This has happened one too many times – putting up with mean, hurtful words from someone I love but I have come to thoroughly dislike. It’s hard to keep up with that; it’s hard to keep finding ways to get over it, move forward.
The words weren’t at me but at a loved one. It still hurts. Those words weren’t just hurtful – they were designed to maim, shred, rip apart. You were probably successful this time. The bonds of blood are shredded, ripped apart and mending those bonds are highly unlikely.
I fear your toxic words. I fear how much of that is truly in your heart, if you even have one. How did things get to this point? Why is it happening?
My heart is so tired; tired of trying to put the nastiness aside. It’s tired of finding some excuse to tolerate certain behaviors and unacceptable words just to keep you in my life because you’re important to me.
I’m at a crossroads. I have to make some choices and I’ve never been good with choices. Life has been getting harder and harder as I grow older and I don’t like it. What happened to certain simplicities of childhood? of youth? Where does that innocence of being ignorant of particular family politics go?
There’s a pain that has shown up and something must be done. When the pain sets in, you don’t leave your hand on the burning stove right? If some action has caused you pain, you don’t keep doing it right? Something must be done.
The question is what? What can be done? My choices are limited and none of them are any I like but what else can I do? I can choose one path but that will likely mean more hurtful words; having to tolerate unethical behavior that makes me want to retch. Does tolerating that much unethical behavior make me unethical? I don’t know.
My other choice I like even less, but is likely the one I go with and is likely to be the better one in a manner of speaking. If I speak up for myself and my loved one, there is much to lose, but even when I wasn’t speaking up, I was already losing. It’s a no win situation – the worst kind. Through all the years, the fighting, the horrible words… I never thought it would come to this. I was unprepared despite all the signs.
The question is if I can live with myself at the end of it. Can I be “okay” with my choice? Will I have to suffer the consequences over and over again? As in the movie, “Hope Floats,” will hope eventually float to the top? Can I live with what I’m going to lose out on? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to even follow through on what I feel is likely the only choice.
It’s time to hit my knees and pray… pray for forgiveness from some; pray for strength to do what I think I must and pray that it will all workout somehow. My heart is tired. It’s tired of fighting, of defending, of tolerating.