This is a lengthy post, with lots of turns and twists.
But it all dovetails.
This post may offend some people.
I am not responsible for thier emotions.
I am responsible for ME.
If my Blog posts can benefit others, fine; but I do not post specifically for that reason ... I post FOR ME.
I, too, am still a 'work in progress' - this Blog, and my posts are my way of healing: my way is not everybody else's way. And that is okay 😉
Yesterday I read
an article that was intended to touch on the nakedness of a widow’s new
reality.
MPO is that it was lacking in substance.
I found it
shallowly pretentious, and actually quite insulting.
It was, of
course, written from a man’s point of view; men do not understand women … a man
is not a woman. We are hardwired differently.
The deep-level-comprehension simply is not there.
Honest to God, I do not understand people, at all.
ALL of the previous 20th century, was about the advancement of women’s rights … t.h.e.e.n.t.i.r.e.c.e.n.t.u.r.y.: were the ‘feminists raising their voices’ now, living under rocks then?
The premise of the article highlighted above, seems to hinge on the opinion of the author, that women – specifically widowed women – are clueless about their power; and lot in life.
The women reading that twaddle are my age … or slightly younger in their mid-50’s.
WHERE HAVE THEY BEEN THE PAST 60-70 YEARS????
I was born in 1956. I was raised during the 1960’s counter culture upheaval. I came of age in the 1970’s freefall – where traditional marriage was shattered, abortion became the standard for birth control in drug/sex-crazed America – and people generally lost all common sense.
In 1974, I married
young: I was 17 … Bob was 24. Bob had been married before, at 19; he was going
through a messy divorce when we met. I never regretted marrying young – in
reality, I was never a teenager. I was 17 going on 25. I was ready to match
with Bob, and we enjoyed 44 wonderful years of married happiness. Were all
those days happy ones? Of course not … but they were always joyful ones because
we chose happy: we chose US 😊
Neither Bob,
nor I, were virgins when we met, fell in love, and married. Bob had been
married – and had lovers before we met. Bob was my only husband … but he was not
my only lover. He was, however, my last lover: the best, and the most worthy of
remembrance – I loved him. I am not a prude; it's just that Bob was my passion. Bob is still my passion.
Though I had had lovers before Bob, I cannot imagine a lover now, following
Bob.
That part
of my life will always belong to Bob. And I’m okay with that.
Some widows are not; and I am not God. It’s none of my business – even if they make it my business by sharing their private business with me.
But because they are widows, like me, I know they have been married; and it escapes my thought process as to how clueless some can be about relationship, love, sex, and happiness.
Some widows have been naked – but do not understand nakedness (not judging, just making an observation).
There was
no soul nakedness threaded through the artilce – it was just plain nakedness.
MPO is that it really did not touch on what a widow is really seeking in all that dating information.
If they just want a booty call 'date', I suppose it filled the bill; but if they are wanting something deeoer, it was woefully lacking.
There was no depth to the article.
That could
be widow’s fog incomprehension – that brain shroud can make anything, and
everything, seem hypnotically engaging if deep thinking isn't involved. On the other hand, when people lose their sense of
direction, they hone in on any voice that promises to lead them out of the fog.
But it
could also be that society has become so tweaked, that thinking at all becomes
complex and confusing in general. People are so busy panting after the next
naked encounter, that they have forgotten the importance of being naked with
each other.
I shook my head in the 1980’s when my daughter idolized singers and actors that emulated 1950’s idols and actors (traditional values as opposed to the ‘modern’ outlook on life) WHILE screaming for ‘women’s rights!’ – rights that had already been fought for … and won; all to the detriment of society as a whole (MPO). But her teachers were telling her that women had no rights; and her parents were “too old-fashioned to understand”. Imagine that: too old-fashioned! Bob and I were anything but old-fashioned; but, we were married … and that, according to her ‘educated’ teachers, labeled us a clueless/out-of-touch and out-of-step. We shrugged and laughed at the arrogant stupidity of the clueless 20-something teachers; and hoped out children would mature with the passage of time, like Bob and I did: they didn’t.
