Imagine a world where what you see, what you hear, what you smell, touch, and taste were predetermined by a long dead leader who reveled in all of the above and in fact profited off telling her adopted kin that these things essentially do not exist.
Then imagine that generations upon generations were taught the same principals as if they are rules. This world gives you immeasurable pleasures. Yet according to the now long-dead leader, you are not afforded these simple pleasures. In fact to talk about them in any form is forbidden. It was not always a spoken rule just somehow known.
Then imagine years and years of being force fed this drivel. It sounds like abuse but nary a word for it.
The thing is that this is wrapped seemingly nicely in a bow. There are books that are read, no priests but scripture. A woman whose only form of control was to manipulate others into the belief that whatever senses you are feeling do not exist.
Then look at victims of loss. The guise that this “religion” portrays quickly falls when one becomes victim to loss or trauma. For some of us still stuck in these unrealistic ways, It unlocks the world. The beautiful tragedy that makes this world palatable.
A leader who suffered loss early in her life, the loss of her husband at 22 with child in the womb. My theory is that she never left the first stage of grief. Then passed it on to generations upon generations of people. Giving them the insatiable desire to want, to need, to have, to hold.
We go through therapy, visit shrinks, anything to get past this invisible trauma inflicted upon some of us since birth. Yet every step of the way is sometimes met with the questioning. The guilt. The wonder.
Through seeming osmosis we have become complacent. We are not damaged, rather human, but the psychological torture remains. Hard to speak, hard to define.