I still feel philosophically orphaned.
It hit me hard that not everyone has good inside. For some people, their “good” is nothing more than surface-level manipulation and inside they’re … empty.
While I can logically understand that this is the world we live in, my heart still struggles to accept that some people are broken — real people, not fictional villains. Not criminals either, but people who go to the grocery store and stand in line with the rest of us (though they do have a disproportionately high occurrence of “I want to speak to the manager”). That part that feels, cares, and makes us human, is missing inside of them.
And they aren’t even rich megalomaniacs who built their fortune on illegal deals. Some of them are surprisingly mediocre, because they think the world should hand them everything without any effort on their part, like someone is going to walk up to them and say, “You’re special. Have a million dollars.” Ha. Yeah right.
Maybe it was part idealism and part coping mechanism, but I really did want to believe that everyone had a point where they cared. A point where they would pause and say, “I should stop hurting others.”
In the postmortem I regret reading marriage advice books and blogs. They painted a picture that kept me trapped and unprepared. They perpetuated the message that if I kept doing more more more then one day he’d be happy. But no matter what, it can always be twisted into “criticism” or “passive aggressive” or “stone walling” or or or, and absolutely nothing will ever be right. There was no such thing as enough respect, enough simpering, enough accommodation. He was never going to be happy.
You cannot understand and accept someone into becoming a better person.
For some of them, your pain and suffering is the point, not a byproduct.
By Autumn Rain 