A burning match

I look at women in relationships, and I have wondered far too many times how in the hell she got to be so psycho?! We all know at least one female that all men refer to as bat shit crazy. OK fine and good.  How does that happen?  Is she born with it? I never thought in a million years I'd ever be that woman.  I'm usually very cool, calm and collected.  I've pride myself on never speaking out of anger, because I see what it does...and then you throw a little alcohol into the mix with an issue that hasn't quite been settled, and suddenly a psycho was born.  

My God! It was like I could see myself losing grip, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I flew off the handle.  I woke a man out of a dead sleep with the swing of my fist.  What the hell had gotten into me? What on earth had possessed me to not just participate in this raging shenanigan, but in another persons home, no doubt? Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  

There we were well past midnight, intoxicated, both confused, screaming obscenities at one another, yelling that we were done. Why? Because we didn't finish a card game? Because I didn't answer the phone when he was lost hours before? Because rather than fighting about it, he chose to go to bed? Stupidity is the only explanation. It was ridiculously stupid, and yet there we were.  

It wasn't until the effects of the nights binge wore off that I realized, it was my fault. I threw an adult temper tantrum. Now I will not accept full responsibility, but I did start it.  I finished it as well.  We looked like assholes, and the only explanation was me.  No one wants to admit their flaws or faults, least of all myself, but I didn't have a choice.  There it was glaring me right in the eye. Truth is, my worst flaw is that I keep score.  I am the friend everyone calls to piece together the evening when they can't remember.  I am the one who can remember the littlest details everyone else forgets.  I remember smells, what someone was wearing, the conversations that took place, everything.  It's proven not to serve very well.  There I stood, yelling at the man I love, and rather than discuss the issue currently at hand, I brought up every wrong thing he'd ever done, and some I just assumed. 

When someone hurts me, betrays me, etc, I don't let it go.  I forgive, but I never forget.  In essence, that isn't forgiveness at all.  It's as if I'm holding the cards until they serve my purpose, and for that I am extremely wrong.  When the argument had finished, and we had said our apologies, I had promised to tear up the score card and wipe the slate clean.  That's the only way we'll ever make it.  Forgiveness can't take place when you're still holding on to the past.  It's like holding a burning match. Eventually you either let it go, or it burns you.  

My dearest friend was there the evening of our sherades. She mediated, God love her.  She mentioned something that has been eating at me for 2 days now.  You're punishing him, because of what your ex did to you.  He broke you, and that's not this man's fault.  My God! She was right.  My ex tore me down, broke me to pieces, but that's not this man's fault.  If he could love me enough to come crawling back after hurting me, and trust me I made him grovel, then he should not pay for another's sins. I chose to love after my heart being broken.  He chose to love me despite my broken pieces and sharp edges. The past won't do anything but hurt us both.  I am not his ex.  He is not my ex. We are us. He wasn't the one who broke me.  I wasn't the one who broke him.  Our paths collided, and we chose to love again after destruction.  At the end of the day, we aren't really broken.  We're guarded.  We build walls around our hearts to protect us from pain.  We must be brave enough to tear them down. 

Up until the moment I flew into my psychotic rage, past mistakes continued to bother me.  It didn't matter that he'd apologized. I clearly did not accept it.  He made a mistake, a huge mistake and one that hurt me very deeply.  It damaged trust, and I in turn made a bold statement.  I gave an ultimatum, which generally isn't my style. He apologized. He promised it would never happen again, and then the first quarrel afterwards, there I was rubbing it in his face. Today, I can honestly admit, that even though I remember the incident, I am not holding the grudge.  I will put my faith in him again.  I will not continue punishing him for the events that hurt me in the past.  I pray I never fly off the handle like that again either. I have been 32 years without hitting another human, but I stained that record in a fit of rage. He laughed and said yep, you'll have to live with that one, honey. He's right. I will have to live with it, but I'm comforted knowing that it taught me a valuable lesson.  

"No amount of regret can mend the past.  No amount of anxiety can change the future.  All it does is destroy the present."   unknown

I can't say there won't be mistakes in the road ahead, but we will face them head on without the baggage of the past holding us down.  And...I'll probably never swing my fist again.