The Wall of Jealousy & Deceit

 

mysterious brick wall

It is so easy for you to sit there in your house, near or far, and judge me and my circumstances.

You don’t call.

You don’t text.

You don’t write.

You know nothing about me, my family or what is happening in our lives. Yet, you think you can judge me and you think you know what’s best for me.

Why is that?

How can you possibly know what is best for me when you don’t speak with me? You barely make an effort to communicate, to ask me how I am doing, yet you think you know what I need.

On top of this, you advise others they are enabling me.

That makes no sense.

Furthermore, you have given others ultimatums. Advising them they cannot have a relationship with you AND me.

You can’t be serious. There must be some mistake because asking my family and friends to choose between you and me is asinine. On top of this, upon confrontation, you denied your actions.

Your pathetic attempt at deceit is embarrassing.

Telling people they are sitting on the fence and must choose a side.

You are building walls.  Barriers.  You are doing yourself and your family a disservice.

But, you are blind to it.

Sitting upon your high horse thinking you know of what you speak.

You couldn’t be further from the truth.

You are failing beyond measure.

You must be so jealous.

So insecure.

Forcing individuals to choose.

A weak hand instigates such nonsense.

The green eyed monster has a grip on you and your behaviour is embarrassing. I am embarrassed for you. I am ashamed of your behaviour. Such an epic failure. Very disappointing.

It has to be jealousy and insecurity.

There are people here who have relationships with my children. Who are close to me. Who I confide in. We support one another. It is not one sided. There is no enabling going on. It is called a reciprocal friendship. We are there for each other. They have active roles in my life that you don’t.

Oh…and you there, yes you. You are probably thinking this doesn’t apply to you. That it only applies to one person. That is not accurate. This may indeed apply to you. I have heard all of your judgement too. The comments whispered behind closed doors. Careful to ensure I don’t find out.

There are no secrets in this family.

The walls have ears.

I don’t take kindly to ultimatums. Hearing you are forcing others to turn their back on me. How childish. Such nonsense is usually restricted to the playground. You are an epic disappointment. I thought so highly of you. I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust you.

I was wrong.

Upon your return to reality, there will be no fanfare.  No door for you to walk in.  You have built this wall. You can figure out how to tear it down and rebuild the relationships you have squandered out of your jealousy, fear and insecurity.

 

 

© The Flip of the Switch, March 2016.

 

 

The Disillusion of Compassion

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How is it that we think we know someone, really know someone, but they turn out to be nothing you thought they were.

It is interesting that when one is going through a rough patch; a rocky road; a tumultuous time, that the people we think will support us, be there for us and comfort us are in fact, some of the biggest contributors to our stress.  They further perpetuate the feeling of instability and vulnerability.

I have someone in my life that fits this bill.

It makes me sad.  I am overwhelmed with grief.  It makes me feel physically ill.  I am disappointed.

This person increases my stress level, increases my anxiety, increases my panic and they make me angry.

Angry they just couldn’t be the person I thought they would be.  Disappointed they do not possess the character I thought they did.  Irate that they continue to put their head in the sand and pretend like nothing is wrong;  they are oblivious to my reality;  to their reality.

I am angry at myself for thinking they held such regal character;  for thinking they were compassionate, loving, caring, considerate and supportive.  How did I miss this?  Was it an illusion?  Did this person ever truly possess the character traits that I hold dearest to me?  That we value as a society?

I am truly fortunate to have a vast network of support.  My family and friends are everything to me.  They are always there; willing to help any way they can.  I am blessed.

But you.  You.  I am disappointed in you.  I expected you to be my pillar of strength.  My knight in shining armour.  My safety net.  My best friend.  You have let me down.  You are either a supporter or a stressor;  you cannot be both. And you.  You.  You are a stressor.  You have made your choice.

No matter what you do, whatever choices you make, I cannot control you.

Indeed, you are not the person I thought you were.  Thought you could be. Thought you would be. But there is nothing I can do about that.  I cannot change you.  I cannot mould you into something you are not.  You won’t change.  Even when I beg and cry for support.  Call out to you in an effort to lean on you; you are not there.

You are everywhere, yet nowhere.

The disillusion of compassion.

Compassion for oneself, compassion for others.

You do not possess compassion and I don’t know who I feel more sorry for;  me or you.

You.  I feel sorry for you.  For I am strong and I will fight my way through this.  I am important and I have goals to reach and dreams to catch.  But you.  What do you have?

Your relationships are in shambles.  Almost all of them.  You have family ties that are complicated, poisonous, bitter and full of heartache.  You care for no one, yet argue that you care for everyone.  You have tried to convince yourself for so long that you possess this illustrious character.  That you are a role model for others to emulate.

You are wrong.

Disillusion of self.

Disillusion of reality.

Yes, it is you I feel sorry for.

In the end, I will get through this.  I will prevail.

I live life with compassion, love, kindness and consideration.  I help others, try to ease any burden they are shouldering.  I care deeply about people’s happiness and well being, including my own.

I don’t need you.

I just need me.

 

© The Flip of the Switch, January 2016.