An individual lives in a society. Since he is born different invisible communicational bonds are formed between his brain and the others’. Maybe some of you are familiar with the Information Theory in Psychology. I will not try to express my thoughts in a scientific manner, as I told you all those systematized informations I gathered from books in harsh conditions were forcefully deleted from my brain by horrible tortures day after day. I will explain in a simple manner, as if talking with someone. The society has many fields where people’s beliefs, attitudes or conduct are gathered, forming an organized cluster of information, for example politics. I chose to speak about how politics affected my lonely and miserable life, because this social area is more important in some people minds than others (religion for example).
No one can deny the importance and self-propagation of political arenas and beliefs in the world. Even in ancient times Aristotle introduced the concept of “zoon politikon”. But I am talking about my personal experience, the fact that I am really killed, not suicidal, without any guilt. Parenthesis: All those I have known in my life were doing me wrong without any guilt from my part. For the contrary, I asked for freedom since I was 13, when the abuses upon me began and 28 years my pleas were rejected. I was still hoping and praying that the truth will be said entirely because I did only good things (deeds, thoughts, feelings), I helped others, I never imagined evil things, I gave everything I could give, with positive thinking, still receiving only evil instead. And everyone said that I must be completely silent and bear my cross and that they will never admit the truth about me. I really don’t understand their attitude because my life was perfect (it is not vanity). I don’t understand why they hurt me and why they are inventing horrible facts about me – for example that I am insane – some said they are doing that because they needed a scapegoat, others said they needed a saint, a pure person sacrificed to bear their sins. But I am telling again: I always was a human being needing to live among others with normal human rights, not to be continuously abused and to die for others’ sins. I had no sins at all, I really loved life and human beings. Why are they thinking evil about innocent virgins like I was, with so much books read and serious intentions my whole life, and good scholarship results, living in poverty and tortures my whole life? I always thought good things about others. I think that the normality is to consider the good in others, to accept the Not Guilty hypothesis when you judge someone else. And if they cannot judge like that (many philosophers or moralists said that no one can judge another human being) at least they ought to listen to religious ethical demands. If it were so, nothing wrong would have happened in my life, I would have been the happiest person in the world.
Politics has many levels of comprehension. One part of it is the political behavior of different individuals in a group (thinking, talking about, voting, manifesting, protesting, watching television political debates, etc.). I was a kind of victim of too much political talking around me when I was a child. My family was criticizing violently the ancient regime, on and on, sometimes quarreling about political issues, expressing their hatred towards the ex-communist leader Ceauşescu, a name that seems to be hated even nowadays in my country, after 23 years since that 1989 Revolution. Only my father was a member of the Communist Party, like so many were those times, for opportunistic goals. All those talks in my childhood made me hate politics not the regime, I became an apolitical child and this is how I remained my whole life. I am not ashamed to tell the truth about this, like others are not ashamed to say that they are atheists. So I will say again the truth that I was not guilty (from the religious point of view) of thinking evil about Ceauşescu and his family for example, although my family was the opposite and the people I met those days were alike my family. I was the rational type of child, I never hastened to draw conclusions without proofs. I don’t criticize the others, I really have no proofs that the entire society was like that and in politics it is normal to criticize the political leaders, who, in my childhood opinion, were only puppets suffering in order to maintain the social structures and beliefs, the social vibes. They are symbols, they come and fall according to the tides. See for example one of my older posts on this blog – Link.
This is the truth: I couldn’t play the political game in the society because of my education and family.
I already explained how much I suffered because of that false love of mine and sexual troubles in 1989. And how horribly my parent were treating me. This is why, unfortunately, I was taken up by high tides and went to those street manifestations on the 22th of December 1989. I will not explain in detail, I will say that even my only friend suggested me that, that I was tired after a sleepless night, that my body and mind were under heavy pressure. I suffered very much, one day and a night at that Revolution then. I got home and my father locked me in my room, he was very angry. My family said that they saw me on television, among other protesters there. Then I went with that friend again on the streets, donated blood in great quantity (I am an honorific blood donator), etc. Everything was upside down on the streets, it was a kind of social fever that lasted a few months. For a young delicate girl like I was it was hard. The result was that I got nothing for that fight of mine – while others, including one of my uncles and that teacher who tricked me to fall in love with him – became heroes or got financial or social praises because they went to the Revolution on 21st of December, not on 22nd. After that I was a witness of other social upheavals the following months, accidentally, not because I was curious. I was walking around cars in flames and agitated individuals, but my mind was busy with the painful emotions triggered by that man, who was acting then as if he still cared about me, still making false promises. I was only 19.
Then, after being so abusively diagnosed with schizophrenia I continued to hope in vain to gain normal rights and freedom. They did not take from my the right to vote and I exercised that right on election days, because I always was a kind of duty following woman, I believed that that was my duty as a citizen, although the others rejected me on and on. In the last 10 years I renounced voting. This means I became more sincere. But I always was very sincere. I watched the news only one period of time in my life, when I was immobilized in my bed after my suicide attempt. In January this year I renounced television and then radio, lacking financial resources, but anyway there was nothing interesting for me.
I also can say as a conclusion, following the introduction of this story, that when people were protesting against the government in my country last winter, my body and mind were under heavy pressures, I could barely do my daily routine, what means that no one is ever really completely isolated from the rest of breathing individuals, there are invisible links gathering everything in the same system.
If they were to give me freedom, maybe I would have started to vote again…
(Even the psychiatric patients were unkind towards me. They were striking me really hard, stealing my food or clothes (the agitated ones), they were laughing about me, insulting me and expressing their paranoid ideas in front of me – for example one of them said that I am stupid because I did not understand that I was destroyed for political reasons (?!), others were saying – “power shift means joy for fools”, etc. I can tell for sure I was not destroyed or tortured for political reasons.)
A French song about heroes and army…
and a song about love, injustice and imprisonment in times of war (ou il y a de la vie il y a de l’espoir)
Finally another song about condemning a 19 year old who was innocent:
I still have my memorabilia about the Revolution – in the photo below, on my desk, my dry red carnations I had that day with me (I gave flowers to the soldiers) and bullets I gathered then in order to remember that day, like Hansel and Gretel gathered bread crumbs to remember the road home. Sorry for the quality of the picture, this is my camera. The other photos are with my blood donation certificate.
I had many other memorabilia from those days, for example the first newspapers in a new world, but my family took them forcefully from me and I was sorry about that. I stood queueing on the street at minus 20 degrees Celsius to buy them that winter. But you know how the social system works – if a young person, even a child, tells the truth that her parents are taking her things or someone else is stealing them, then the poor child is psychiatrycally diagnosed, without understanding why…why this destiny of slave in tortures?