People Suck

Why can’t people just be happy for her?

It was her third marriage. People kept reminding her and anyone else who would listen to their mouth flap. Yes, it was her third, not that the number counted toward or against anything, though for them it did. They used it as a quantifier in which to judge her, instead of as a fact. Yes, she had been married three times before. They didn’t want to know the rest of the story, only that at one point, she had two other husbands. 

The first one died tragically of cancer. It was painful for her. He was older, and of course they judged her on that too. Even then, they didn’t care that she was stable, happy, and loved. Only that he was so much older than she was. When he died she was alone in the loneliest of ways. Three children who could barely understand where their father had gone. People pretended to mourn with her, but they didn’t really care. They judged. As they always do. Thus, she pulled away as she always did when she sensed toxicity and resentment.

She tried to love again, but the toxicity of others brought someone into her life that was fueled by their toxicity. It turned him against her. He manipulated her, threatened her, convinced her to marry him or else he would say, but the else would change. He’d find her, he’d hurt her, he’d hurt the kids, he’d hurt himself. He was desperate, and it made her desperate. So she married him to protect herself and her children, besides she could handle it she thought, and of course they judged her for that too. For trying to love. For letting his threats get to her. For ultimately marring someone else betraying her first marriage like her late husband was still alive. 

Nothing she did was good enough for them, and as the poison of their presence in her life seeped in, she began to believe that she would never be good enough ever. They all would find reason to talk. 

After having enough, and deciding to ask for her worth and being refused, she left him. They judged her once again, but this time for leaving. She decided not to listen to it. She took her children and moved away. Started going to church. Started learning to love herself again. Her children felt more free to be creative. She felt more free to be creative. Finally, she was ready to love again, and she did. They got married and are happier than ever! Of course they judged her again. They still do. But this time she shut the door on their words and made a home of love and safety for her family. They live happily and functionally. She finally feels that kind of safety and love she once had felt. Yet, they still judge. Out of ignorance. Out of malice. Out of loving to hear their own voices. They say the children must be emotionally torn apart, as if she had never spoken to them or gotten their input about it prior. Like she was being selfish. Like she hadn’t sat on my couch for several hours pouring out her soul about how the kids would feel and if they would let her get married again. Because she needed their permission. Not that those who judged her knew, and not that they cared. They just wanted to pretend to have empathy. 

I was so angry to hear how many people so openly talked about her in front of me. So willingly thought that I’d agree with them. So openly shamed her. So I spoke up, knowing that I too Would be judged, merely asking if they knew all these accusations for certain. Asking if they were living her life for her and felt as if they could come along and have a say in it. Asking if they enjoyed talking about her more than talking to her. So they stopped speaking to me. 

Neither she nor I have felt loss at their absence. 

I’m just getting so sick and tired of ignorant people talking about things they know nothing about. Especially when it has nothing to do with their lives. She’s not a relative. Her life has zero impact on theirs. Why open your mouth at all? LET HER LIVE HER FREAKING LIFE WITHOUT BEING AN OBJECT OF YOUR JUDGMENT! But, of course, we all judge. It’s our nature to want to. To gauge our lives against the lives of others and assure ourselves that we are doing the right thing. As if there is even a definition for that. I do it too. I catch myself being that person all the time, and realizing that I’ve got my own problems too. People ignore the fact that life is messy because people are messy, and a mess is a mess no matter how big or small it seems to be. 

If it isn’t your mess, just don’t worry about it. 

Wine

“He’s getting married Friday.”  I poured myself another glass of wine and she stared sadly into hers.  “Wait. Didn’t he just meet this girl on Halloween?”  “Yes.”  “When did he get engaged?” “Christmas Day.”  “How does your daughter feel about … Continue reading

Loving the Toxic and a Personal Failure 

If only I could disappear. 
I happened to have vented near the wrong person yesterday. Nothing I thought was a big deal, but of course it was about a friend of mine and the facts were left out and things got tainted in the retelling. So word got back to her, and she was pretty upset. When I found out I called her immediately and let her yell her feelings at me for a while. She had a right to be angry. I had a moment of disapproval that I shot off to someone who had no right to know it. I told her I was sorry and she was right. I took responsibility for my actions. 

I spent a good long time afterward on the phone with my boyfriend. He listened, like a Saint. Assured me I did all I could. Reminded me I was not a bad person, I just slipped up for a moment and it got out of control. My mother told me the same when I called her. Told me I wasn’t an aweful human being, even though my heart told me I was worthless. I wounded a hurting person. In turn I wounded myself. 

I felt terrible…feel terrible. Of all the people to hurt in the world, I hurt the one who’s wounds run deepest. Who’s morals were shaky. Who’s mind was easily swayed by the emotions of how something is presented, and not the actual words of what is said. In turn she decided to tell me everything that’s wrong with me. How I’m “cocky” (confident) and how I’m “judgmental” (ironic how one has to be judging in order to say someone is judging them). I told her that I’d consider those views thoughtfully. Perhaps she was right? Perhaps she was just too hurt to think and evaluate clearly. All I knew was she had thought those things of me, and probably talked to people about me behind my back. All the accusations she has made to me, I knew she herself had committed. I said nothing though. What would saying something have done to help? What would it justify? It wouldn’t. I remained silent. I silently forgave her. 

Part of me feels the trust is too far gone from our friendship for her criticisms to bother me too much. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever trusted her. She fears depth. She is gossipy. Her lifestyle is different than mine. She isn’t going to understand how I live. I know I don’t understand how she does. I don’t have her struggles and I don’t have her desires and emotions. I can’t know her fully. So yes, I disapprove of her lifestyle out of a combination of ignorance and having watched her choices destroy herself. If that bothers her, only she can choose if she wants me to stay in her life. In turn only I can choose to have her stay in mine. I care very much for her, but perhaps she will always choose what is toxic over what is right. In turn I have to decide what place that puts me in, and if I can live with her making those choices. 
Can I love someone who is toxic nearby? Or do I choose to love her from a distance? 

I still feel very badly about it. It’s unresolved and broken. Part of my faith in God leads me to believe that I am responsible to Him for how I made her feel. I’ve asked to be forgiven. I’ve asked for her heart to be healed. I’ve asked for mine to be healed, because heaven knows that I struggle to forgive myself for things. I failed, but I cannot sit and dwell on my failure. I’m trying to move forward. 
Pray for me. 

Friendships

Today, I found myself angry about something. So raring angry that I felt the need to call an understanding friend, and talk to her about the thing that made me angry. When I called I began it casually, and asked … Continue reading