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The Myth of Pandora

From her is the race of women and female kind:
of her is the deadly race and tribe of women who
live amongst mortal men to their great trouble,
no helpmates in hateful poverty, but only in wealth.

He reaches deadly old age without anyone to tend his years,
and though he at least has no lack of livelihood while he lives,
yet, when he is dead, his kinsfolk divide his possessions amongst them.

-Hesiod

It is said that Zeus ordered Hephaestus, the Greek God of Blacksmiths to “create” the first woman on Earth in order to punish man for receiving Fire from Prometheus.

It is said that each of the Twelve Gods gave her a gift, in order to ensure that she would survive against the tribe of man.

Athena dresses her in a silvery gown, an embroidered veil, garlands and an ornate crown of silver.

In another version I found on Wikipedia, Athena taught her needlework and weaving; Aphrodite “shed grace upon her head and cruel longing and cares that weary the limbs”; Hermes gave her “a shameful mind and deceitful nature” Hermes also gave her the power of speech, putting in her “lies and crafty words”; Athena then clothed her; next Persuasion and the Charites adorned her with necklaces and other finery the Horae adorned her with a garland crown. Finally, Hermes gives this woman a name: Pandora – “All-gifted” – “because all the Olympians gave her a gift” 

Hermes gave her a shameful mind and deceitful nature, but none of this describes what happened to her after she was set free upon the Earth. All we hear next is that she opened her sacred box, which was apparently a jar, and released into the world all the darkness, pain and sorrow the Universe had to offer.

Only Hope was left within her unbreakable house,
she remained under the lip of the jar, and did not
fly away. Before [she could], Pandora replaced the
lid of the jar. This was the will of aegis-bearing
Zeus the Cloud gatherer.

No one talks about when or if Hope gets out of the jar, no one tells us that Hope struggled and found a way to escape in order to save humanity, or why she might want to fight against all of the darkness in the world in order to give humans hope, and yet all the time when bad things happen we say “have hope.” Interesting.

Back to my original point here, women were supposedly created in the Greek Myth, to cause harm to men, we were created as a weapon, and yet we are so often pointed at each other, that we forget that we come from these Ancient and Powerful beings whose stories still resonate with us today.

Women are statistically meaner to other women then we are to men, when a woman has an affair with your partner, you blame the other woman, because it’s easier than sitting back and asking what you could have done to repair the damage yourself. Don’t @ Me it takes three people for an affair to be successful.

It takes the original couple, and the third wheel who all come together to destroy something that was once considered beautiful. At minimum it takes three people, and yet we always inevitably blame “the other woman,” in the situation. When a woman has her fault, it’s always “the woman’s fault,” because she strayed and spread her legs for another person. It’s rarely the man’s fault.

Prometheus apparently gave fire to man after Zeus removed it from the Earth, in the war of the God’s the humans were punished with a woman named Pandora, who was genuinely built to hate men. She was built with a deceitful nature, but we never stop to wonder if Pandora was evil by choice, or if she was evil because that’s what the God’s intended for her.

By that I mean we never stop to understand the psychology of a woman who would do exactly what she was forced to do, because that’s what her great mission on earth was. She was here to punish man, and she had daughter. This is important, stay with me;

In Greek mythology, Pyrrha (/ˈpɪrə/; Ancient Greek: Πύρρα) was the daughter of Epimetheus and Pandora and wife of Deucalion of whom she had three sons, Hellen, Amphictyon, Orestheus; and three daughters Protogeneia, Pandora II and Thyia.

Now assume that all of these people are real, suppose that for a second, their genetic disposition to be assholes, passed down in the gifts given to the God’s by Pandora are apart of us today because we are genetically predisposed to be assholes.

Perhaps the bad attitudes, the cycle of abuse and anger that mother passes on to daughter who passes on to daughter to sons and so on and so forth is a genetic disease that we are still trying to understand today, and maybe that’s why there’s so much chaos in the world.

Maybe Zeus really did have a woman made as a weapon against the humans he thought might test his power one day, perhaps that’s true, and she had children, and those children are our ancestors, that means that it’s not actually our fault that we are so cruel to each other.

That being said, it’s still no excuse to be a fucking asshole, so maybe knock it off? I am so tired of people who blame everyone else for their problems instead of admitting they could have done things differently.

The last few months of my life have been a never ending mental list of things I could/should/would/might do differently if only, if only I had more money, more opportunity, more self love, more love in general.

If only he and I hadn’t lost a child, if only we weren’t both suffering from trauma, if only we weren’t selfish maybe we’d have found our way back to each other one day in a healthier way. Or maybe next time he’ll pound me until I die, because why the fuck would I go back to someone who used to shove me around in the hopes that things will be better “this time.”

