11/18/2013 by syrbal-labrys
I know, I know…this should fall under softer-side and go on the other blog because it deals with my “spiritual” life, right? Well, yes and no. Because it is very not soft things at all I am dealing with as my “ritual” year ended this weekend. Like everyone else who ends a year in a slush of alcohol and wet firewood, (what, you mean you don’t??) but in January; it is a time of examining priorities and letting go of things and picking up others. But I’ve still got some baggage (*the fuckers of the title) I’ve been doing my damnedest to drop since May 1st, 2003. And I am still failing. This shit is manacled onto my wrists and ankles like Secret Squirrel attache cases.
Why May 1, 2003, you ask? Well, because that day just crystalized the full view for my analytical little mind about the shit coming down the pipe at something like warp speed. And it still drives me completely batshit crazy that nobody really wants to discuss this. Nobody wants to talk about what TRILLIONS spent on two unnecessary wars did to the economy. Nobody wants to talk about how the wars became a cash cow for all sorts of disreputable sorts, either. See, basically, to me it seems like the US government is operating a real high-cost finishing school for would-be mercenaries that then can seek high-paying employment as private armies doing the work of corporations. Because you know, you can barely support a family and the American (day)dream on military enlisted pay. When my son was medically discharged, he was immediately offered employment by one of these private “contractor” sorts —they didnt’ care if his knees were shot and he couldn’t pass a PT test, one assumes he could do most of his work from the window of a black SUV? My son was fair desperate for money to pay child support and his own rent and groceries, but he spit on the ground and announced he would rather starve.
And oddly enough? That is precisely what about half the people in the government think ‘old soldiers’ should do — conveniently fuck the fuck off and die already. Because the Tea Party and the GOP would prefer all heroes of the dead no-more-bills variety. Damned inconvenient when they come home alive and fucked up and, gee, they want the “care” their recruiters were told to promise to them. So yes, they keep voting against the things to keep old and current soldiers and their families alive and well.
Even worse, for those WOMEN veterans and active duty sorts, who have the most apparently bizarre expectation of being treated like human beings? You know, differentiated from party favors and public urinals? I mean, gee, as a veteran, I recall being informed I had joined “the Whore Corps” by my own father! Course, way back then, doubtless the Army guys I served with would have taken a proprietary attitude about us being disposable party toys for some of the fucking contractor sorts, as apparently happened to Lavena Johnson. Her case is one of unfortunate many where American female military members had more to fear from their own countrymen than from the enemy. So yes, I am still carrying a huge load of rage and cannot put it down.
Another year gone, another year older, but the burdens of war get no lighter. Good thing I have a spiritual side to deal with all this rage, right? Pssst — just a clue, MY spiritual leanings don’t promise me pie in the sky for being a good complacent, compliant woman. Nor do my spiritual leanings tell me to be non-violent or forgiving. My spiritual leanings tell me to fight the good fight with all that I’ve got, to hate hypocrisy, racism, misogyny, and rich fucks who use people as means to their own ends. My spiritual leanings tell me this world is mine and to battle on to make it worth living in for everyone, forever. No excuses and bullshit about a “better world” for those who have died in pain, suffering, despair and fury. So yes, I will keep carrying what I cannot let go. Until I find an appropriate asshat to drop it upon, hopefully in the shape of a cartoon-grand piano! And I spent some considerable time ending my old year in updating the causes of death in the books I’ve been keeping since the wars began. Now if only the hangover would go away, and I don’t mean from booze.
(Thanks to Yellowdog Grannie for most of the graphics!)