I am a traditionalist. And, by that, I mean a Leftist's worst nightmare. On the other hand, I am most absolutely not the Republican kind; I haven't voted either Democrat or Republican in at least three presidential election cycles. Both parties make my stomach turn.
I am a Christian, I am divorced, and I am a mom. I am aware of the contradictions and sins in all of that. I am also, and of course, a pariah. I collect my earned income credit during every tax season.
I walk a tightrope, and I truly believe that everyone, including myself, is so enamored by the Modern Project that we have truly lost our minds.
I am somewhere between a former member of the privileged white, educated middle class and a part of the “deplorables” that many like to analyze but for whom not many actually care about when it is all said and done. I am a public school teacher in a rural community who believes that compulsory education is one of the roots of all evil.
I am a former Baptist turned Orthodox Christian, the Church who was too busy defending itself against Islam and Communism to care much about what we were doing over here in the West.
I am stuck between not wanting to offend my liberal, progressive social justice warrior friends and not wanting to betray the neo-conservative Baptists and family who gave me life and loved me beyond what was necessary.
I love America and I hate Her. I am not a Capitalist. I am not a Marxist. I am not a social justice warrior. I am not a part of the Religious Right. I am a label that noone has named.
If you have ever thought that you have nothing to say to the Other sides because the Other sides don’t have a clue what you are talking about, then maybe we have something in common. Maybe some of us, the ones stuck here in the middle wondering what the hell happened, maybe we could have a conversation. Maybe we could say a proper goodbye to what was once Western Civilization. Maybe we could hope for the best while preparing for the worst . . . together.
That’s what I think about . . . when I’m washing sheets, kissing bruises, and making dinner. . . It is a blessing and a curse.