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Parental warning: Please read.

Question:

Carey I am sorry that you had to endure that pain in your childhood. I don’t know you well , but have seen enough to know that your existence is a treasure  to those that you share with. all my relations Frieda – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Whats important to me is that you survived and that you are my friend. I love you lots and after all you lived through, you came out of it as a person I admire and look to for advice and comfort. Hugs. Crisis By my tenth birthday,  I was the child that most your parents wouldn’t let you play with… It wasn’t just the crossed eyes.  Eyes that could have been corrected at no cost,  as we were military  but rather eyes that just couldn’t be bothered with. It wasn’t just the lisp.  A thing most easily corrected,  just a small snip of too tight skin.  It, too, could not be bothered with. Nor, was it the right foot turning in and under.  Still does, at times, today.  An elastic brace early on.  Obviously way too much of a bother. It might have been the bruises and  the unexplained scars and bandages,  and the embarrassment of it all. And it is true that even then I was slightly twisted. So in isolation I caved in on myself, relying on the myths of saints and angels:  a God who gave a damn  and promises arising from fairy tales. Becoming ever more twisted. So it was that in the fifth grade,  the source of gossip among girls  and the occasional target of boys    learning the ways of enforcing social norms,  that I found myself alone on the playground  in some unprotected corner or another  locked away in fantasy and dreams… And some darling child of loving parents came and had the usual words, and was met with practiced indifference and so he struck out at me. I uncoiled and unleashed in unexpected fury playing by no rules that either of use knew: fists, feet, teeth and numbness. He was no match for one hardened by batterings at home, for the wounded animal cornered. Too, he was baffled by the lack of words and the sound of pure rage. He was panicked by the lack of rules. And when they got to us and pulled me off of him  he was bloody and bruised  and greatly confused… Me?  I was numb and sunk quickly  back into the blackhole from which  I had been launched. So it came that I was told that I was dangerous,  that I must not come back to school for a week…  and awoke the next morning with new homegrown scabs  and bruises of my own,  locked from the house and left to the streets. And it came to be that I found my way to a phone,  not having any one to call to my rescue,  I called that school and told them it was going to blow up… Never did I return to that school…. And parents, most of yours and certainly mine, felt justified… I was the child that most of your parents wouldn’t let you play with. Indeed, I was the child that most of you warn your children about… …still casting bottles into the sea Carey — For more information about this posting service, contact: services If you wish to get an anonymous email/posting account, visit our sign-up page: http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html

Response:

Thanks, Carey, for sharing your soul in such a heartfelt way. I am sorry for you, and any child (us) who has to give up belief in all things good, especially family, …during childhood. Don’t know if it works this way, but apparently you’ve been kept afloat by those bottles you’ve been casting into the sea… Peace, tranquil peace, to you, ripguy

Response:

