It was a bad weekend.
Sometimes divorced parenting is just a case of accepting you’ve failed before you open your eyes in the morning.
It doesn’t get easier, it just gets more complicated.
Flea was upset, I was upset, I’m fairly sure the postman would have been upset, if I’d had a chance to talk to him.
And then some fundamentalist dicks (‘scuse my French) decided that the best thing to do with THEIR weekend was to start slaughtering innocent people.
The weekend went from bad, to just sad.
It felt like the whole world caught its breath. Shocked, horrified and mystified. How the HELL can this happen? WHY does it happen?
I saw Tweets. Lots of Tweets.
I didn’t Tweet.
I had no words. I was shocked and horrified, but I tend to think that a Tweet from me isn’t going to mean a blind thing to anyone involved in this sort of tragedy. My words won’t bring solace to anyone who needs it.
I didn’t go online for most of the day – I wanted to shield my daughter from those words, and those pictures. Because I have no idea how I help her make sense of something so senseless.
The thing about social media is that it doesn’t necessarily show how anyone feels. Just because someone doesn’t Tweet doesn’t mean they don’t care. And just because they do Tweet doesn’t mean that they do.
For everyone who wants to talk about a tragedy on social media because it comforts them, or perhaps brings a sense that they’re doing something in a situation where there is simply nothing to be done, there’s someone who feels that putting their feelings into 140 characters would trivialise them, or that a quiet prayer shared with friends and family is more appropriate for them.
Within minutes of logging on that evening, though, I saw it.
This person is a Terrible Person because they didn’t Tweet.
This person is a Terrible Person because they did Tweet, but they Tweeted the WRONG thing.
This person is a Terrible Person because they wrote a blog post that I don’t agree with.
This person is a Terrible Person because they did/didn’t change their Facebook avatar
This person is a Terrible Person because they did/didn’t mention Palestine or Lebanon in their prayers.
You know that it’s nonsense, right?
The Terrible People? In this situation, they’re the ones with guns and bombs. If this is a war for hearts and minds, then I firmly believe, with every fucking fibre of my being that the only way to win it is to remember the values of kindness, tolerance and understanding. To embrace and allow for difference, in word, thought, and action.
Rather than jumping on someone who responds to tragedy differently to you, why not just let it be? If you really want to debate a difference in opinion, then do so with an open mind. If its very existence upsets you, click to another page. Watch another TV show. Read another paper. Simple.
When my Facebook timeline isn’t filled with wishes for peace, or sympathy for the bereaved but with debates about this picture or that update or that hashtag, something’s gone awry. Does it matter?
Here’s a thought – sometimes, nothing is right. Everything is wrong. Everyone is sad. When our world tips upside down, there’s only one right thing to do – show a little kindness, where you can.