I was reading about the suicide rate in republican areas and how the number of attempts is higher than in democratic areas (a U.S. article). Why is it that the Right (political term to describe a certain set of beliefs) seem to be harsh or hard people? My wife and I were talking about the election in Canada, over here. There are at least three political parties that have a goal to help the poorer people and look after the Earth. The other party is hard. Hard in their way they deal with the public and with themselves. They are in power and will mostly likely get in power again. The other three steal votes from each other, while this one party only has to contend with people who are hard like them, the Conservative Party.
I am not posting about politics, I want to explain how I feel right now. People know Indians, at least they think they know Indians. But really what does the public really know? We can get a picture or idea from what we see, what we read and what others tell us. Still we will never ever really know, unless we are in that box with them. Living with the rules (the way things are) they live with. Not necessarily the legislative rules, but the mindset, the norms of how we live. You only think we know them, but we really don't. The government and bureaucrats interact with them all the time and they don't know them. They measure them with the scales of main stream rules and norms. They don't know really what the "ways" are. Like a way of thinking 140 years ago, the 'mixed bloods' were not left out of Treaty because the People didn't want their grandkids left out of the community. Today there is a underlying view of contempt for the mixed bloods, even by others that have mixed bloods. So you live with that in your life, that little bit of resentment. It is just the norm. There are ways that you live that people don't know.
With me it is the same thing. I seem normal (whatever normal means) and function as well as can be under the circumstances. Is it I am fine? Nope. I am crushed inside. I am in a deep pit that I can see out of once in awhile. I feel dirt piled on me and I can't look myself in the eye.
I miss the company of my son, my boy. Sure it is going to be six years. Six years. Can't I get over it already. Why hang on to that pain? Strange. Why keep on pretending that I am okay?
I am a kind person. Or am I a monster that is just lurking to lash out on imagined (or real)wrongs that were done to me or my boy?
Yeah, you don't know me, you only think you do.