Sunday, January 13, 2008

The Suffering of Second-Guessing

The adult son is going to call in the morning and have the paper not print the letter. I just couldn't handle even the fear of any retaliation, I feared that it had caused his relationship with another journalist in the major city and a national organization to be hindered, I unearthed a deep-seated problem I have with people knowing anything about me or my name, other than the very good friends and family members, trusted and loving and safe.

The adult son is perhaps fed up with my weakness, with the second-guessing I do. An adult daughter addressed it, and said that now other people will continue thinking I did such a terrible thing and am crazy, likened to Jeffery Dahmer, sick, incapable of loving anything, despicable, unfortunate to have moved into the neighborhood, and not a Christian. The other adult daughter has taken me to task in the past for analyzing things.

I have accepted that I will trust the detective and postal inspector to handle anything and everything. I have accepted my fears of being harmed, of having to live even more reclusively in my hermitage (not a bad thing for a hermit and victim soul), have accepted that my neighbor is volatile and plausibly paranoid schizoprhenic, and if I'm not careful--I could head there, too! That is, if I let this get to me, and notice all the little ways she still harasses but within her rights on her own property, or what she might want to say to friends or others about me without making it a public issue or a safety issue.

The local newspaper section editor has no apologies coming out of his mouth or heart. I was going to write to him, but even the adult son said to do nothing. One adult daughter said he knows by now what his printing that did to make the hate mail possible. She said that the only problem is that the neighbors will not know the truth now. No, they won't. But maybe if the postal inspector goes after them, they will; if he finds out who sent the hate mail, they will know.

A friend said that the neighbor's group of cohorts will perhaps always want to believe her. I can accept this. It is the world. The world is suffering from embracing evil.

And I suffer from second-guessing, from analyzing and fearing. But I did also think that it is best to die in dignity, to not be the one who has slapped back at a person who is obviously ill either emotionally or mentally or spiritually, or any combination therein. And the death is unlikely to be literal, but to die to this issue without fighting back publicly. It would take a Catholic priest exorcist to face off with the devil publicly. I will use silent prayer.

And now I offer my faults of second-guessing, of being fearful, of not wanting my name in the paper or anything about me known in visible way. Yes, I e-mailed the adult son in addition to all my concerns, that a hermit is to be hidden to the eyes of men. His work on this issue already has caused the newspaper to be more cautious. And, the man already knows he is not the most adept journalist for he has been in the same slot for 27 years, and now is over-the-hill. Perhaps that is why he wanted to print a ridiculous, sensationalized letter from my neighbor to begin with: a little chance of public sensation from his newspaper section.

I add to these offerings, the suffering of having bothered my adult son with this, of having taken his time in trying to defend me--only to have me not want it, after all.

The prayers that people are offering for my poor neighbors are having great effect on me, actually. That might be yet another great good from this situation. I will learn, also, to not fear going to the mailbox. If there is but one more peep from letter or mouth, I will simply report it and stop quaking, hopefully. I admit that evil is very creepy.

All this is humbling: facing my fears and second-guessing, accepting this is how I am. It is a suffering to offer God in reparation for the evils out there in His and our world. He has created this world and all souls in it, to be shared with us, His beloved children.


Post a Comment

<< Home