Pain Changes You

Changes brought on by Pain.

Pain Changes You

 

“The bomb landed outside Our Home. We were asleep. It blew a large hole into our wall.”

“The bomb killed My Wife. The bomb blinded My eight year old Son. The bomb blew off the left hand of My three year old Daughter. My face is forever scarred by shrapnel. My Wife’s Body saved Me from death. She slept next to the wall.”

 

“Pain ! All I Feel is Pain. All around me is Pain. My Wife, the Mother of my Children was murdered in her sleep. My Son’s world has gone black. My Daughter is forever lame.”

 

The Pain of Loss - of back breaking Grief - of deep Woundings.

 

“I am a Patriot ! I Love My Country ! I Love My Family ! I Love My Home ! But this ! This !” The Desolate Man shook his head and began to beat his chest - to sob - to heave - and Howl.

 

Pain Changes you.

 

The enRaged Man, one scotch too many under his Belt, Needed a whipping post - a Scapegoat for the Business deal gone bad.

 

He opened the door to his Home.

 

It was late. He was always late, in search of the Holiest of Holies - the Sacred Golden Calf - the bling and sting of the Green-back Dollar.

 

The disAppointed, enRaged and Pain-filled Man. The white collar/blue collar/dirty collared Businessman/Worker stomped into his living room filled with his four Children and the flickering glare of the family television.

 

He took off his shoes (working boots) and his expensive blazer (blue jean jacket), and holding them up said,

“Cheyenne, go hang your daddy’s jacket up, and put away my shoes.”

 

“Aw, daddy, I just sat down. I just finished my homework and washing the dishes, daddy. Please, get one of the other girls to do it.”

 

Right on cue. The enRaged Man unbuckled his Belt and quickly pulled it off from around his waist. He looped the belt in his hands, and snapping it with a loud, threatening ‘pop’ said, “I’m your Father, and when I tell you to do something. You do it.”

 

“I pay the bills around here. I put the food on the table. You will obey me. If I tell you to jump. You jump, and ask me “How High ?” “

 

“Daddy, please don’t whip me. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do it right now.”

 

“You bet you will,” and the enRaged Man lunged forward swinging the leather Belt high, and lit into Cheyenne with all of his might.

 

The other three Children ran out of the living room and scurried into distant parts of the House. The Mother stood rigidly immobile at the kitchen window, tightly gripping the stone counter with her lips compressed into a tight line of misery and indecision. Making All of the Family complicit in the Act of unnecessary Violence and Pain. Silent, tacit, suffering partners in the enRaged Man’s unwarranted, frightening Abuse and Pain.

 

One of the siblings put her fingers in her ears to shut out the tortuous wails and cries of Cheyenne. Wails and cries that seemed to go on - and on - and on forever.

 

The enRaged Man exhausted himself upon the Desolate Girl - his Child - his Property. The All-Too-Frequent-Macabre-Dance always ended in, “I Love you, Honey. You Understand why daddy had to whip you, don’t you.”

 

"No sir…I mean yes, sir. Yes, daddy, I Understand.

 

“Say it, Cheyenne or I’ll give you some more of this Belt.”

 

“Yes, daddy. I Understand why you had to whip, and I Love You, too.”

 

“That’s a Good Girl. Now, come give your daddy a kiss. Then you can go put my things away, and head on to bed. Your daddy’s tired.”

 

A vacuous pause filled the room.

 

Suddenly, Cheyenne snapped into motion. Filled with fear and revulsion she quickly gave her daddy a peck on the cheek, before he could grab her.

 

She hurriedly gathered her daddy’s things and practically ran to her parents bedroom. Turning on the lights, she hung up the jacket and threw her daddy’s shoes into the bottom of the closet.

 

Turning the lights off, she trotted down the hallway to her bedroom and locked the door. Throwing herself onto her bed, the Desolate Girl buried her face into her bedspread, and began to pound her bed with her fists crying out “I am a Good Girl ! I Love My Family ! I Love My Home ! But this ! This !” And the Desolate Girl began to sob - to heave - and Howl.

 

Pain Changes You.

 

One form of distorted Tyranny is as bad - as corrupting and damaging as another.

 

Those on the Receiving End of violent and desecrating Bullying - whether from a Nation, a Leader and his minions, an Individual, All Know that It is always the same. Tyrants/Bullies  All use Pain and Fear, Emotional Pain and Fear, Physical Pain and Fear, Calculated and/or Habitual Pain and Fear to Force their Will - their Way upon You.

 

Yes, Pain Changes You.  Fear Changes You.  From Inside Out and Outside In.

 

Pain Fractures and Strengthens You and Weakens and Fortifies You.

 

In one Infinitesimal Increment or Instantaneously Magnified Way or another - Pain Changes You.

 

Moment-by-Moment, Day-by-Day, Year-by-Year, Life-time-by-Life-time, Pain and Fear Change You.

 

For Better or for worse, Pain Changes You.

 

Is this the World We the People Want and Need - even Choose to continue to perpetuate ?