Written January 21, 2015
Your blood boils. Your fists clench. You raise your voice. You say some not so nice things. You look at the other person and dare them to contradict you. They do. You storm out of the room. Doors slam.
And then you find yourself crying.
Mad tears, I call them. They stream down your face and make your nose run and you turn into a dramatic mess.
Well, at least that is what happens to me.
Man, oh man do I hate getting pissed off. Then I start to think about that. Why do I hate it? Why do I break down and start bawling my eyes out? Why does it bother me sooo much? Slowly, I realized that it isn’t anger that is creating all those mad tears, it is pain and hurt. It is an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness, helplessness, and impotence. Someone hurts me and I get angry that it happened.
How could they? How could they be so insensitive? How could they be so mean? How could they be so thoughtless? How could they be so inhuman? How can they not understand that they are hurting me? How can they not see the suffering and pain on my face? How can they devalue me so much that I don’t matter?
And why, oh why, do they keep doing it?
FUCKING ASSHOLES.
Wanna mess with me? Wanna hurt me? Wanna say ugly shit to me? Well, mother-fucker, I’ll show YOU. I am not someone to be messed with. Time to take the gloves off.
And then I start to cry.
I cry because I am hurting.
I cry because I feel betrayed.
I cry because I am misunderstood.
I cry because I never thought that person could be so cruel.
I cry because I want to whip their ass into oblivion, or just break their pinky, or say some something that will teach them to never hurt me again…and I can’t. I can’t do any of those things. I just have to sit and take it and JUST BE HURT.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I may not whip their ass or break their pinky – but I have been known to say some pretty harsh shit when I’m hurt and angry. And it makes me cry even more. And I feel horrible for the words that fly out of my mouth. And I apologize.
And suddenly I AM THE BAD GUY and they don’t end up apologizing for shit.
And guess what? That makes me angry too.
Where’s the “I’m sorry too….can you forgive me too?” But that shit doesn’t happen,
Fuckers.
I can rarely think of a time when I have been able to walk away from an argument with someone who matters to me. If I could give a shit less about you, I could give a shit less about any crap you have to say. But if I care? If I love you? That’s going to get ugly rapidly. Why? Because I don’t expect the people I love and care about to be assholes. Just saying. I mean, sure, we all make mistakes. We have all been known to take things too far. But when it happens over and over and over and over and over and over and over again? Well, that is when my mad tears come out and my hurt feelings get pushed down.
Sometimes I end up in my room, crying into a pillow, with what feels like the world crashing down on me. I can’t take it. I can’t take this pain. It hurts too much. Eventually I collect myself and move on. But I’m not better. I’m not healed. I haven’t forgiven even though I often forget.
It’s too hard to hold onto that shit. I mean, you really gotta work at holding onto a grudge. I just let it go. Mostly.
But the hurts stay. They pile up, one on top of the other. The reason for the hurts I forget, unless it’s a really, HOLY FUCK! kinda situation. And at the end of the day, the week, the month, the year, there is a pile of pain that squeezes my chest and keeps me from breathing.
I gotta a big pile of hurt labeled as “Mom,” another labeledĀ as”Ex-Boyfriend,” another labeled “Fear,” and yet another labeled “Regret”. I’ve got all kinds of piles of hurts and they are all piled on top of each other in a masterpiece of suffering.
How do you let that go? How do you forgive?
Forgiveness is supposed to be a choice, yet it is one that I can’t seem to make. It feels like there is just too much to forgive and I don’t know where to start.
Soooo, I am still getting my anger out. I think that has to happen first. Get rid of all the anger and mad tears so that you can then administer healing to the wound of pain.
Will there ever be an end to this? I dunno. But, I gotta keep trying. Somewhere under all those piles of hurt is peace.