wrath [noun]
1. intense anger (usually on an epic scale)
2. belligerence aroused by a real or supposed wrong (personified as one of the deadly sins)
I knew Wrath would come about when it was supposed to. Pride and Vanity fell right out of my fingers (mouth) and Lust, we’re well acquainted – but Wrath, oh Wrath.
We tend to pretend the other doesn’t exist because even thought we’ve been codependent several times, we hate the other’s being. Which is ironic, when you really think of the fact that I’ve hurt lots of people and most of those hurts have been intentional, as a reciprocation for them hurting me. I’m that one who gets wounded and attempts to stab back twice as deeply.
That’s not to say that I don’t always apologize in some way, at some time (sometimes even a mere 30 seconds later) – but you can only be sorry so many times before you’re just an dickhead, right?
I’ve been one with furor over the years. Violence is second nature – hell, it was beaten into me – but hasn’t actually raised it’s fist that often. A few times with JDawg and only once with the Rockstar ex did I see red and lash out. They didn’t see me coming – with the RSE, I didn’t see me coming – and it meant a deep seated shock and lack of trust for both of them. Understandable. I wouldn’t trust some chick who just loses her shit after warning me to shut the fuck up (or something similar) and then backhands me with her engagement ring when I don’t. I would always wonder how securely that shit got put back together afterwards.
But physical violence? Even though I understand it so much better, it’s never been my preference. Nope, I have always preferred to take the high road and potentially drive someone to such self-loathing, they considered themself a waste of space in the universe. Yes. I. Am. That. Cruel.
Anyways, currently Wrath and I are not only giving each other the silent treatment, I’ve filed in Interim Restraining Order against it. I want Wrath nowhere near me. I want Wrath to be so non-relative to my life and choices that I’m repeating self-made mantras, “I will not feel guilty, this is the right thing, I am taking our lives in our hands.”
The meaning got lost in translation, there.
The point is that for every hour awake since Friday morning, I’ve had to check myself. I’ve had to ask, “what am I doing and why? Is it to get even? And what for, my wounded pride? Bank account? Lack of empty wine bottles cluttering my apartment?”
I’ve had to rethink and reassess and ask five other people their opinions because I know that they will tell me the truth about what I am thinking. Yes, that sounds weird, but I do know quite a few people very intimately – I feel as though when I’m pondering something and say it out loud, they can guess my next thought process because they’ve known me for so long/so well.
Worse is the thought that I could make a move and it’s vengeance-induced and someone would pat me on the back, assuming that I am merely continuing forward with trying to give Isobel the right thing. Life. Self-esteem. Childhood. Relationships with other people. Memories. Home. Stability. Love. Gratification. Honour. Respect. Humility. Generousity. Perspective. Innocence. Intimacy. Trust. Value.
And then sometimes, I don’t have to check myself because I read a list of all of the things I want for her out of this situation and the action I’m causing and don’t see once the following words: money, pride, prejudice, anger, regret, retribution, detachment, hopelessness.
So, though today was a harder day than yesterday, and tomorrow might even be harder (a cold is rearing it’s ugly head) and all of the days ahead of that might even be harder still – I might never again feel as positive as I did two days ago and I might spend the next however long it takes to find predictability to life again thinking, ‘what if?’ – I know I’m not full of Wrath.
Cuz if I was? That asshat would be crying right now and so would his mother.*
* hey, I never said I was over it or the things they said or did. In fact, if I was that mature, I’d likely never have anything to write about on ye olde blogge.
