Get Behind Me, Satan (Streams of Consciousness)
I have been listening to Nina Simone's Fodder on My Wings Wings a lot lately and, I must confess, quite often I've looked to Miss Nina Simone for guidance in my life. Mostly, when bitterness creeps in and starts to fester inside my soul, I listen to her. I know she has felt this way too, only much more deeply and for many more important reasons than any I might have to chew on tonight. Whatever she was going through, her music still held its own power, its own beauty. It gives me strength.
I am embroiled in a complete mess with men from Switzerland whom I do not know, personally. They have gnawed their way into my world, underhandedly and in secret, like moths devouring old linens, only to blast details of my life to the world at large, to audiences of people who know nothing about me. It is not okay. They have destroyed my sense of safety, my peace of mind, my ability to trust, and quite often, my joy.
I can forfeit a lot of things, but when someone starts to steal my joy? Then, I take it personally.
From the very beginning, there seems to have been an implied sense of ownership of me and therefore, the right to dictate to me what they think I need to do to appease their demands. I've always found this to be a peculiar thing. It's audacious, to say the least. It's out of sync with my everyday life. I don't like that too much. And no matter what I say or do, their criticisms are cruel, narrow and assumptive. I do not know why, exactly, they deem it necessary to attack my life from the inside out, but that is what has been happening, in a parasitic kind of way. As if either of them know what it's like to live in rural New Brunswick, Canada, in a single-parent household, knowing what I know, feeling what I feel, and seeing what I can see (clue).
I've thought about it a lot and the only real conclusion I can come to that explains this enormous divide of perception is this: wealth. I don't think these boys have known a day of financial struggle in their lives, not like I do, and they know that I have struggled. How? Do I usually go around discussing my financial burdens to perfect strangers? I do not (clue).
I assume I was supposed to just drop it all (family, home, belongings, etc) and jump on board with them on their private tour (__) when they flashed the notion of money my way. And they suggested I was a gold digger when all else failed (do you see any shovels around here? I don't). I never ever dreamed of that kind of life for myself and I was not exactly thrilled that this is what was expected of me and assumed of me, especially since the persona I've projected onto the world is entirely false, minus my lectures on music, given on my Youtube, at times. I was not thrilled to consider taking off with anyone, though I did get my passport renewed (clue). It seemed like something I would find extremely uncomfortable to do, to be amongst screaming strangers, in fact. But they never asked me outright, just assumed I would be thrilled, I guess? I have always been someone who stays close to home. I love my home, quite a lot, thank you very much. If I leave it, it will be for my own reasons and on my own terms.
And my assumptions have been numerous and erroneous as well. For example, I thought I was being contacted by cocky, egotistical (and testicular) cynics–just some half-assed band from far away AND I assumed I they were struggling, too. Oops. How I offend the opposite gender deeply, not to mention full-blown rockstars, in these ways. I will never be famous.
Nevertheless, I have been tormented endlessly and when I ask them to stop, they do not. When I try to ingratiate myself to them anew, they come back with some degrading remarks like the sort you would say to a dog you want to come to heel. And so on. It's supposed to be love, I guess. It feels nothing like that, not for me.
As I dig through the rubble I have concluded their infection in my life runs deep, with gossip fuelling the growth and spread of this diseased spore. Don't think I haven't tried to communicate and do my best to understand them. I have. But they don't understand me, nor my life. It hurts so badly it makes me feel enraged. I can't stand it. I have to find a way to slough off this stain that has developed on my life. I am being talked about behind my back. The relationships with my closest family members have been compromised, and the ones responsible for hurting me this way feel like it is justified. They try to suggest I was a bad mother, a rotten wife. It tears my heart in half to have to deal with the fallout of the last several years while trying to examine my life and see if there is any truth to their harsh and horrifying accusations. They would not know what kind of wife or mother I was at all had they not been spying on me (us) for a very long time (clue) and if I was a bad mother, it's not because I didn't try to be otherwise. Could anyone hold up under scrutiny like this?
I do not know what they heard in the privacy of my home, but when the chips are down, they use this sort of information to hurt me, to degrade me. Something is very wrong here and I do not know how to fix it. My mother said its time to go to the police, as she knows her private conversations are not-so-private (clue). So many people have been effected by this decision to compromise my privacy. It can not be justified whatsoever. I have tried. The time I have lost with my kids due to this mess makes me feel like my heart is being dragged over a dull and rusty blade, it causes me to doubt every move I ever made. It makes me feel terror of loss, terror of regret. How did I let things spiral so far out of control? Personal intimacy is thrown wide open, in all aspects of my life. Why did my husband abandon me to this? My mind races, wondering how they may have manipulated him, but silence and secrets only make it worse. What can I do to get everyone to start telling the truth? How much more of this can I take? Not much more.
And then, I am gently reminded that this is not a sign of things being out of control, it is a sign of the greatness of my family, so appealing and so unique, we attract attention from far and wide and though I know exactly who we are in the grand scheme of things, getting my family to see my point of view has been impossible. One day, they will catch up to me in that regard and see, maybe, that I sacrificed my entire life to protect them from forces they cannot see. The devil and his little band of brothers crashed into my life, right on cue, and I was warned they would. There have been moments so tangible and intense, I had no choice but to take note. So, the symbolic serpent, Satan himself, you might as well say, arrived, slamming down into the metaphorical woodwork of my home, rendering it unsafe for my family. Forces greater than any online drama could hope to conjure have put the chess pieces in place, like clockwork. I was told these days would come, in dreams, in prophecy. The trees spoke to me about days like these. As do the flowers and the birds and the clouds. The lines on the palm of my hand do too, not to mention the birthmark on my arm. Everything in my life provided a clue to these dark and dreadful days, where something tried so hard to render my mind in two.
Ah, but there is a balm in Gilead. So, get thee behind me, Satan.
I've said it before; I knew these days would come. My mother had a vision too, that my family may be hidden for a while, from me, from my mind, my life and are therefore safe from this vile infection. We must not be surprised with a snake bites. There is no trust nor honour amongst thieves.
So, on nights like this, I go to my beloved Miss Nina. I know she knows exactly what I am going through, somehow. She knows the pain women feel when they are underestimated and overlooked due to one thing or another not measuring up in the eyes of a man. But when she sings, there is no man in sight. Just the voice of a really powerful woman. So I go to this album on nights like this. I hope I am not sexist, but sometimes I prefer the company of a woman.
Strangely enough, there's a song called Le Peuple en Suisse and at the very end, in French, it says sometimes things are not good (loosely translated). It seems like a warning to me. I take it to heart. There's also another song on that album called Stop and it also dovetails nicely with the predicament I am in. Stop, Nina sings. Stop. But my favourite songs on this album are Vous etes seuls, Mais je désire etre avec vous as well as Il y a un à Baume a Gilead, which is a reference to the healing powers of Jesus Christ, which I experienced in a profound way when I was a teenager, incidentally. My album for my own music project (Acchite Bälm) is inspired by this Biblical reference, in fact. So I run to Nina's music when I don't know where else to go. She provides a lead for me to take through this labyrinth of confusion I've been mired in for far too long. It soothes my seething heart and mind. It provides a roadmap for me and my heart. Nina always takes me to a place that feels a lot like home.
… Well I stumbled in the darkness
I'm lost and alone
Though I said I'd go before us
And show the way back home
Is there a light up ahead?
I can't hold on very long
Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home
… Money's just something you throw
Off the back of a train
Got a handful of lightening
A hatful of rain
And I know that I said
I'd never do it again
And I love you pretty baby but I always take the long way home..."
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