Many of you know I suffer from Stockholm Syndrome. My oppressor unleashes her reign of terror on my house….and as the oppressed know, we are never safe…no matter the time of day or night. I am in good company. I know this. We all suffer. I know I am not alone in my Stockholm Syndrome suffering because I see the rest of you, and you don’t leave either.
In my house, the most intimidating warden, the one we fear the most, weighs about 32 pounds.
The smaller ones are always the scrappiest. Those with battle wounds all know this. They tend to also be really cute and have fat wrists. Don’t be fooled.
My other oppressor, she is the heavy weight, weighing in at around 45 pounds but she’s less intimidating. Her patterns are more regular, her behavior less erratic and more predictable. Plus she can be reasoned with, most of the time. Her role is to feed into the erratic behavior of the smaller of my prison guards. It is still a critical role, though more discreet for the battle worn and bruised.
As I stare down summer with my oppressors, I am bedeviled by some of their behaviors. I will have nothing but time to observe this species of human for the next few months and I will continue to marvel over their odd behavior. What else does a prisoner do, of course, except observe her captors and fantasize about her escape?
Oppressor Odd Behavior Summer List 2012 Commences Immediately and will continue sporadically all summer. Please do add to the list:
Why not just go to the bathroom? Why insist she doesn’t have to pee? She will fight me to the death on this even though we both know the outcome. Why does my oppressor cause her own self harm in this action? Is it because she knows that a miss then causes me some pain and agony because I am left to clean it up?
It’s part of my punishment. Punishment for what, I’m never sure. Also part of the reign of terror. Learn to not ask why.
Why do both oppressors fight over the SAME swing when there is an empty one right next to it? I call this mental torture. Cleaning up unnecessary potty accidents is more physical torture. Whereas negotiating with two irrational wardens while they duke it out over the same swing…inevitably someone ends up bruised and crying….while the other swing moves swiftly in the breeze, so sad that he is rejected. His rejection is no better understood by him than by me. It’s a break up we will ever understand. It is a secret understood only by the wardens. Do they collaborate alone together at night over the reasons?
Why must they make the swing sad along with moi? He is identical to his twin on the right. If he were different, that would cause an entirely different set of problems.
I call this one physical and mental torture inflicted by the oppressors. Especially the light weight. If it is not served on the Spiderman plate it CANNOT BE EATEN.
Frankly, it probably shouldn’t even be trusted. Even if I had a beefeater to test her food.
She will starve first.
My poor prunish hands, so tired from the constant washing. We can replace said spiderman plate with her favorite shirt…..”Just because I wore it yesterday and then painted ALL OVER IT and then went into the SANDBOX that was WET….why can’t I WEAR IT TO BED….and then again tomorrow?”
“Why isn’t it ready to be worn clean and fresh the next day?”
Ahh yes….the perpetual laundry and washing of the exact same things…..it’s like they are the prisoners with the set wardrobe, instead of me. Do we dare bother trying to reason with the smallest of oppressors on these things? Is it worth the mental torture? Mr. Sad Swing wants to know too….just like all the other Mr. Sad plates and bowls and shirts that get rejected every day.
Rejection is Oppressor M.O.
What do your oppressors do that defies logic? And as a coping mechanism for the summer, I propose we project. Today, I am pretending I am Meredith Viera (minus the big hat), interviewing him in London:
Let’s add to the list….what did I forget? Join WM on FB to keep up with observations from an imprisoned parent all summer long.