I was going to offer a post that simply said, “Here’s my post,” but I finally paused and took a break and decided I’ve got something to say.
Nothing artful or beautiful or majestic.. just thoughts.
I’ve written a couple of these posts that are akin to entries in my Notebook, so I’ve started a new category – “Digital Notebook” under “Process”… I can’t seem to help it, even though I didn’t intend to write these kind of blog posts. I tried to be deliberate about what I write here on Puro Love, complete with revisions, because that’s the new me (I like revising my writing, as of a year-ish).. but here comes the Raw Thinking.. Hopefully it can be developed into a longer piece.
My plan is to print these Digital Notebook posts and paste them in my Notebook for further reflection — digital stuff, for me, kinda gets lost..
Onto those Raw Thoughts…
I’m disappointed because I haven’t been in my Notebook these past couple of days. But, I’m kicking that to the curb. I don’t need another negative emotion lumped on top of being unsettled for about 3 days now because of dealings with my brother.
It’s legal stuff over my Dad. It’s cruel and I hate not having peace. I’m not a denial person, I’ve had a tough life and have survived by learning not to run away, I can work through anything, I can help anyone through anything.. I can deal. It’s just that this interrupts my peace, my interior life, my family, my work, my writing. My writing.
It is already so hard to find time to pause and think and discover and reflect about beautiful things and memories in our busy lives, but have to deal with this muck.. ..I never compartmentalize and I have the worst poker face, so I tend to express:
I want to mourn my mother, sit and think of her, but there’s a hard reality we’ve been dealt — which is that my [good] sister and I are having to work through the decisions my mother made 2, 3 years before she died. Hers is such a sad, sad plight, because she loved her son more than anyone, and he had her die like a homeless person, alone — without beauty, without love, without persons or possessions, she loved.
My soul gasps just having written that!
It’s a sentence I’ve been writing to write for 12 days, maybe more, since January 20 — the day I found out she died, 5 days after her death — to make it public, make it known, make it True.
Mama hid the Truth, just like my brother hides it now, which is why I write now and publicly say he’s a rotten, low-down coward, a vain, sniveling, head-shaking narcissist, an ignorant chauvinist, a willfully depraved misogynist, a twisted, religious sadist, an evil, woman-hating hypocrite, a pathological liar, a self-righteous goon who’s made himself God.
Not anymore, Jim Perez. You’re bad, and I’m telling the world. You can’t hide it anymore.
You’ve depended on our shame to keep everything hidden. Well, I’d rather deal with the shame of having everything revealed. Surely, it can’t be any worse. You are so opposite the world that your sorry story has taught me the inverse of your puniness as a man must be true: there’s greater shame in not showing and telling, keeping the Truth from those who want to learn, know, and grow in love.
It was a stupid move. The last thing you should have ever done in your lifetime was pick on your little sister, the writer who knows your entire history, and hurt the people she loves.