I cannot focus on one task this morning for more than thirty seconds. I take something out of the dryer and put it away and then decide to make the bed and then go back and take another thing out of the dryer and realize I never finished the dishes and then go do a few more dishes and then think I need to sweep the floor and oh, Lord.
It's pouring rain again.
I think this whole Cosby mess has dredge up the burnt crap at the bottom of the pot which should NOT be scraped up because it makes the whole soup taste like burnt crap and nasty, and soup you can just throw out and start again but you can't throw me out and start again, now can you?
In my dream last night about five people saw my stepfather trying to molest me and no one did a thing and I kept yelling at them- Why didn't you call the police?And they shrugged their shoulders and did not meet my eye and allowed him to just go on living his life in the house and he kept talking to me and I was supposed to just act normal as if nothing had happened.
I write those words and my soul shivers. I do not want to think about this. I do not want to and that's why I can't focus on anything today. Just keep moving from this task to another, it doesn't matter if I finish any of them, that's not the point the point is just to keep busy, keep moving, keep going and I feel like keening not just for me but for all the women, the children, who got turned a blind eye to when they were violated, molested, abused.
Who GET violated, molested, abused.
Who are BEING, as we speak, violated, molested abused.
In my dream my stepfather had a baby in his arms and I took it from him. I knew he could not take care of it. He would hurt it.
He is dead now. He can't hurt me or anyone's baby but here's the thing about violation, molestation, abuse, rape- it never dies. The pain of it, the shame of it, the fear in there. You show me someone who says he or she has forgiven and gone on and I will show you someone who never chooses the long spoon to stir the pot.
La-la-la! Trills Oprah. Forgive for yourself!
Cosby probably could have had any of those women. He was fucking Bill Cosby! But no, he wanted them drugged and powerless.
Sickness abounds and for every sick person there is someone who turns their back, closes their eyes, pays off the victim, terrorizes the victim into silence one way or another.
Have I ever turned a blind eye? The thought horrifies me more than anything else. What if I have? God damn me if I have. I never thought I did but what if, like my own mother, I have convinced myself that something which happened did not? But she most definitely did see other types of abuse from that man, directed at not only me but mainly my (baby) brothers and she did nothing but cry and plead with him to stop it.
She was terrorized too. I know that.
It's so complex and it's so sick and it's so sad, all of it.
And that's me today. My body hurts from it all and as it is raining again I wish I could just crawl back up in bed and read. I am exhausted. From nothing. From it all.
I think I finished washing the dishes. The floor could use sweeping again.
I could unmake that bed and crawl back in.
I don't want that little kitten to be afraid in the great big house. I don't want anyone to feel the pain of being alone, of being lost, not a child, not a sixty or ninety-year old person, not a chicken, not a cat.
Fuck you, Bill Cosby. Fuck you for what you did, for abusing the powerful love which came your way right along with the fame and the money and the respect. Fuck you.
And if his wife does not leave him now, fuck her too because who sticks by that sort of man and calls it love?
Harsh words but this is harsh shit.
And I feel certain that many, many pots, uncountable numbers of pots, are tasting of bitter ash and crap today. It does not taste good. But let's not throw ourselves away. We simply cannot and we have been through all of this before and we will go through it again and yet, we will survive.
I promise you.