Throughout all of the 1990’s, we watched our children struggle through a topsy-turvy life, where confused men sulked and angry women demanded to “live like men do!” – generally women with a sad and unjustifiable view of the male sex: began to bully their way through life; looked down on those they deemed unworthy as they clawed their way up the social ladder of pandering acceptance; pushed down compassionate empathy to be “like men”; indulged in bold open affairs with whoever-whenever – the younger, the better (school rapes between female ‘teachers’ and underage male children were glorified) and older women proudly wore the title ‘Cougar’ as they paraded their boy-toys.
Women were ‘empowered’ to act like fools, and men were emotionally and spiritually castrated to the point of being worthless for anything except a sexual escapade: they were throwaways with no rights when it came to the murder/or the adoption of their children, who were the unwanted result of free-for-all-romps.
The ‘liberated’ women were acting like men alright … the culls of the male spectrum; those who exhibited the base animal instinct of animals.
What
woman, in her right mind, would want to sink so low; and behave so low?
A truly
liberated woman knows her value, is beautiful and desirable in her own worth …
and behaves like a Queen – solo lobo, or coupled: a truly liberated woman never
forgets she is priceless.
Bob knew my value: he always told me I was his “beautiful Lady”; he desired me because I was desirable (even in the free-love 1970's, I was not a cut-rate slut giving my favors out to everyone and anyone, just because I could) … and he always treated me as his equal because I wouldn’t accept less: from anyone. I was my King Bee’s Queen – and that’s how he talked about me/treated me.
We had each other’s hearts.
We had each other’s backs.
We had a good thing 😊
I always
laughed when Bob called me his Lady; but now, I glory in the fact that he
saw a Lady in me … and that I was, indeed, “his Lady”; despite my
tomboy appearance and behavior, I always valued myself – my own unique individuality
that would not allow anyone to use, abuse, or take advantage of me.
Bob was
privy to my secrets; and he saw/encouraged my inner-strength.
Bob experienced
my budding softness – he birthed it in me.
I
respected ME: and I expected everyone else to respect me too. I didn’t
waste time or energy on those who wouldn’t see my worth.
There was always more between Bob and I than just sex. It may have started out that way for the first few weeks (I was so happy to finally meet my Mr. Fantasy that I wasn’t going to waste any time enjoying him – and letting him enjoy me!); but as our love took root, sex quickly became lovemaking – deep and true/pouring ourselves into each other and drawing the best out for each other; we shared our secrets/fears/hopes/dreams. We inspired each other to hope: and dared to dream. WE were more than tangled sheets, bodies, and hair – I and me became WE … and We were tangled, committed hearts: there was no other way for us.
I was tough, but Bob brought out the softness in me 😉
I am a strong equal, but I see no need to castrate a man to see
myself as ‘an equal’.
Aggressively
angry woman are never beautiful, or desirable to anyone: not even herself, and
that is why so many women today are dissatisfied.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ9mz2MlwU4)
They know
how to get naked… but they don’t know how to be naked.
They’ve lost their inner self.
Our children, though shunning us, and our way of life, did decide to keep their children (thank God!), and we welcomed 3 granddaughters (spaced throughout the ‘90’s) into this madhouse life that had become the standard “modern life” on Earth, the 3rd planet from the sun. I worried how they might grow up healthy, and happy … in such a twisted worldview.
With the dawning of 2000, the term ‘hippie’ came into societal play again … but there was nothing about the term that was recognizable to either Bob or myself – the term had been hijacked by the demonrats to push a political agenda, and rush a nobody from nowhere into the White house; solely on skin color and religious background: an outright coup downplayed by applauding a political party that advocated for ‘women’s rights!’ that include free drug use, free sex, free abortion, free gender reassignment – and very few even batted an eye at the obvious political tyranny that played out for 8 long and tortuous years: no one wanted to be labeled a racist by racists in governing seats – and most especially in the highest seat of our Nation.
Whereas
the term ‘hippie’, had originally meant ‘against the establishment’ … the new emphasis
on hippie, was to embrace the establishment because the demonrat establishment
will give you free drugs, free medical, free housing, free food, free abortion,
free schooling, free gender reassignment – ect. It is a trap, but drug-addled,
sex-crazed people are easily led to entrapment. Especially if the trap is what
they fantasize about.
