Fabulous Acts Of Revenge

Funny, funny, funny.

Suzie Speaks

We all have those days where we fantasise about enacting revenge on those that have done us wrong. After this morning’s incident with my annoying neighbour I started thinking about revenge tactics, which inevitably lead to the development of this post. I’ve compiled a list of some of my favourite acts of revenge. Before I begin, I’d like to categorically state that I don’t condone any of these. I do, however, find them fabulous, inventive and inspiring and thought that I’d share them with you…

1. Dirty Panties

Girl finds another woman’s soiled panties at her house. Suffice to say, she wasn’t particularly happy about the situation.

Her revenge? Name and shame on Facebook. I obtained this from:

http://www.happyplace.com/14807/the-most-bitterly-satisfying-acts-of-revenge-on-an-ex-after-a-breakup

2. Cheating Wife

A man discovered his wife was cheating on him with his best friend.

His revenge? He sold two hundred sexy photos of her on eBay. The man offered the…

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Block, Unfollow or What?

I’m wondering whether to go into my settings and block some posts or unfollow some.

I have linked to many bloggers in the two and a bit weeks I have been doing this and there are some amazing stories out there.

There are also some extremely upsetting ones too. I’m an adult and I should be able to listen to the news and read others’ experiences without taking them to myself.

But I don’t know if I can.

Sometimes I completely steer clear of news channels as they release strong emotions in me and they are not of the most pleasant kind.

I shout at the TV and tell politicians they are talking crap. Or I weep at the hurts the world inflicts on itself and others.

Neither of these two reactions really benefits anyone.

So I try to get on with my life and make an impact in my daily dealings with others and in my choices.

I have visited posts this weekend and not really done any posting myself.

And I wondered why. Especially after doing so much last weekend.

I checked my stats. I noticed that no posting means fewer visits. That makes sense. I also noticed I was commenting on quite a number of posts and some of them are ones that really drain me.

I can feel their pain. And. And I don’t know what.

I didn’t start this blog to depress myself or depress others. Apologies if I have unwittingly done so.

Whenever I have been depressed all the oomph goes out of me and I realise that reading about other people’s depressions has the same effect on me.

I am heart sorry for their hurt. But, if I keep reading them I don’t think I’ll blog again.

I can feel their depression and it takes me back to where I don’t want to be.

So what do I do?

Do I unfollow? But I don’t want them to feel that it’s because I don’t care or that I’m not listening to them. Or do I block those posts so that they do not appear on my page, ‘force’ me to read them and plunge me into darkness?

Those bloggers I am referring to have visited my pages possibly because I have posts with tags of ‘depression’,’ bullying’, ‘life’.

I visit in return.

I stay to sympathise or empathise.

I return to see how they’re doing.

I feel selfish now that I don’t want their problems.

Isn’t that awful?

Maybe it’s because, like listening to the news, I can’t do a lot from outside the picture. I can best help in everyday, moment to moment scenarios. Trickles of hurt are manageable. Oceans of sadness and hurt are overwhelming. And I don’t want to drown in their sadness.

I can’t be the only one who feels this way.

What do others do?

Block, unfollow or what?

 

Growth

(13-10-07)

A flower blooms,

fragrant

true to form

and intention.

Unplucked

blossoms.

Eyes behold beauty .

Unbidden,

growing

flourishing –

sweet aroma and attraction.

Sands shift in the desert,

ever-changing,

creating wondrous forms,

enveloping and enticing,

lost.

Undulating,

soothing,

hidden life below.

Rain

make the desert bloom.

Unformed

infants

nurtured

into maturity

clinging and growing

seeds taking form

fulfilling

potential.

Spirit

blossoming,

flourishing

with love.

Daughter

She’s grown now

Has a life of her own

All choices, hers.

Daughter to woman

And such a woman.

She makes me proud

And glad of the effort

The direction

Encouragement

Love.

Where is the Love?

She sits at her desk

Head on folded arms

Escape in school

From home-life harm.

Hunger gnaws at her belly

Tiredness in her bones

Where is parental love

And care?

She gazes at happy children

And wonders

Where is her chance?

Teacher

Sends her for toast.

One need met.

Tries to build confidence

Reassurance

Affirmation.

She heads home

To neglect.

Officialdom

Monitors closely.

Where is the love?

The Right to Rest

I Give In

I really, really do.

