My Selfish Self

Chapter Eight

       I’ve only cried but one other time since that day, and that was when the hatred of me had reached the last being I’d been so sure of, would never believe the things said about me.  
       To see those who I thought would have pause at least to reconsider. Had not even blinked and or had needed encouragement before they turned up. Everyone knowing why I had been so easy to hate…except me. Nobody even had told me why?  or come to me with questions or confirmations. 
       No one, no warning, only silence. The hurt enmeshed like a thickened ball of hot sludge that had been wedged into the center of my ribs and the toxins that were emitting from the stoppage were vapors peppered with anger over the unjust feeling of shame of how I must look to them racing through my mind.  This was the very moment I’d been waiting for, yes you read correctly.
       You see, I’m a grateful person and happy to have had the life I’ve had.  Every single hardship that I had to face alone, every hurdle I tripped over and picked myself up from, are the very facets that I also considered as my blessings.  When I’m backed into a corner, when I feel at my lowest, when all odds are against me, that’s when I feel that euphoria of my plight.  I draw strength from my own personal pain.  I suppose it’s why I’ve always seen so much beauty within the saddest of hearts, because that’s when people’s truth comes to light.   Some I’ve seen laugh-cry, while others get stark raving mad, there are those who will cry when angry, or sleep and rest their worn-out hearts.
       There are those, like me that draw their second wind from the same expression used to bring them down with.  There have been those who had not been successful in their gallant quests giving everything they had, until they too had been taken over by the devastation.   Then there are the ones who huddle in packs, growling and frothing from their mouths.  They lack heart and only feel strength through validation, deceitful maneuvers, conniving trickery, foolish ideas and hurtful manners.
Every day for 6 months now I’ve had some sort of loss, upset, judgment and forfeiture on my name, I’ve walked away from those who’d meant the world to me, I’ve risked judgment due to my disinclination to yield. I’ve felt as though I’ve been throwing wild punches in the dark. I’ve stood my ground in something I had believed in from the start and I’ve defended myself without needing to lie, cheat or steal on anyone’s name or needing to be deceitful to seek shelter from the storms.
      These are the things that let me know who I am. They also give me insight to who they are as well.
      My hope is that I’m able to pass some of the qualities of honor and strength on to my nieces and nephews so they can continue to lead using their own choices and not having to feel the intimidation that comes with sometimes having to walk alone.
It’s been about a month now, since I’ve been enlightened and when this all unfolded. It’s been almost daily that someone’s criticism and messages that laced with acid, make their way to lay at my feet. Slanderous remarks that are pointed like a knife and aimed directly for the heart. It looks as if they are actors from a play or movie, the people being family members and are in the wing, eagerly waiting for their cue, with their scripts memorized, a relaxed smugness and tickets to sell their skills to the crowds. The best seats in the house being reserved for them. I’ve even come to find out that I have an aunt, who I’d always thought I’d been in likeness to is in the credits.  An aunt who plays coy and aloof about her involvement with the whole sorted mess.  I love her spirit; it gives her joy, so I’m happy to play the role to appease her. Have you ever felt loudly ignored, I have? It’s not as exciting as it sounds.  It’s had its moments though, like retelling of that joke “who's on first” except not as funny. 
       I’ve had family members that had asked me if I could procure illegal items for them , once being told no, it would seem that  I’m no longer of value and away they had skip merrily along to join the latest campfire tales with the masses. Tales about how I will receive damnation and destruction due to jealousy of my sibling. The fear of my discovering what is in store for me next. Its as though I was only thought of as something to hang your responsibilities on. I feel as if I were a coat rack of the discarded. For 6 years I’d been my sister’s living coat rack.  
      The expectation that we sit and collect dust waiting anxiously for her return. Only to realize that the repairs, the rips and the ruptures had been mended and the buttons back in their proper place.  It’s all shiny and new and how beautiful it looks now. The plan of walking in to say thanks and I’ll just be taking my items now and be gone, is very much the intended execution. To be nothing more than a tailor that mends up my sister’s life, hands it back neatly pressed is not how I intend to live.
       I’m expected to completely remain still as if I were an inanimate object, any step forward, put to a vote and formulated to decide what will or won’t work for anyone else. Forgetting that my life is my own and not up   for discussion. To decide for me and my personal aspirations is something I should have a right to without the threat of either, I fall in line or be thrown out.
I’ve had every single conversation recorded by them, as if I’ve done something illegal, then it’s passed around to be heard by all to confirm the obvious results.
      The attitude and lack of patience in my voice for the injuries that have been caused. I’ve listened as they hurtled around my mom’s computer while detailing how to track people down using social media, using my aunts account to gain access to the members they don’t have privileges to. My sister has marched into my home without having any warning or invitation and in front of company and the kids, no thought given of scaring them.  Just to belittle and make demands of me. My words have been twisted and mangled to an almost unrecognizable state.
      I’m described as something devoid of humanity or feelings.  I’ve had conversations with people whose words have just been unbridled insults, bringing spectators along, that fawn over them, completely agreeable that nothing of the sort had transpired. Those things are minor in comparison to that of the children’s experience.
     One of the children’s night terrors have returned, dreams of their lives in danger, that ends with a child downstairs in the middle of the night falling asleep on the couch, while holding out for as long as possible in order to man the door, hoping to keep everyone safe.  Hateful laughter as they pass you by. The jokes on social media and condescending questions pertaining to my mental health made the lineup as well. All done as a punishment in hopes that shaming me will have me rethinking my decisions.  Great effort and time spent, to try and break my spirit or presume to weaken me and till I cry out in   defeat. This is how I’m shown that I’m toxic.  This parade of antics all designed to illustrate MY lack of good judgement and character.