When I really get down to brass tacks and think about wanting to start my journey away from The Friend and the resentment and anger I feel toward him, I always think of this blog.
This blog is a scandalous monument to the stupidity that was that relationship, and it’s so obvious now when I go back and read posts. I started this blog because I was skinny and cute and wanted to meet someone and I thought I was going to have fun and meet someone to spend my life with. But all the quest ever was about–all I ever wrote about–was the past with The Friend, the mistakes I made, and the times we were meeting up when we weren’t supposed to be.
I am embarrassed, terribly embarrassed, about my past mistakes. I am embarrassed that I continued to make them FOR YEARS, that they cost me my job, my life, my house, my friends. I mean this shit festered FOR YEARS and I even stood here time and again and ranted and raved about how wrong I knew it all was, how much he hurt me and hated me and made me hate myself. AND I STILL TRIED TO MAKE IT RIGHT.
I am an idiot. A fool. Stupid. Wrong. Desperate. Fucked up. I have issues. I have unresolved issues from childhood. I have unresolved issues from adulthood. They should take my adult card. I should have to relinquish decision making to someone else. I should be locked up. I am bad. I am mean. I am wrong. I am gross. I am ugly. I am disappointing. I am a burden. I am a failure.
This literally plays on loop in my head any time I have a quiet moment and I think about my anger and resentment. It has gone from anger and resentment for The Friend to anger and resentment for myself. It’s holding me back and it’s making me angry that I am so angry.
I am embarrassed. I really am. And it makes me defensive. I think defensiveness comes out in really different ways for a lot of people. My defensiveness is anger. It takes very little to upset me these days. “These days”=the last half of my twenties and the first years of my thirties, if I am honest. So if someone makes me feel silly or embarrassed or hurts my feelings? I am pretty angry about it. Depending on who you are, I might lash out. I might blocked you if it’s on social media. I might tell you off if I know you well enough. If I do know you well enough, I’ll say really ugly things. Things you can’t take back. And it bleeds from one person to the next. If I am mad at person A, then I go through a list, sometimes mentally, sometimes verbally, of people I am upset with, angry with, disappointed with, sorry I hurt but feigning anger about.
I have been unhealthy for a long time. And people have tried to point this out. So often someone here will remind me that drinking poison and expecting someone else to die is only killing me. Or that if I can somehow forgive this harm that I will free myself from the chains of sadness and anger that I have worn so long there are scars. My friends have told me that it’s unhealthy to carry the burden. My family reminds me that it doesn’t mean I am losing or lost the battle. Or that it was okay to hurt me like that.
But I don’t think I’ve ever believed those words. I often think about forgiveness and wonder what it would look like for me. Would it be saying I was at fault? Would it be saying it wasn’t so bad? That I deserved it? That it was okay?
And don’t I deserve to know why? The why is what keeps me awake. And people try to answer it for me. But anyone can come up with any explanation–blaming him or me (and I’ve heard both)–but it’s not from him and so I don’t know. I can rationally accept the excuses, but if it’s not from him. Meh. Whatever. But I may never get a why. Actually..I will never get a why. I know this. Because I’ve asked and there is no why. There is actually no acknowledgement that anything was wrong.
And I’ve said my angry part. And I know it was heard and it was actually acknowledged but it didn’t work. Because I am still angry.
So I decided that this year I want to explore forgiveness. What it can really mean in a life. And if it is possible. And how to forgive myself. I have decided maybe it isn’t bullshit after all–that you can free yourself by freeing someone else. That it doesn’t mean I am wrong or that I lost. But that I love myself.
I want to love myself again. Because that was a pretty sweet year of life, when I loved myself so deeply and was so proud of everything I did.
I realize this is a fairly self centered and indulgent post. But it is a self centered and indulgent blog as recognized by The Frisky. And I miss writing…even though I am not great at it. And nobody reads this thing anymore anyway. So.
I’m just gonna keep writing until I figure it out.