According to GMT, it is 4.45a.m.

This, of course means that,

Because I am tired and need to go to sleep,

All suffering has ended for the evening.

And I am so happy.

Because now I can go to sleep in the knowledge that:

No child is hungry,

No child is afraid,

No child whispers dark thoughts to another.

No child wishes for playdates and release from suffering.

I’m so glad that we’ve sorted out the

Priorities.

Now,

And only now,

I can rest.

In the knowledge that

All children are happy.

All children are created equal.

Ok, God, I give Up

I’m getting a wee tiny bit fed up with God right now.

He keeps reminding me that I’ve got to do stuff.

And I’ve already got a lot of stuff to do.

I mean, who decides whose stuff is more important?

Is it my fault that some kids are enduring hardship beyond my imaginings?

Is it my fault that I’m not in the vicinity to comfort and console?

No way.

This shit is happening everywhere.

I can’t be everywhere.

I wish I could.

Like Superman turning back time to

Undo the doings of

Well, whoever.

I want to be

Wonderwoman

Or some gorgeous Superhero.

But, I’m not.

OK?

Do you get it?

I’m not.

Mrs. A picks up the broken child.

Mrs B reassures them that it’s not their fault.

Mrs C administers the plasters and the

There, theres.

I,

What do I do?

I watch

I listen

I read

I think

I plan

I teach them a better way.

I hope.

I believe.

I hold.

I comfort.

I cherish.

I suffer with them.

I be there.

Reaching out to Mum

Right. This is just getting ridiculous.

Let me state quite clearly…….. I did not come onto this site to be everyone’s mum.

OK?

Got that?

I am not your mum.

I love you.

I care about you.

I want you to happy.

I want you to be comfortable in your own soul.

I hurt if you hurt.

I feel what you feel.

I want to soothe your ailments.

Does that make me your Mum?

No. It makes me human.

Your mum is already out there..

Maybe she needs you to reach out to her?

I don’t know.

I really, really don’t know.

No kidding.

But.

If your mum, for whatever reason (And it better be a really good reason. Don’t give me any crap about how hard she is on you, or how she makes you do chores. Sob. Sob.), really is not there for you then, OK, I give in.

I don’t seriously need any more children. Really, I don’t. Although a gorgeous little baby would not be unwelcome. (Don’t go there. You’re too old. Stop it. Be a granny. Eventually.)

I hurt.

I mean. I really hurt.

I cannot bear the pain that children experience, without wanting, in some way, to alleviate it.

But. I am not your Mum. She is out there. Somewhere. Probably wondering about you.

Reach out.

Too often the child is forced to be the adult. But, sometimes, it is worth it.

Reach out.

In my belief, it is a rare woman who is not moved by their own child.

I qualify.

It is a rare parent who is not moved by their own child.

I either have been very lucky or very blessed to have the love of a good man. (And I use ‘good’ selectively).

So many hurts. So much suffering.

Seriously, I did not enrol to embrace what I encounter daily.

But.

But.

But.

I will never turn my back on a soul that is suffering.

Please, I beg you, find another way. A better way.

Leave me out of this equation if you can.

But.

But.

But.

If you exhaust all, and I mean all, avenues for comfort and understanding, I will not turn my back on you.

I made  that promise to myself a long time ago.

And it holds good.

Seriously, I did not come here for this.

I do not want this.

I want to explore me. Not you. Not you and your problems.

But, I promise you, if you have exhausted all avenues before you, I will not ignore you.

Please try, on your own terms, first.

Please.

We are all souls looking to be understood.

And everything I said I qualify with the right you have to seek help where you can find it. And the duty I have to provide it where I can.

First, turn to mum.

If that fails, I humbly ask you to accept that I will stand in her stead until she is in a position to hold you and comfort you as all mothers should.x

Always double-check. I do.

I am so chuffed with myself for speling diarrhoea corectly. Seriosly. I cheked on my speling app and I was write.

Testing! Testing!

Right. I’m doing this as a test.

Is my Word programme working properly? Are font sizes doing what they are mean to do?

Is God listening to, my often inconsequential, pleadings?

So far so good.

Everything appears to be acting as normal, Captain.

But, are we good to go?

Well, how the hell am I supposed to know, Capitaaan. I don’t know what alien creature sabotaged our last mission.

Bugger this for a game of soldiers! Everything appears to be working as it should.

Beam me up!