I went to bed crying, I woke up the same. There’s this look on my face I cannot hide. The one of deep sorrow for all the crap I did and blamed on everyone else. When so many voices spoke up, I remained deaf to them. I didn’t want to listen. They all said I was the common denominator to all the friendships and relationships I broke. I always thought I was the victim. But I was the aggressor.
I’m not carrying the blame for everything that went wrong in my life. But I’m admitting I did a lot of bad things, and people got hurt by my words or my behavior. The last straw happened when I physically hurt my best friend during an argument we had. I was intoxicated, she tried to calm me down, but all I did was take her friendship for granted and I spat on three years of friendship with a single blow. I hurt her, I broke her. She couldn’t believe I would ever lay a hand on her, because I sincerely loved her. How could I hurt the ones I loved the most?
I turned my back on another friend, who supported me during my separation from my ex-husband. She offered me support, shelter and she gave me her trust. And what did I do? I threw everything away. Again, I hurt someone I loved.
My half-brother had cancer. We didn’t speak since September 2008 because he didn’t show up at my wedding. I held grudges and didn’t speak with him since. I was hurt knowing I had one family member in NYC and we wouldn’t talk. We wouldn’t see each other. We wouldn’t share anything. Since the age of 17 I stopped talking to my half sister too. It’s been thirteen years.
Last but not least, I hurt my ex-husband to the point life together wasn’t tolerable anymore. I hurt him emotionally, and physically. Why did we fight so much? Because I couldn’t see past my anger. Once he shouted I was more in love with my anger than I was with him, and I didn’t believe him. But seeing now how many relationships have died because of my behavior, I admit he’s right.
I’ve always withdrawn myself from any confrontational situation. Once I said what I had to say, I give no chance to the other side to speak. I just walk away. I don’t give second chances. And then I dwell in my own sadness. I don’t face the facts. I pretend they never existed. I just remove all the memories and focus on changing everything in my life. New hair, new clothes, new look. I want to start fresh somewhere else, and then what? The same pattern repeats.
I never thought I would talk to my best friend ever again. I felt ashamed of what I did to her after everything she did for me. So I secluded myself. I lived in the dark. I intentionally changed my schedule to never run into her, and the two times I saw her, I ran away. I’m not a coward by nature. I just didn’t want to see her hatred. I didn’t want to see the damage I had done. I refused to acknowledge the truth. For me, the friendship was over. There was no turning back.
But then yesterday, someone rang my doorbell. I didn’t know who it could be. I didn’t respond the first time. Then the doorbell rang again. This time I opened the door, and there she stood.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
And all I replied was: yes.
She told me her version of the facts, and I told her mine. I didn’t realize I had become a beast. I didn’t see clear through my bullshit. I didn’t even ask for forgiveness. I just said I was sorry for all the hurt I had caused.
Then she added, she was worried about me. She urged me to talk to someone because she knew something was off with me. And so I promised her I would.
But the first thing I did after she left was to email my friend who I hadn’t talked to in over a year to apologize for my actions. And then I emailed my ex-husband and apologized too. Finally, I emailed my half brother.
I’m still crying typing these words because I feel all the pain of these people and it hurts me to think I have put them through so much crap because I was angry. Yes, I was in love with my anger. And the only solution I found not to deal with the consequences of my actions was to move, walk away and just become a more shallow individual because I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
The ultra-sensitive person I am has managed to block all emotions just because she doesn’t want to cause more harm. But does it really work?
Of course it doesn’t. I live for love. My parents see me as the little girl they raised, not the monster I’ve become. They don’t realize I’ve caused so much pain around me. I don’t want to be an asshole anymore.
So I will change. I knew there was a reason why God wanted me to stay in NYC. I must face the truth, just like my character Julie in my serial Death by Chocolate. Funny to think my character spoke on my behalf in a fictional story I started a few months ago. Writing held a certain power over my aching soul.
I promise to be a better person from now on. I don’t want people to suffer anymore.