The Irony [Guest Post]
The intended result has the opposite and very, very different result
Hello all,
Wherever you are, hope you are doing well. This is another post from one of our Protect the Parents readers. If you’d be interested in sharing your writing, with the possibility that it might resonate with others, or help others, please feel free to reach out. You can message me here on Substack or email me at an encrypted email: protecttheparents@proton.me.
I’ve always struggled to grasp the meaning of irony. When I listened to that 90’s jam, it seemed the singer was describing a series of events that was unfortunate— like 10,000 spoons when you need a knife.
Receiving this excellent piece of poetic prose from a reader, I felt at last I should spend some time to try to educate myself. Perhaps, like me, you’ve been confused about the full meaning and application of this oft used term.
irony, linguistic and literary device, in spoken or written form, in which real meaning is concealed or contradicted. That may be the result of the literal, ostensible meaning of words contradicting their actual meaning (verbal irony) or of a structural incongruity between what is expected and what occurs
1: the use of words to express something other than and especially the opposite of the literal meaning 2: incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result
a situation in which something which was intended to have a particular result has the opposite or a very different result: The irony (of it) is that the new tax system will burden those it was intended to help.
The Irony
The struggle in living with a person you don’t recognize
As you keep waiting for the one you married to return
He morphed into a character with varied masks; you have seen them all and cannot tell which mask he will wear
They come and go and you need to follow the rules that govern each.
You continue to live with this person because you were told: “it’s best for the kids”
To stay with someone you kept secrets for
So no one would know, or judge, or blame, or shame you
You let him hurt you with every guilt-induced and forced act of “love making;” you pretended it was fine, even enjoyable
Laying there afterwards, unable to sleep due to that deep festering ache,
Rising in the morning to care for your family, with a limp, because of the pain.
You let him make a show of helping you and letting you sit; so others could lean in and say with jealousy,
“You’re so lucky. He takes such good care of you.”
And you smile and nod and feel proud; that he’s being so nice to you and that they envy you for it
Or sometimes you frown and tell them that it’s an act
They look at you as if you are an ungrateful wife
So you keep on living with this person
Because without him you are no one; and he has his good moments
You tell yourself he’s trying; you remind yourself of his good qualities
Even though it’s getting harder to remember what they are
You remember you love him
Until one day, during one of his fits of rage,
Your baby screams with that heart-stopping cry; tears streaming down her face,
“We are not safe! We will never be safe!”
As he continues his tirade, your oldest, almost a man, but still a boy, your sweet boy,
Whispers angrily in your ear,
“Next time, I’m going to stop him.”
You finally wake up and leave him; you would have stayed forever for the kids
But now you leave him for the kids
The irony
in leaving to protect them
is that the system
won’t let you protect them.
It talks of “letting go” and relinquishing control
It talks of children needing fathers in their lives.
It ignores everything that came before even as it continues to happen
You do as they say
You follow their rules
And you pray that the violent person doesn’t surface while they’re with him
You hope he can keep the nice mask on
And the children return to you, with stories in their heads, of how you are hurting the family, and tell you to have forgiveness for him
You learn to manage his other faces: the controlling one, the jealous one, the entitled one, the stalking one
And wonder, even still, if the first mask you met will show again
And get mad at yourself for that hope
Because you know it wasn’t real
You remember that song — “Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think?”
And you remember the last line of the song,
“Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out…helping you out.”
You hope for life’s help