We are overwhelmed in our everyday compulsion to lie, I mean in practicing our parental duties. “I feel tired, ill, I cannot talk to you right now”, later on not near so, the private kindergarten is not ok, there is a dump, dark atmosphere in the playroom (the strangest situation ever), the educators are some uneducated brutes, she poured soup on your pants without apology, although I saw it with my own eyes on the group cam available for use and scrutiny to the caring, sensitive, loving their offspring moms. You, my kid, better spend your first several years of your lucid life mumbling with dear granny, while your dad is full-time 7/7, 365 days busy in another country earning money to build the dream two-storied house for our sweet family, and I am trying hard, the second decade to finish my undergraduate studies and finally take a qualificative degree, in the meanwhile deeply engulfed into the Internet abys.
We so perversely like to deceive that we wrap ourselves up into an invented trench of lies and invented patches of a woven tartan of deception. Erecting on a pedestal a resourcefully-tricky, sexy, fair SELF that feeds (that image, self-presentation) from the miserable situation of the “dependents”, the hard-working spouse with whom you are ashamed to go out, but good enough to manipulate into gratifying all and every one of your whims. The kid for whom you are not a pedagogue to educate, to teach the language, nor a nurse to wash the rear, not in the least a doctor to treat; granny should cook to feed you both regularly and nutritionally correct, wash the dishes, do the bed after you leave. Why in the third and a half decade a woman is not rape enough and ready to become a mother. The planned parenthood’s miraculous techniques worked wonders to make a child but not to create a mother, helas.
The spotlight effect is dazzling you. You are in the act of continuously dropping some witty elaborate scenes; had reserved for exclusively yourself the yellow bitter bile replicas projected into the internet texture waiting for the echo back pong, rejoicing of the domino effect that grows into an avalanche of boules-de-neige. Always hand-holding the intelligent apple you attribute to yourself the miracle of a new daylight on planet and tax heavily the entourage for not serving you well. The transparence illusion is a delusion as people do not know how you really feel, which are your needs, frustrations so as to gratify them, support them, laugh with you in the network! The majority 99,99% – do not care, you are not the lombelico del mondo, the earth does not revolve around you, while your Adult Attachment Test score is negative with your folks and the attitude of your closest kin does not have any value for you.
Entirely preoccupied with our self-interest we do not take into account that the entourage and context define who we are and this should mobilize and shape our response behavior. When are we going to meet expectations of our status and role and comply with our commitments! Not just on a special day, on a special occasion of a play-off, but AS A RULE…