That's an interesting piece of information. I have spent years being told I should get to a place of acceptance, with a place of acceptance being seeing that it was all for the better and being happy about it.
Well, some of the s**t that has happened, I am NEVER going to be happy about. I am NEVER going to be happy about all the abuse that has occurred-- the best I can do it to tell myself that, as a ret*d person, I probably brought it on myself and should be grateful for the lesson and glad it was no worse. I am NEVER going to be happy about the way things went with my dad-- there is NO UNIVERSE in which that was all for the best, and trying to convince myself that it was makes me want to die. I am NEVER going to be happy about the way things went with my stepmom-- and the only universe in which it was all for the best is the one in which I am such a selfish, lazy b***h that I'm glad not to have to spend time, effort, and resources on her (not a universe I wish to inhabit, thanks-- besides which fact it would be worth the time, effort, and resources just to see the look on her face if I were to bring the baby to her and say, "I TOLD you that if I had another damn kid I was going to assume you witched it to happen and name the little bastard after you!! !").
I am sick to the death of being pressured to be happy about all the s**t that life throws at me.
I wish, profoundly, that I could have permission for it to hurt, to be hurt, and to show the fact that I am hurt. For, basically, however long it takes. Not permission to stop functioning, of course-- but it would be nice for it to be OK for me to sigh while I wash the dishes and cry over the stove.
I wish, profoundly, that I could try to right a wrong-- whether mine or someone else's-- without being told that I'm still in denial or "being autistic again."
I think that, frankly, just accepting everything that comes your way is called APATHY. I think it's called LETTING PEOPLE WALK ALL OVER YOU. I think maybe that's why the crap about "acceptance" being applied to everything is now immovable cannon. Because people WANT you to let everyone walk all over you.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"