Behavior patterns are called Behavior Patterns for a reason, the FBI even has an entire division devoted to understanding Behavioral Science, it’s called The Behavioral Analysis Unit. Their job is to study behavior in all it’s weird and wonderful forms, including but not limited to genetically, and then they go out and they use that information to hunt down serial killers and pedophiles, it’s pretty cool actually.

There is no story that explains choice however….to keep any war fair, it was Mars and Aries, Gods of War, as long as humans feel they have a choice, they are willing to participate, but the moment that humans do not have a choice they shut down, just like in the Matrix. They fail, it’s a consequence of being human, we have the right to have a choice, the choice we make is all ours, and while it might be a hell of a lot easier to give into the meanness, to the worst of ourselves, it’s not ever the right choice.

The right choice is always to follow your heart, and if your heart is telling you to lash out then your heart needs to take a break, because you aren’t in control of your mind and that is how I did it.

I had to focus, every second of every single day trying to understand why my life turned out the way it did, to understand that in my past years I haven’t always had a choice. I didn’t choose a boyfriend who beat the crap out of me, and he didn’t choose to lose a child. We lost a child because he chose to do drugs, and those drugs made him act out in ways he wouldn’t have otherwise.

I didn’t choose to be beaten up and abused by my boyfriend – but he did choose to use drugs, which forced him to behave and lash out in ways he wouldn’t have and did not when he was sober. The consequence of that was that we lost a child. I will always love him, because for a tiny moment in time, we shared blood, we shared what could have been, might have been, and maybe even should have been in another life, a brand new life that hadn’t existed, and that no one else could ever have created before. That’s a bond that will never be broken, but it doesn’t mean that I’ll ever be with him again.

That relationship ran it’s course in the most violent awful ways possible, but there are pockets of kindness, and genuine love that I will always cherish because I choose to.

I have a lot of men in my life wondering how it is that I could call men like the ones once talked about on this website family to this day. It’s because they allowed me to tell the most awful lies about them so that the truth could come out. The men in my tribe, Adam, Doug, Michael, Brandon, Angel, Phil, Bill, the men who allowed me to emotionally rip myself and them apart so that the truth of what Doctor Golden did to me, to us, could come out, is a gift I can’t repay. How the hell can I not call them my family?

I didn’t choose to be a victim of sexual abuse any more than they did, but I did choose to survive it, to learn from it, to understand the psychology of Victimology and Survival techniques.

I understand that the medication that I am on is helping me more and more every day to overcome the pain of understanding that comes with knowing your childhood was hijacked by abusers, and that the consequences of that hijacking are going to last with me for the rest of my life.

I chose to surrender everything I thought I knew about myself, so that I could relearn who I am by looking at the way that I think other people might see me, and I have to tell you, it’s not pretty.

You cannot erase what happened to you, that is impossible. I cannot change the past because I am not Steven Strange, but I changed my future by deciding that I wanted to be strong enough to survive anything. That was my Birthday Wish, and has been for the last thirty six years.

Every year on my birthday I silently whisper “thank you for letting me get through one more year,” because I know how great time is. I understand the finer points of being grateful for every single second I have on this earth, and maybe that’s because I lost a child, or maybe that’s because I just learned that life can really suck when you’re young.

I look around today and my life is more messy than it’s ever been, I’m broke, I have a debt to pay to Winnipeg apparently, because you can’t get arrested for no reason without being forced to pay for the cost of proving that you were innocent. Shit sucks man, and yet I still have a hundred or so love letters to hand out, that remind me just how lucky I am to be as loved as I am, by the same men I thought raped me. I genuinely thought, could be capable of the kind of evil that happened to me not so long ago.

Because I forgot, I got so stuck in the “why me”, that I couldn’t remember all the good things about all the good people that I have in my life. The people I thought were my friends walked away from me without ever looking back, and those I thought hated me, keep coming back to remind me they love me, in a million tiny ways that I forgot could exist, because I forgot Majick could exist.

Death is something I am keenly comfortable with these days, I spent so many years just trying to survive that I forgot the importance of learning to live.

Every year I think about my son, my would have been, could have been, might have been son or daughter, and I’ve always called him Connor because that’s what he said he wanted to name his son. If I’d had a choice? if our child had lived, I think I would have called him Dillon because I was a huge fan of 90210 and that was my favorite character.

I might have called him Dillon Michael Christopher, for my little brother who is in a very real way is my hero. So…that’s the name that I am giving to my would have been would have been could have been child. Dillon Michael Christopher Hallgate, it works for a boy or a girl. Because I fucking say so.

Happy Birthday Angel, wherever you are, I love you and am in more ways than I can count, in love with who you could have been…may you rest in peace.

Love,

Mom

 

 

 

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