Whats important to me is that you survived and that you are my friend. I love you lots and after all you lived through, you came out of it as a person I admire and look to for advice and comfort. Hugs. Crisis – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – By my tenth birthday,  I was the child that most your parents wouldn’t let you play with… It wasn’t just the crossed eyes.  Eyes that could have been corrected at no cost,  as we were military  but rather eyes that just couldn’t be bothered with. It wasn’t just the lisp.  A thing most easily corrected,  just a small snip of too tight skin.  It, too, could not be bothered with. Nor, was it the right foot turning in and under.  Still does, at times, today.  An elastic brace early on.  Obviously way too much of a bother. It might have been the bruises and  the unexplained scars and bandages,  and the embarrassment of it all. And it is true that even then I was slightly twisted. So in isolation I caved in on myself, relying on the myths of saints and angels:  a God who gave a damn  and promises arising from fairy tales. Becoming ever more twisted. So it was that in the fifth grade,  the source of gossip among girls  and the occasional target of boys    learning the ways of enforcing social norms,  that I found myself alone on the playground  in some unprotected corner or another  locked away in fantasy and dreams… And some darling child of loving parents came and had the usual words, and was met with practiced indifference and so he struck out at me. I uncoiled and unleashed in unexpected fury playing by no rules that either of use knew: fists, feet, teeth and numbness. He was no match for one hardened by batterings at home, for the wounded animal cornered. Too, he was baffled by the lack of words and the sound of pure rage. He was panicked by the lack of rules. And when they got to us and pulled me off of him  he was bloody and bruised  and greatly confused…   Me?  I was numb and sunk quickly  back into the blackhole from which  I had been launched. So it came that I was told that I was dangerous,  that I must not come back to school for a week…  and awoke the next morning with new homegrown scabs  and bruises of my own,  locked from the house and left to the streets. And it came to be that I found my way to a phone,  not having any one to call to my rescue,  I called that school and told them it was going to blow up… Never did I return to that school…. And parents, most of yours and certainly mine, felt justified… I was the child that most of your parents wouldn’t let you play with. Indeed, I was the child that most of you warn your children about… …still casting bottles into the sea Carey — For more information about this posting service, contact: services If you wish to get an anonymous email/posting account, visit our sign-up page: http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html

Response:

Well said Noel, as a matter a fact,  consider it said again…. with luv for Carey, celeste – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – x-no-archive: yes Hi Carey By my tenth birthday,  I was the child that most your parents wouldn’t let you play with… It wasn’t just the crossed eyes.  Eyes that could have been corrected at no cost,  as we were military  but rather eyes that just couldn’t be bothered with. It wasn’t just the lisp.  A thing most easily corrected,  just a small snip of too tight skin.  It, too, could not be bothered with. Nor, was it the right foot turning in and under.  Still does, at times, today.  An elastic brace early on.  Obviously way too much of a bother. It might have been the bruises and  the unexplained scars and bandages,  and the embarrassment of it all. And it is true that even then I was slightly twisted. So in isolation I caved in on myself, relying on the myths of saints and angels:  a God who gave a damn  and promises arising from fairy tales. Becoming ever more twisted. So it was that in the fifth grade,  the source of gossip among girls  and the occasional target of boys    learning the ways of enforcing social norms,  that I found myself alone on the playground  in some unprotected corner or another  locked away in fantasy and dreams… And some darling child of loving parents came and had the usual words, and was met with practiced indifference and so he struck out at me. I uncoiled and unleashed in unexpected fury playing by no rules that either of use knew: fists, feet, teeth and numbness. He was no match for one hardened by batterings at home, for the wounded animal cornered. Too, he was baffled by the lack of words and the sound of pure rage. He was panicked by the lack of rules. And when they got to us and pulled me off of him  he was bloody and bruised  and greatly confused… Me?  I was numb and sunk quickly  back into the blackhole from which  I had been launched. So it came that I was told that I was dangerous,  that I must not come back to school for a week…  and awoke the next morning with new homegrown scabs  and bruises of my own,  locked from the house and left to the streets. And it came to be that I found my way to a phone,  not having any one to call to my rescue,  I called that school and told them it was going to blow up… Never did I return to that school…. And parents, most of yours and certainly mine, felt justified… I was the child that most of your parents wouldn’t let you play with. Indeed, I was the child that most of you warn your children about… …still casting bottles into the sea Carey     I am so sorry Carey :-(  The pain that you endured was unbearable.  Not just the bruises but so much more the neglect, the lack of love.  I wonder why people don’t see the children acting out the pain of their environment and seek to help rather than hinder.  To ask why is this happening and to seek out the answers to the lonely and pained children?     I think perhaps in this generation there is more understanding – albeit not as much as our universe needs.  It goes far to explain why you have such a commitment to children who are now hurting.  Sometimes I wonder if the pain we went though in our generation – which I see as the generation who said in great numbers "No more to Secrecy", who for some reason in this space in time gathered enough strength and caring to stand up to society and cyclically damaged generations, aren’t possessed with a God-given strength born of their perceived weaknesses.  I am awed that you and so many of us have taken a path of a special type of caring for those who walk the path behind us, it is doubtful that the caring that we possess came from our environment so it begs to be asked where did it come from.  I suppose each person must find the answer to that question for themselves and from within them. We all could easily have walked the path of the painfully hurt striking out in society.  A reminder that there except for the grace of god/goddess go I.  I hope that you are not ashamed of your past Carey, how you acted to release your pain – a pain that was unbearable.  No one deserves that type of pain and yet you have turned that pain into the wonderful caring person you are today.  Not only do you speak your loving words but you act on them.  Hummmm – as a child you acted out what you felt strongly about and as an adult to still do :-)  Perhaps that was your strength all along :-) , more of a precious gift than a burden for shame.     ((((((((HUGS)))))))) to my most wonderful man who does so much to shine as an example of transcendence.     – Panther — For more information about this posting service, contact: services If you wish to get an anonymous email/posting account, visit our sign-up page: http://asarian-host.org/emailform.html x-no-archive: yes Hi Carey By my tenth birthday,  I was the child that most your parents wouldn’t let you play with… It wasn’t just the crossed eyes.  Eyes that could have been corrected at no cost,  as we were military  but rather eyes that just couldn’t be bothered with. It wasn’t just the lisp.  A thing most easily corrected,  just a small snip of too tight skin.  It, too, could not be bothered with. Nor, was it the right foot turning in and under.  Still does, at times, today.  An elastic brace early on.  Obviously way too much of a bother. It might have been the bruises and  the unexplained scars and bandages,  and the embarrassment of it all. And it is true that even then I was slightly twisted. So in isolation I caved in on myself, relying on the myths of saints and angels:  a God who gave a damn  and promises arising from fairy tales. Becoming ever more twisted. So it was that in the fifth grade,  the source of gossip among girls  and the occasional target of boys    learning the ways of enforcing social norms,  that I found myself alone on the playground  in some unprotected corner or another  locked away in fantasy and dreams… And some darling child of loving parents came and had the usual words, and was met with practiced indifference and so he struck out at me. I uncoiled and unleashed in unexpected fury playing by no rules that either of use knew: fists, feet, teeth and numbness. He was no match for one hardened by batterings at home, for the wounded animal cornered. Too, he was baffled by the lack of words and the sound of pure rage. He was panicked by the lack of rules. And when they got to us and pulled me off of him  he was bloody and bruised  and greatly confused… Me?  I was numb and sunk quickly  back into the blackhole from which  I had been launched. So it came that I was told that I was dangerous,  that I must not come back to school for a week…  and awoke the next morning with new homegrown scabs  and bruises of my own,  locked from the house and left to the streets. And it came to be that I found my way to a phone,  not having any one to call to my rescue,  I called that school and told them it was going to blow up… Never did I return to that school…. And parents, most of yours and certainly mine, felt justified… I was the child that most of your parents wouldn’t let you play with. Indeed, I was the child that most of you warn your children about… …still casting bottles into the sea Carey     I am so sorry Carey :-(  The pain that you endured was unbearable.  Not just the bruises but so much more the neglect, the lack of love.  I wonder why people don’t see the children acting out the pain of their environment and seek to help rather than hinder.  To ask why is this happening and to seek out the answers to the lonely and pained children?     I think perhaps in this generation there is more understanding – albeit not as much as our universe needs.  It goes far to explain why you have such a commitment to children who are now hurting.  Sometimes I wonder if the pain we went though in our generation – which I see as the generation who said in great numbers "No more to Secrecy", who for some reason in this space in time gathered

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Response:

carey we were the kid noone was allowed to talk to. so noone told me i wasn’t allowed to talk to you. so i will coz i want to. so there. leaflet — I don’t have an attitude problem, *you* have a perception problem.

Response:

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