Supposedly, hopefully, this is one hour into a cease fire between the evil regime of Iran, that which has been calling for “Death to Israel!” and “Death to America!” for forty years-… and the tiniest country in the middle east: Israel.

It all came about four hours ago.

Will a cease fire hold by the time I am back to the computer..?

Anita

I was mistaken in the above post: the destruction I referred to (four dead, not one, all in an apartment building that was hit by an Iranian ballistic missile) took place an hour and 20 minutes before the scheduled ceasefire (Mon, June 24, 7 am, Israel time).

But only 12 minutes later (7:12 am, Israel time), Iran sent 15 more ballistic missiles into the north of Israel. And then again, 3.5 hours later, 2 more missiles were sent into Israel. Four hours later (four hours ago), Israel attacked in Northern Iran.

I want to note that Israel has been targeting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, ballistic missile capabilities, and scientific personnel directly involved in weapons development. Iran’s missile attacks, however, targe civilian infrastructure: people’s homes (most who live in tall apartment buildings).

Anita

Journaling—something I do in my own threads, just typing out whatever comes to mind:

There is a gap between the desire to connect with other people and the reality of disconnect—or of connection that doesn’t last.

My biggest failure-to-connect was with my own mother. Oh, how hard I tried. And for how long.

I was young and, naturally, able to connect. She was too damaged, too sick to connect.

Fast forward: I find myself in a world full of damaged people who are unable to connect, at least not for long.

I was a troubled teenager and young adult. Sick. But with lots of healing work—or perhaps a better word: transformation work—I’m now able to connect. And I’m okay within myself. Gone is the torment-within.

But still—I’m aware that the world, in large parts, hasn’t healed. Hasn’t transformed.

The leader of the “free world” is a sick egomaniac.

It isn’t true, what he says (and what Netanyahu repeats), that the nuclear weapons capabilities of Iran have been destroyed. It’s simply not true. It’s just what both of them—Trump and Netanyahu—say to promote themselves, and no one else. At the expense of the truth.

Connecting. Trying to connect—in a broken world.

I keep going back to my mother, myself… because that’s where the origin lies: the desire to connect. The failure to connect. The shock. The betrayal of trust. The resulting decades-long anxiety and depression. (C-PTSD.)

Betrayal of Trust is a Global Epidemic, says I.

Acronym: BOTAGE.

Of course, I don’t trust the Iranian regime (their “Death to Israel!” “Death to America!” chants come to mind).

And I don’t trust Netanyahu. Nor do I trust Trump.

I don’t trust the Democratic Party candidates who ran against Trump either—nor all those career politicians who call themselves “public servants” while serving primarily themselves.

BOTAGE has been going on for too long: politicians bought by major corporations, including the multinational corporations that manufacture and sell weapons systems—which, by definition, profit from war and death.

“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” — 1 Timothy 6:10

“Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence.” — Genesis 6:11

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have.” — Hebrews 13:5

Those words were written nearly 3,000 years ago.

Fast forward: VOILÀ. Here we are, Surprise.. not.

I find comfort in just seeing all this as-is.

Anita

My heart is breaking for the seven Israeli soldiers—19, 20-year-olds—killed in Gaza most recently. They look so young, they could all be my grandchildren. One is laughing in the photo, so youthfully happy. Another looks so… innocent, almost childlike. One, I think, is Ethiopian-Israeli (when I left Israel in 1985, the Ethiopian immigration was very new; this boy wasn’t even born). Another might be the child of Russian immigrants, from that later wave of immigration.

Seeing their faces in the photos breaks my heart.

I feel… selfish for being so old, and yet alive—when they were cut off from life, not even a third of my age. I never knew any of them alive. And yet, I’d give my life for them if it meant they could live.

I just read that Iran arrested 700 Iranians they suspect of spying for Israel. I feel badly for them. I imagine they’re being tortured.

So much cruelty. So much torture and death.

Why… I wish not.

Anita

Journaling, whatever comes to mind this Wed night, very close to 11 pm (dark, totally dark, no birds):

My mother comes to mind simply because there was never a person more important, more powerful in my mind and heart, than my mother.

Simply, she has been The One.

She didn’t know she was. But she was.

She didn’t notice the little person who cared for her more than anything..

She didn’t notice that one entity (me) who would have done anything… anything for her.

Who is Anita? Answer: a girl who loves her mother. A girl whose love was not noticed, not even detected as a thing of value.

This is it. This is my story: Love that was never Noticed, or Valued as anything of.. value.

Unnoticed Love. Such that will never be noticed.. by anyone other than me.

That’s in the core of me: Unnoticed.

And she’d never know, never had the capacity to understand this simple, little- big fact: that of a girl loving her mother.

I hear, in my mind, people criticizing me, not understanding.. thinking badly of me for.. not moving on from this devastation- a devastation of a love unnoticed and unreciprocated for way too long.

But really, no one is reading this, I mean.. So, it’s almost like private journaling.

Again, it’s about loving someone so very much, so very deeply while they don’t even notice, and worse: they (she, my mother) seeing me as the enemy, as a Hater- the TOTAL opposite of the truth of whom I was, of what I was about-

No, No, No Mother- no, you are misunderstanding: I don’t hate you like you say, I LOVE YOU!

And she says, like she always said: You are a bad girl, Anita, you are a hateful girl. All you want is to HURT me.

No, no mother- this is not true!

But it is, she says, you are a bad- bad little girl.

No, I LOVE YOU!

No, you hate me, she says.

And so, my love could never reach her, never accepted; always rejected.

My healing, my recovery- as much as is possible for me- is BELIEVING that really, I was that LOVING little girl, and not that hateful girl she said I was so many, many times, drilling that false message into me.

That was her imagination, her real, pathological paranoia- it was not who I was, not who I am.

And this is what’s it’s about: her paranoia no longer taking me hostage: I am NOT who she said I was (so many, many times). I am not hateful! No! I am a loving person. You got me so very wrong, mother!

But there’s no point and no one to reach this with.. it was only you and I there, back then. You insisted I was BAD. I say: I was and I am GOOD. You were wrong.

Who I am? A loving girl, a loving person, and I will go to my grave, or non-grave: a LOVING girl, a loving Anita..

Anita (that’s me…)

Dear Alessa:

Thank you so much for your kind and generous reply. I could feel your warmth in every word—and I want you to know how deeply I appreciate it.

Your detailed explanation about how the card readers and self-checkouts work was so patient and thoughtful. You took the time to walk me through something that might seem small to others, but to me, feels like a stressful blur of technology. I live with ADHD and learning disabilities, and those make it extremely difficult—and at times feel nearly impossible—for me to learn and use new technology.

I do need new clothes but going shopping feels like too much and buying online.. that’s too much technology for me! And by the way, I do drive from time to time, but not far (not far enough for clothes shopping, which would be maybe 20 km from here (I live outside the city limits and the nearest downtown area is small)

Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for your attention and kindness ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Anita