I am writing to you now to out you, to name you and shame you, for you have ruined me and ruined my world for a few precious moments of this cherished life; and so it is time to bring your distinctive darkness blinking back into the light and to stand up to you, squarely in the face, in the light of day, not in the shadows where you love to lurk and pounce, trapping me in the darkness of your wretched, dreaded deeds…
I let you possess me again, as I often allow, you familiar old fiend. Yet usually I am alone and so your poison runs darkly through me and spills out of me in anger and tearing tears, wiped away by me alone, until I can see the light again and recognise you for what you are – a familiar figure… When I see you, I see me, tormented and frustrated, for of course you are me too, a devil in my DNA, the insane side of my psyche, dressed elegantly and evilly in black, with wrinkled skin and dead or reddened eyes, stating the evil obvious, that this is who I really am – chilled and still, invisible to the world, rotten and forgotten.
None of this true is it, when I shine a bright light upon it? When I bring instead the beautiful incandescent truth of who I actually am, out into the open… You hate the open though don’t you Dear Devil, when you are discovered for what you are and your shadows are blasted away in the warming sun light…
Yet still sometimes you will show your face, and play me out in public too, just as I have named and shamed you… And this latest episode was your biggest victory yet wasn’t it, for I have clearly (according to you), been smiling in the sun for far too long..?
Yes, after a long period of peace and calm, you pushed my dark insides out, splattering clotted blood and gory guts all over my nice white world, and slashing and splashing my mess in an explosion of emotion, across someone on my path; a happening which still now, several days later, has rocked me to my core, and shocked my soul…
It all happened in the midst of a perfect and ordinary scenario, as the scene was all set for a ripe and gorgeous day, one in green pastures, far away from my own home doorstep. But it started dangerously instead with a gift, a part of myself that I gave to a friend, one that was not appreciated at that moment and then quietly repudiated and soon forgotten…
Many such conversations and interactions happen in the day to day ordinary, in the complex bank of activity and chatter of life; and I either let them pass or open them out for discussion… But not this time… Something said to me this time pushed a detonator in my heart and started a chain of evil explosions as one negative thought lit a match to another and another, and then even another, and soon I was a blazing barrel of gun powder…
Even so I kept a lid on it, I refused to spout and shout, and turned heat and tears into cold fury instead. So I put on a frozen face to my friend and said that I was leaving and then I ran, pretending I had a plan, and that I knew where I was going… But I didn’t, I stumbled blindly for hours and miles, crying quietly when no one could see me. I had made my mad decision and through stubbornness and circumstance, had no choice, either physically or mentally, but to act it out to a long and bitter conclusion; to get back to my own soft, silent sanctuary of home.
So much went wrong that day… you Dear Devil had such fun with me, throwing up obstacles to my journey home at just about every turn. And when finally I reached my own darling door step, it was barred to me and I sat on the step like a run away child, until some one finally, heard my calls for help and came, grumbling, to rescue the reprehensible me.
Inside my sanctuary and finally alone, allowed to keen and grieve, I counted my stupid losses – my sanity being one of the first names listed – etched out on the cold hard stone memorial commemoration of my long, horrible and horned day.
Why did this have to happen? I felt like I’d been put in a time machine and transported back to my hot headed twenties, when I would yell and blame and smash plates to release my latent demons. How long I have journeyed and travelled through knowledge and practice to change this reddened side of me, to be kind to myself and give that gift to others too? And yet here I was back to square one… Furious, empty handed, loveless, childless, single and now to boot, old and washed up.
My body has succumbed to time, given up because its’ womb has stayed empty; I’m now noticeably invisible or unattractive to men, as if they can smell the raging menopausal hormones and the rotten decay of my heart. So that’s it, I have given up on romance, on coupledom, on being part of an us and finally given in to letting go and never looking for anything beyond my suspiciously sniffing nose.
And we both know, don’t we Dear Devil, that you absolutely love my menopause… Yes – you ride bare back on my heated hormones, you revel in the sweating sleepless nights, and the angry waves of frustration and lost femininity.
Then too I remember that despite resting and taking good care of my self – inside and out, still I am ill and tired, plagued by headaches and exhaustion, with just the prospect of merely surviving, instead of really living, until that day when I die.
Whilst I have felt many horrible things in my life, I am shocked by the level of hate and loathing that I feel for myself, in these last few insane and scaly days. And what rocks me to the core even more is that I spewed all this over some one else too. Having been spattered by others with such blue gluey crap in my life, I thought I had learnt to deal with things differently, to expunge rather than to explode, and so I feel ashamed…
So back to now, and for days I have sat alone with the fall out pain of that evil explosion, deciding that time and tide will start to lessen its’ grip on my fast beating heart. I have rested, distracted and started to take firm steps to a future of mere occupation and survival.
And this explosive episode started with the unknowing and softly wielded weapons of words, but I cannot blame someone else’s words for my predicament, so I ask for forgiveness and gladly give it too.
Finally the anger at those first igniting words has given way to truth and tears. It was said. The sayer could not have known how I would allow them to hurt me, and the long historical complications of why they did so. They were simply conversational, and yet too they were a spell. So now it is now done and that is that.
Yes, it really is time now for forgiveness, for reconciliation of all the parts of me – devil and angel. And it is clearly time for change. What ever complex stew of emotions and demons poured out from me, they are flown, leaving me behind as a painful shell, pretending to be alright. But I’m not alright, I see that now! And knowing this and realising Dear Devil what your putrid outputs mean, actually means that now I have a choice…
I will stop masking my inner reality and living in a surviving ordinary. It is time to learn and to change. To take responsibility. To reach out. It is time to right and to write – always my greatest meaning, and my most gorgeous gift. To write and let go, to write and create a new reality that reaches beyond my heart and out into the world, where a desire bigger than my selfish self wants to touch and change and shine the light in other’s lives.
Next I shall give gratitude, I will write a long, detailed, gorgeously grateful list of all I have to be thankful for. This prolonged act of thanks is easy, and reminds me of who I am really am, what bounty I have, what the perfect possibilities and realities of my future are… It is a daily practice that I have forgotten for a while. I will now return to this perfect pattern of thanks.
Maybe it was time for this exploding friendship to end or to grow stronger? I don’t know yet, but I accept what is to come.
I ache because I have hurt so much and hurt others too, but this crazy episode has to have made a difference, otherwise it was all just empty anger and ridiculous rhetoric. Things will change now – I don’t even know how, yet I will trust the change and remember the dark time passed as a mere past memory, a passing place instead to greater glory. There can be no other option now.
And so, I let go of that dark part of me: Dear Devil – Good Bye.
Sandra Peachey (Miss)