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The Devil’s Advocate

There’s a part of me that I hate. I realize that’s not objectively good but I think these feelings are helpful.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I project them on to other people so I don’t have to deal with them internally. I see people being ungrateful and it makes me enraged. The second I believe someone is sneaking behind my back, my blood boils. I get stuck in a shitty mood sometimes. This is all behavior I remember so vividly from my old relationship. And yet, I’m not in it anymore and haven’t been for two years, but still… I know this feeling and I can’t understand why I feel it again. Without the pressure of my ex, without his judgement, or nagging, I still have that feeling of drudging through life. It didn’t just magically disappear after my break-up.

So I’m left to wonder what my anger is rooted in. Today my mom was drinking from my grandpa’s cup. That’s right… his cup. He made the decision to interrupt our conversation to tell her that she was drinking from his cup which swiftly ignited all the rage in my body. I snipped back at him sarcastically, that she would never in the future forget that it was his cup. As I sit writing this, I can still summon the demon who delivered that sharp and targeted response. She pierces with her eyes and hisses through her teeth. Heat radiates from her scales and her wicked stare would scare a child to death. With nothing but bad intentions, she’s the epitome of evil. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Now, the question I gotta ask myself is… who is she trying to protect?

Well my mom… but really this side of my mom that is vulnerable (a reflection of myself to me). This innocent and gentle soul who was simply using a cup from the cabinet. Why did he (my immature ego aka grandpa) have to assert his ownership of a cup? My assumption is he needed attention for the moment. He needed to know that we were aware of him and things that belong to him. Its a standard case of needing to be in control.

Grandpa is dying, so I should be compassionate, but frankly, I don’t give a fuck about his feelings. He’s bitter and makes life Hell for everyone else because he hates this part of life because he can’t be in control of it like he always got permission to be. He’s having an end-of-life hissy fit and, while I’m sure this is me projecting, I still know it to be true in him, too. I’ve fallen into the same habit of walking on eggshells like my mom and grandma and trying to make life simple for him because he’s dying.

So are all of us! But how do I stop it? I can’t exactly move out anytime soon. I don’t have money saved and I’m not necessarily trying to take control over my situation either. I’d love nothing more than to throw an absolute tank of a grenade into his daily life to disrupt it. I don’t believe he is worthy of being so comfortable most of the time because he makes everyone else’s life revolve around him. He isn’t capable of taking care of himself in any capacity and never has been.

I think alot of these thoughts are really here to hammer in the fact that I have to be aware of the times when I’m only concerned with myself. I have to deal with this ego external to me until I love it. That’s the part that makes me want to punch the ground. I absolutely loathe that part of me that needs to be noticed and cared for. I wish it didn’t exist. But why? How can I love myself completely if there are parts of me I hate? How can I reconcile that if its not even up to me how others behave? I’m supposed to just choose a mind set and stick with it, aren’t I? I’m to change others by changing myself. I have to talk to that remanence of my ex the way I should have when he began mistreating me. That is the only way to heal this deep wound and be a different person than the one in those memories. Instead of his sparring partner, I have to be the Devil’s advocate.

God damnit.



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