I can remember moving to the Jackson, MS, area as I dated and then less than a year later, married, Curtis. The trees are so gorgeous, so tall. And I marveled.
I also began to suffer with the chains of Christianity, and I was horrified as I found a job with State Farm Insurance. Men who were adjustors were very racist, more so than sexist…..and when I realized this thing, my eyes began to be open to two things: how controlled many of us, mostly women, are within the Christian World and how backward most history had been taught. I was not educated in the proper paradigm. It was definitely male chauvinistic and decidedly racist.
Back then, around 1989-1990, I even asserted I didn’t know what to call myself, but I wasn’t going to be a Christian anymore yet I didn’t know how to be anyone else but a Christian woman, highly trained to stay home, have kids, and support the system from the home all the way through the church/school structure. So I did that, faithfully, for years. I told Curtis and others in our small church at the time how I experienced culture shock as a Texas Kid when I made that move.
The next time, it was reverse culture shock. We moved back to Texas, we built a house I didn’t want but didn’t say much because we weren’t going to have a house payment which was a bit heavenly on a single income, and realized through house church experiences how couples married who were mixed race, experienced deep racism. This stuff is so hidden in plain sight.
Things like racism and sexism are always looked at as problems of the past in Christian settings. I just realized this thing. How funny. I know the King from a distance, and Christians are nothing like the true Him. But is He God?
I have a suspicion he would say no. And that makes me smile today because I keep telling people in my family He is human. He is not ethereal, not nearly as much as people around me would like Him to be, and that is where my crying inside stays. I want to show people around me that there had been a person and her name was Cara Ann Beaty.
She was meant to be me, telling the world, I don’t think the King wants to be called God. I don’t think He is watching US the way we have thought he would. I don’t think he forgives what many people think He forgives. I just remember being at the YMCA at my trial by fire, with tears dropping, because He kept forgiving my family their treatment of me, and I am grateful. How did I know that? Don’t ask me; I never knew me.
Now, I just realized and for the last 20 years, I am in the Culture Shock of Information Technologies. So I’m by and large leaving the world system now though I am maintaining a few social media outlets carefully. Why? It was something my daughter said. “I feel safe….here”
I’ve never felt safe. You don’t feel safe when your brother drops dead twice, your dad almost had to declare bankruptcy, and you just knew to be as perfect a kid as you could be to stay out of trouble, and hell. You raise kids that way too.
I’ve never felt safe to be me. Yet, since my tenth child was born, I have gone through a lot of embarrassing things and can say NOW, some years later, I begin again and am choosing to direct my life into a place where I feel safe.
I can tell story after story of trying to find myself in this world, and how I”ve failed.
I hope my true love life finds me someday now, for I found myself finally and I am choosing to stop mourning the rejection of me by so many things, ways, people, and places.
I am grateful. This isn’t my whole story. It is a lot of it, though. I found myself telling my ninth child today as we enjoyed an outing together how I am sorry it is hard being a sibling in a large family. I don’t know if it was this hard without the Social Media/Gaming lifestyles my kids grapple with. I remember after the internet came forth, I had friends finally who were like me and that was a message board. I overused it and people still think I’m mentally unsound. So I look forward to not being what I was, which I don’t even know what it was that I was and I now…do not care. That’s good.
Being an empath means one must choose which exactly things and people and etc one will care about. I didn’t have choices before this year. I’m not going to explain that item because my whole life explains it.
I have the ability to look back and only remember the love. I am grateful for my empathetic nature today, if nothing else. I simply choose to forget…………
The greatest sin of the republican party is the sin of stubborn control. They are now at this time, one hundred percent of the time, saying the way of the past is better than the future without some things.
And the problem with that narrative is they are trying to keep the King of kings in the grave of history–no matter the consequences to other countries and millions of people living in America today.
If you are a die-hard republican or someone who looks at this issue or that issue (single issue platforms) alone–then let me say this thing simply to you: you are raising whole generations in an old way of thinking, and you evidently (IOW I PERSONALLY HOLD THESE TRUTHS EVIDENT) ….. you evidently don’t see, don’t care, and don’t even need to live in reality to the fact that racism, sexism, and social media prowess are your GOD.
You love CULT and if you were in Ukraine, it would now be a part of Russia. You’ve never had to fight. Neither I, and I do not know what I would do if that sort of struggle came to this part of the Planet Earth.
Well, all of those weavings of pontification aside, I love a cult. And His Name is Jesus Christ over 2000 years ago. He wasn’t white, he had to deal with his life’s style in that modern day, and here in 2022 He appears in many different skin colors. Miraculously.
All that being said, honestly by Cara Coffey, the truth is I may not like the words civil and war being slammed together, Abraham Lincoln was indeed assassinated, and this morning the reason has broadened for me why I do not like the words civil and war to go together in any history book.
The only ones who think it’s civil war are white supremacist monsters with the money, and the people like Herschel Walker and Kanye West, Matt Gaetz (staying there because he has committed sex crimes, of course)– chained to that existence, still. AND not only that, of course. Hello hell on earth.
In the Christian World and others like it, I as a grown woman can have no male friends particularly if one or the other, or both, are married. I suppose if I went to a church which embraced homosexuality, it would be a little mixed. But all that I lived through, it was very strict, heterosexual, Republican and pro-life.
In any case, I have no friends at all, and this I imagine is common for dependents like me.
Most people I know, they will not tell you if they are politically aligned as I am, and some of them (have had this happen many times so don’t argue with me) will fight you to your face but be exactly what you are from a distance.
Some people align politically for their job.
Just know, we are forced into silence if we are the stay-at-home mother from the Generation X, perhaps younger. We are full of wisdom, gentle humor, intelligence, and life-long love service. Except there is so much fighting in my background, and picking one another apart, I am simply glad my time is over in a large family. I am tired of being attacked.
Or, I am tired of having to remind someone that I’d rather not talk about this particular grievance they have in the family because it just makes me keep blaming myself. I’m sorry. Not sorry. I need a space of either you clearly nurture me, or I say no. No, I don’t want to see you. No, I do not care anymore. No, you do not love me and at least I can thank one child who flat out told me that when she walked out. Then she and her sisters bullied me as I tried to get my family to put their differences down to be together again after many years of hard things happening, and my asking for help and getting it at a cost: my demoralization is complete.
I have thoroughly clarified and edited my social media, and that medium is truly my only other existence. We are women, we are dependents, we are forgotten. We are not heard or seen still.
I kept telling someone in my life, and a few others, that I was becoming my Uncle Paul. I literally have no family left who would be with me if it wasn’t expected of them except a few children who hung in there and are trying for me. It is what it is….is what I’m told.
How fucked up that is, ya’ll.
Being shunned, mentally abused, and looked at as a person who has a totally tragic life is not easy, but it is my reality.
This poem is disturbing, actually. I have noticed in male poets the tendency to be cyclically morose. TS Eliot does not write most of his poetry that way; however, this piece is one such.
And it is why in my own hand I wrote, I remember. I am choosing not to be a person who does not appreciate the value of good people, no matter how much they struggle with identity.
We are living in very morose times. We are the solution: Give thanks, love ourselves, love others, work hard, enjoy our lives.
I wish you well on your particular journey, and may you know, oh good person, how your very life is what is part of the Fabric of Universe which is goodness, greatness, within love never failing.