I make my ham and cheese sandwiches with mayo.
I listen to Less Than Jake and Bad Religion. I can name the make and model of most mid-priced hatchbacks. I can kick anyone's ass at Tiger Woods Golf despite never having owned a copy. I can go to work on under three hour of sleep. I'm a beer snob. I understand the political events that led up to the Second World War. I drink Kopparberg Pear Cider. I know the rules of cricket. I make mean chicken fajitas. I got my lip pierced. I can find my way around Brighton. I know what the clutch pedal is for. I can mix mojitos. I know that the trick to curing a hangover headache is to get up for a couple of hours and then go back to bed. I can cook scrambled eggs. I understand why people willingly go to war. I passed my degree. I have the name I always wanted.
I make my ham and cheese sandwiches with mayo.
I don't give them enough credit, the men who've had an effect on me. I took at least something away from every single one even if they don't know it. The ex Mr. TheOdd more than any of them, he makes up most of that list, and yet I never say it. I find myself not allowed.
I have friends who in their fierce protection of me won't hear a good word said about him. They're the ones who never really knew him, anyone who did nods along with my mantra of "awesome guy, great friend, rubbish boyfriend" because it's true. They loved him, spent years hanging out with us, they were the ones awake with us at 3am laughing and debating. They attended classes with him, knew us as friends and still ask me how he is. Because we were so close it's unimaginable to those who knew us that we would no longer speak.
It's true; I've been angry with him. I was angry about the way he treated me and anyone could see that part of that anger was really for me. Anger at being a doormat, anger at turning into the girl I said I wouldn't, anger at cowing down, being meek, willingly losing myself. That anger's gone now, I have myself back, and all I really want is to celebrate the woman I am today, giving credit where it's due to those who have influenced me. But some of those closest to me won't even allow me to say his name, they demand that I refer to him as "the ex" or "the weasel" or they go off into hyperbolic ranting that I know is only meant to make me laugh but still leaves me feeling uneasy. I can't tell them to stop, they're only showing they love me and, if I'm honest, when I try I either get reprimanded for going soft and giving in to him (because evidently he is aware of how I refer to him in conversation) or corrected, made to feel guilty for having good feeling towards him at all. Even when I explain. They are angry with him, still, so that I don't have to be and I love them for that.
Even so, there is something to be said and so I'll say it here because I am able to. Because nobody is going to stop me.
Thank you, Adam. For everything. I honestly believe I'm a better person because of you.
a realisation
at 11:27
Monday 14 April 2008
Labels: introspection
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6 comments:
Every seashell that washes up on our shores, even if we call it a dud and throw it back into the sea, teaches us something about ourselves. There's no shame in admitting that, even for the ones that contained a crab that bit the shit out of your finger.
And you better know about the political events that led to WWII. Sheesh.
Mayo grosses me out.
I'm glad the hurt and anger are going away, you can see better this way, even if what you're looking at isn't always pretty.
We all have one of those, I think... and regardless of how much our friends can never understand how we can "defend" them or "go soft" on what they did to us. But, at some point you have to let it go because it couldn't have been ALL bad. Thank you for helping me realize that I can recognize the good along with all the bad without it having to be some case of "battered women's syndrome" or whatever variation my bests come up with.
Manda: I stopped learning history at age 13. I'm woefully ignorant something I try and correct on a daily basis. The ex Mr TheOdd knew this and so we spent many evenings in local pubs pretending salt shakers and beer glasses were invading forces.
GWCH: Exactly my sentiments. You can't stay bitter forever, it starts to get to you.
Who'sthatgirl: You're welcome :) It took me a loooong time to come to this state of affairs. But yes, there had to be a reason you loved them in the first place, sometimes that just gets obscured by all the cathartic ranting.
Came across your blog via some recommendation list on Google Reader. :)
This post feels like you're echoing exactly what I've been thinking for awhile. Here's to living better lives without poisonous baggage. :)
saira: Woah, google recognises my existance? That's kind of freaky.
And yes, here's to a life without emotional toxicity. Cheers!
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