The beginning: Iraq.

So, we were at a comic book store when it came over the radio: The United States have just launched an attack against Iraq. It brings back alot...I have not told many about the Rahkas Wars. I am not certain I can deal with the coverage they will be airing; even if not graphic, I am positive it will be somewhat triggering. The atrocities committed by myself and others during the Wars were just that: atrocities. At times I wonder if I can merely separate myself from the former part of me who did those things. Barry says the Rahkas Wars never really occurred; there is a small part of me that resents him for saying thst. It is as if he is minimizing the experience.

I believe I shall put the "war memoirs" to paper. Admit everything. I believe getting it all out may be good for us. Otherwise, it will simply remain festering inside me, boiling and fermenting, a toxic syrupy sludge. I wonder how long it will take...if it is something I am up to doing right now. As harrowing as it will be, I owe it to them. I owe it to myself.

The trouble with small ones.

Yesterday was the sister's birthday. She turned three. It was very difficult containing Molly, as she wanted to participate in the games and such. I kept her busy Inside the best as I was able, but she still tried her damnedest to get out and play. I felt bad for her...she is a child, she does not know any better. I promised her I would find her a Caillou plush to have. That seemed to pacify her somewhat, but she mood was still melancholy. Not that I blame her; at least I understand why I am not allowed out. Molly is confused, and thinks it is completely unfair. (I think I may agree with her there.)

Other than that, the sister's party went well. I cannot help looking out for her. She reminds me much of Molly. I wonder if she will be spared abuse? We certainly hope so. Have we not endured enough? There is no reason for her to experience it, as well. Leave her alone, for fuck's sake. (Note: That goes for the nephew, as well. He will be two years old in a little over two months, and his father is an abusive prick. Luckliy, he has a sort of stepfather who seems to treat him well. We can only hope.)

Officially, Mardi Gras.

We celebrated with a King Cake, and that is about all, really. We do not know much about the history of Mardi Gras, except a little about various Krewes and such. The cake was good, and it added something for an otherwise dull day. Tomorrow will be Ash Wednesday. I am not certain if I want to participate. It seems too much like incidents from before. The entire correlation between the abuse and what is done within the church is haunting, to say the least. Communion, for example, kneeling to pray, prayers said aloud, the constant physical contact...not only triggering, but it actually causes me to become angry. Why must others always touch? Simply because people are gathered in a church in the name of God does not mean that it gives one the exclusive right to fucking start pawing us.

Well...I suppose we have much thinking to do, in regards to all this.