It was a long, long time ago.
We were all the same, but we were all different.
He hated women, all of them....mothers, sisters, lovers... but he liked me.
Peace was foreign to him and love was a four letter word only to be dropped in fits of rage.
Ironically, looking back, I realize 'I love you' was one of the first things he ever said to me.
But really, he loved his resentment.
He loved his anger.
He loved to push buttons.
And if he couldn't push yours, he would search for new buttons & push even harder.
He loved his rage.
He thought...
it was his gift and it gave him power....
it saved him from heart-ache...
it gave him a liberation most men would never know...
I thought he lied to himself...
I saw burden, a weight, a curse which only weakened...
I saw a lonesome, fragmented heart...
held hostage like most men would never know....
Then, I realized that by simply listening...
by trying to understand...
by continuing to support...
I wasn't helping him help himself ...
In fact, I too was being held hostage.
'I don't lie to myself. You just don't like what I say. If you don't like it, just walk on...like every other woman has in my life. Hell, even at two weeks, my own mom didn't even like me, I don't know why I expected anything else from you.'
So, I listened some more...
in agreement that I did not like what he said,
but more so...that I didn't believe it.
'Say what you mean & mean what you say.'
A lover of anger, a button pusher and a dependent
he belted out at me, over nothing, one morning...
'Why don't you just go? Just effing leave, like every other effing woman?'
'Say what you mean...'
'I hate you! Just effing go!'
Within ten minutes, I was out the door.
Never to return.
Years and years later...
we're all still the same, but we are all different.
(Artwork, of course by Sister Singleton...JustGiveMePeace)
Posts
7 years ago
5 comments:
oh, man, so much I could say... nothing worse than feeling hostage, while caught up in someone else's tornado... just waiting for wings...
Shimmerings...So good to see your spirited face! I met this fellow when I was maybe 19 or 2o & haven't seen him since my mid-late thirties... about ten years after I abruptly left. It was enjoyable, but I could tell that he still loved his anger & he could tell, I still loved my peace...
I know that you have weathered enough storms in your time to fondly appreciate a gentle rain shower, a windy night & the warm, sunny days...Much Love, My dear!
That's a shame. I wonder if this is something he must go through to learn a lesson. Some people don't realize the truth until it's almost too late.
Too bad he sucked you into his drama... but maybe it was a good thing if you learned something good from it. I'm so glad you were strong enough to walk away.
Sadly familiar....
Sadly.
*sigh*
They're very good at baiting us--and we're very good at compromising what's good for us in the name of 'helping' and 'listening'.....
Sadly, sadly familiar.
*HUGE hugs*
Someone once asked me 'victim or volunteer?'.....and that was a humbling moment when I had to answer 'volunteer'.
Anne...Lol, he really didn't suck me into his drama, of which he seemed to have quite a bit. Actually at that age in life, we all did, but some of us handled it differently than others. It was more like me standing to the side, looking from the outside in...and when I felt like I was getting swept away from my true self, I was lucky to recognize it, and just walk on.
Mel...You are very correct. Most often, we don't recognize what it happening until we reflect back on things, as would be the case with my marriage. Being a 'volunteer' is much better...it allows us to retain our own accountability for the choices we make.
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