Not with a bang, but with a whimper
The scars that have always made the most lasting impression upon me have ever been the ones I've given others, returned threefold, tenfold, a hundredfold to me in the matching process of self-flagellation. I would make a damn fine Catholic--it's always in my nature to immediately blame myself for sins, either real or imagined.
The boyfriends whose hearts I've broken, the friends I've let down, the sharp words said in a moment of red fury--though I've never laid a hand on another human being in anger; my tongue is razor-sharp and spits acid when provoked. I suppose it does not help that I have an uncanny gift for knowing people, as I instinctively know where the emotional jugular is, and can zero in on it with brutal efficiency.
Despite all this, whatever scars I have, both physical and emotional, have faded well over the years. Some have disappeared, and even those still clinging both to body and soul, are so faint as to almost be invisible. Sure, I have my knee-jerk reactions to certain matters, my dislikes, my hatreds; but even those are more who I am rather than the scars laid on top of the heart. I have always been, if nothing else, amazingly resilient and ever-optimistic. It is remarkable, really, my capacity to forgive, even when someone has betrayed my trust in the most cruel of ways. Remarkable, I've been told, my ability to bounce back and to still see the good in others. For, you see, I've always been able to see the lightness in people, but understand why they might occasionally give into the dark--I see it in myself. How can I judge a one when I don't know that in a similar situation, I might not do the same thing? And so, forgiveness has always been relatively easy for me.
Except when it comes to myself.
Simply put, if I am not perfect in my emotional dealings with others, then I find fault with myself. I blame. Ridiculous, no? But true. We all know the old saying, "No one is perfect." And yet when I transgress...oh yes, I'd have made a damn fine Catholic. For as forgiving as I am with others, I am absolutely not forgiving with myself. And though I may not admit to an emotional crime, you can be sure I will continue to punish myself for it, inwardly, long after you have forgotten about it.
And here, this is hard to admit to you, mostly unknowns, to reveal a sin that is eating me alive.
My recent crime? My ongoing crime?
My relationship, despite how much we love one another, has been cast upon the rocks. The weather has been stormy for a while, and we crashed upon the jagged crags about a week ago. Before the storm, it had been flat and gray and windless--perfect conditions for a storm, and as a girl who grew up in the country, you would have thought I'd have seen it coming. I suppose a part of me did. So, I've been unhappy for a long time. Miserable, one might even say, and no indication that help would be arriving from the other end of the ship. And so, just before we hit the rocks, I cast out a may day to another, and in that act of reaching out, I said some things I should not have said, drew closer than I should have, crossed an invisible line I never should have crossed. Whether or not I was able to not cross it is beside the point. I crossed it. Not physically, nor would I. But emotionally. Even so, does it matter?
My partner versus myself. A sin of inaction versus a sin of action. He stopped doing the things he said he always would, so I did a thing I said I never would. And here we are.
Things are slowly getting better. We both agreed neither one of us wanted to throw in the towel. He did not blame me, nor did he yell. He took part of the blame himself, and understood. Neither of us blamed the other. For the first time in forever, we just talked about it, simply, honestly, soul-baringly honestly. I do not know what the future will hold for us, but I do know that for now, we're trying. I'm fighting. And he is making up his own mind in his own way. He does not blame me, nor I him.
But will I blame myself? Will I lay the mental whip alongside my bones and flay myself alive? Oh, you betcha.
I think the scars are going to cut deep and remain, this time around.
On this page, I write my last confession
Read it well, when I at last am sleeping...
This entry was, obviously, written for LJ Idol. If you liked it, feel free to vote for me here. I'm in the second poll. And take the time to read the others, as well. Some amazing stuff in there.