Parents

I am going to give myself only thirty minutes to write this. Already I have many voices shouting, talking calmly, being indignant, being well being what (we /they) generally all are a little individually  disjointed. I have learnt that they all represent a 'real' side. They all have a good piont to make. They/we all matter. In this Blogg  I am going to try and rally the facts and not get entrenched in emotion so as to take the wind out of most of the conversational sails. Using the facts you can make your own conclusions.

 I have mentioned  in earlier bloggs my parents had in the early days a very strong 'brethren type ' faith. This life was a life of rules personal sacrifice and very strict black and white thinking. Men the absolute unquestionable leaders, most of the women were the cake making, sewing ladies group, dinner on the table types.

Children were there as gifts to be moulded and protected from the "dangerous world" of sin and unholiness. Children were to be kept in strict discipline so as to remain as pure as possible and make less mistakes than thier peers or predecessors thus  keeping  family purity.

(Eek, The thirty minutes is almost gone). 

Im not going to reflect on all the things relating to me and my sisters. I just want to point out rightly or wrongly the pressure my parents were under. This impossible pressure to carry the fate of the world literally on thier shoulders, whilst relinquishing  all personal self rights or care. Their battle to bring light to all things dark and sinful certainly had some interesting results.

Over the years my dad has had numerous tropical diseases including, malaria and typhoid. He has had two mental breakdowns and been sucidal. He has suffered with ME, cronic fatigue, anger, headaches and isolation.  I  think most the major joints in his body have at one piont or another been inflamed broken iced or injected with painkillers.

My mum has two faces her 'public face' and her 'real face' my sisters and I are privileged to know her 'Real face'. We are some of her best friends. She has suffered with major bouts of 'not being seen/depression' and has constantly struggled with digestive and breathing  issues.

I look at all five of us and we each have a deep thick story. Somehow we all ended up managing our stories through the soup of black and white religion. We all have chapters and paragraphs that should have never happened or at least interpreted better. 

As a family we all find ourselves alive and still here in 2015. Each year as the black and white layers are revealed and shed, we are getting to know each other as honest people with all our flaws. I count myself blessed to be able to have not just second chances but first chances.