How Could We Feel Hurt If We Didn’t First Feel Love?
Like the rest of America, I’ve been considering the ethical nature of the choices made by Gypsy Rose. Her story resonates with me, and I think with others, because those closest to her caused so much harm and she took a stand in an extremely dramatic and violent way. Both she and her mother invoke feelings of rejection, frustration, anger, sadness, forgiveness, injustice, and vengeance.
While on completely different levels, we all understand at least some of those feelings in some way or another. Many of us have faced an abuser, many of us have faced family difficulties, many of us have had to mold ourselves in the image that our parents wanted for themselves.
Growth is something that, in my opinion, Gypsy Rose wasn’t able to experience. She was trapped, and when we are unable to flourish and are repressed, it’s possible we begin to make decisions that don’t turn out well and at times have consequences that are lasting in ways we may have never expected.
Another captivating aspect of her story is how we often assign the roles of villain and hero to her. We are captivated because it echoes our own struggle with ethical values. We grapple to make sense of this, and as a result, we are drawn to stories like these that resonate with our emotions and make us ponder and question our own judgment.
My family will always bring a smile and a tug at my heart simultaneously. This is not a post about anything I hold against them, on the contrary. Oftentimes, it’s so easy to still love those that hurt us so deeply, to feel the effects of their harm and still feel what we perceive or hope or perhaps even is Love.
While looking through my 250,000+ pictures, I saw these pictures form a road trip from 21 years ago, and I love these. While I have deep feelings of frustration towards my grandfather for being a Jehovah’s Witness elder and guiding the family as a patriarch into the religion long before I was born, I also saw him as a loving grandfather, someone who loved adventure, someone who loved to study and research and grow, someone who dreamed and taught me how to be passionate. I’m thankful that I have beautiful memories that preceded the pain I feel today.
My grandpa and I visiting the Biodome in 2003.The Biodome
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