We
welcomed a grandson in 2014 … and I really worried about his future as a
male. My worry is justifiable: besides being viewed as a sexual plaything, a
male has no value in today’s society; there is no place for a male – and now,
males are being ‘reassigned’ new ‘gender roles’. Manhood is being eradicated,
as angry females denouncing President Trump for his “lockeroom talk”
– that makes him “a despicable pig!” … gnash their teeth, and gleefully shout, “grab
him by the balls and squeeze till he screams! Use your power to make him kneel
and beg for mercy!” about any and all men: they’ve been doing
this for decades, and it’s insanely sad, and pathetic.
THIS PURE/VIOLENT HATRED is not ‘feminism’ – it is demeaning to womanhood.
So, here we are again, in 2020 … reliving the mid-2000’s … with the same ugly political faces/ugly political attitudes/ugly political agenda/ugly political results – shouting the same political rhetoric, to suck in the unwary, the lost, and the gullible. But there is a new sick twist to the twisted freakshow the obama era birthed: sexual gender has been erased. For all the spiel about ‘needing a woman President’ … and pushing a parody of a woman forward in man-necked kamala harris (who apparently doesn’t even know how to pronounced her own name), HOW can we be sure there will ever be an ACTUAL FEMALE President, if that ever happens?
The demonrat
party has become a gender freakshow parody. It’s really sad that people, in
America think this fantastical insanity is ‘normal’ and acceptable as sane or
rational behavior.
What has been taking place across America for 60-70 years is not women empowering themselves!
Back to the article …
ORIGINAL
POST: {“Excellent read: Love
After Death: The Widow’s Romantic Predicaments
So few people really understand the widow's
desire for a second love, or worse yet, don't care to understand.”}
ME: I think people do understand the life of a widow … we no longer live in the Victorian era; but most people realize love, romance, and sex are private matters. They have to be dealt with privately.
Page by page, as our new life unfolds.
Widows are not cookie-cutter figures; each widow is different, unique in her sorrow – in her life story unfolding: no 1 assessment will fit the assortment. There is no quick, or easy “fix”.
I think
most widows, themselves, are the confused ones as they try to come to terms
with their new station in life – and that’s okay: it’s an adjustment.
I was
only 6 weeks into my solo lobo life, when me sister asked me if I was thinking
about dating: it angered me. The insensitivity still angers me.
It was at Bob’s Celebration of Life Event, August 30th, 2019, that one of his Aunts came up to me and said I should start thinking about dating again. I was speechless – I had just placed Bob’s Cremains Box! I know she meant well, but it was offensive.
Friends, too, jumped on the Dating Bandwagon.
Widow Groups started setting up Dating Rooms.
I don’t know
why everyone seems to believe it is their mission in life to push widows into
the dating game.
IF … and that is a very “iffy” I.F. … ((((I)))) decide to wet my toes in the shallow end of a testosterone pool – that is MY business; not anyone else’s business to meddle in.
I am not in High School: I don’t feel the need to parade around with a male trailing me – or share giggly whispers with curious females around the water fountain.
Bob
always was … and always will BE my passion; no one else can change that. I don’t
feel guilty for loving my husband. And I don’t allow others to guilt me into
dating; so they feel comfortable around me.
My life is MINE.
I CHOSE how I want to live it.
I shared my life with Bob for 44 years; I have continued to share my life with Bob for the past 23 months he’s been absent from my life.
I am not interested in dating: not even the tiniest bit interested.
But, if Elohim has other plans for my life … He will clue me in, and I will discuss that new spur off the main road of my life, with Him – and with my husband.
Without guilt.
Without pressure from strangers.
Without anyone else’s opinions.
And with all his original male {junk} intact: not surgically ‘gender’ manipulated. If Elohim has a man waiting in the wings for me, he will be a man from start to finish … not a freaky sideshow manifestation.
Walking on the wild side of life doesn’t interest me.
Two Novembers ago, in a different lifetime, Bob told me to live.
How I choose to live, is my business; the world does not get to guilt me into doing what they think I should do (according to their time schedule), to feel complete.
I AM ‘complete’ at this phase of my unfolding
life.
I am enough.
{{The LORD your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love; He will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17)}}
I AM SO GLAD!
Thank
You Yeshua, El Gibbor (Mighty One).
