Found a 1968, 12â snoopy plushie and Iâm going to give it to my dad for Fatherâs Day.
He had one just like it, it was his baby and childhood stuffed bestie as many of us have/had. He came home one day after school, when he was twelve, and his step mother had thrown it away because he was, âtoo old nowâ. Just thinking about it is enough to make me cry. The anger I hold for both my grandpa and my step-grandmother is unparalleled. And I canât help but wonder, if he had been a girl, if he would have been allowed to keep it indefinitely.
My fatherâs whimsy and good heartedness has been kicked throughout his life, so much so that he typically kicks himself now before anyone else can- if that isnât the ultimate distillation of becoming an âadultâ! He has told me he wants to believe in hope but has seen too much, and his hope has died.
No one protected my fatherâs hope. Nor my motherâs, but she is slightly more emotionally in tune to that and herself and does more work to engage it. My father wonât even acknowledge thereâs something to hope for or protect. I feel itâs related to the classic conundrum of hope is vulnerable, and so much of âbecoming an adultâ involves âremoving all vulnerabilityâ. Itâs part of why we pedestalize youth- the hopeful years! Because subconsciously most adults fall victim to the brainwashing that they must give up their hope, become realistic, become protectors, or providers and workers because the world is big and scary and it eats hope whole for breakfast, lunch and dinner! The hopeless just so happen to be easier to deceive and exploit as well.
(Thereâs also the strange sexism that says âwomenâ are allowed more vulnerability than âmenâ. Even glamorizes vulnerability for âwomenâ in distressing capacities. And this damages both parties distinctly, as well as the parties actively neglected by this binary. Patriarchy is one of my greatest heart aches, for all involved.)
People say children are cruel but that cruelty is pale and lacks substance compared to the cruelty of adults, especially the cruelty that is called love & directed towards children- including the children inside ourselves!! how else do they learn to be cruel?
I had a vision right before sleep about this stuffie being given to him with a channeled message from his original Snoopy. Beginning something like. âDanny! Youâre huge now! But really you havenât changed a bit- How Iâve missed you⌠you might be a bit suspicious of me: âYouâre not THE Snoopy.â But I promise you we are all one omnipresence, kind of like a god. So my vessel may be slightly altered, but my heart is the same- hey just like you! Thank you for waiting for me and Iâm sorry I couldnât find you sooner- I hope you werenât too lonely, I had fun but I was pretty lonely without you by my side- I love you<3â
But then again snoopy doesnât talk, does character consistency matter more here or elaborated truth? Iâm also sick so I feel like Iâm speaking gibberish
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