Monday, August 12, 2013

The Elephant

There are a lot of reasons I've stopped writing on this blog. Several in fact. Some practical, some lame. But if I'm being honest with myself, the main reason is.. it's been a bummer of a year or two. There has been laughter and fun and great stories and celebrations and life has been lived, but it's also been sad. And confusing. And sometimes I feel it's fake to gloss over the big stuff. There's an elephant in the room this blog and by not addressing it, I feel like a phony. Because there is so much I want to say, but can't. I often wonder how those bloggers - the ones with millions of followers - "sell out" (to some extent), their families and/or friends. It must feel so freeing to just truly write what your heart keeps silent or the way you really see the world or what is actually going on and NOT CARE what anyone thinks. Because in all reality, many people are probably experiencing what you are going through. There are universal life experiences after all. Universal hurts and joys. And sharing your personal story and journey and having validation must feel very rewarding at times. But what about the family member who didn't want that secret told? Who never asked for their sibling or uncle or mother to be a professional blogger and who feel betrayed? What about the friend who decides to open up to you only to find it looking back at them on their laptop a month later? What about the kids in their life who will eventually grow up and someday read those words that perhaps it was not necessary they know? And yet, those blogs or articles or essays are always the best to read. We relate to them. They touch us. They are real. Not snippets of a perfect life put on display. I can't say everything I would like to say. I do care more about what those I love may feel then in being 100% open. Unfortunately that means that I tend to take several steps back. Too many. I guess you could say, I hide. And for some reason, hiding makes me tired. It's exhausting actually. Constantly worrying about how what I write may make someone feel is draining. In real life, away from the keyboard, I can talk about anything. I'm a pretty open book. Maybe that's why the disparity between the two, real life and writing about real life, feels so gaping.

So here is the compromise... It's how I feel at this moment. Tonight.
It's honest.
It's from the heart.
It's The Elephant:


There is an eternal bubbling spring of cruelty and pain and grief and heartache that exists within some. An ability to hurt everyone around them and take things like love and hope and innocence and faith and crush it all. Again and again. These people can lie to others and often themselves with an ease I will never understand. They can live in a world where selfishness and greed reign over their decisions. For every 10 decisions made, 9 will be in their best interest. And for that 1 act of seemingly unselfish generosity, it will be glorified and held over others' heads as a beacon of how good they really are. Even though they may kick you and spit on you and go for the jugular just after. Of course they won't see it that way. They will only pat themselves on the back for their kind act, all the while taking pieces of the good within others and never returning them. Never regretting their actions.

Other than the obvious serial killer or pedophile, what makes a person a monster? Extreme greed? Selfishness? Utter indifference? Extreme narcissism? We all do things that hurt others at some point... Our spouse, our parents, a friend, a family member. But don't most people own up to it? Don't most say, "I'm sorry I was a jerk. It won't happen again, because I love you and I don't want you to feel the way I purposely or inadvertently made you feel". Maybe I am naive to think MOST people are that way. There is that other type of person, however, who apologizes for nothing. Who live in their own reality, oblivious or unwilling to see the ache going on in the people around them. When someone tries to say, "hey, this hurt me", they will respond with insult and violently lash out or maybe just turn their back completely.

But, the very worst thing about these people is, we keep loving them. We make excuses for them. We sympathize with their grievances. We view them as broken and therefore incapable of not being awful. Eventually, we try and cut off the pain and put up a barrier saying, "enough is enough" and we try to keep our hearts occupied elsewhere, but then we are hit with it again... Love. Followed by pain. We try again, even as the cruelty ensues. Love for this monster who takes and abuses and never clearly sees.

1 comment:

Christy said...

You're not alone. Just so you know. I could have written this blog myself. Hugs!

Another FAV!!

Loading...