Beauty Breathes, Day Thirteen: The Split
I'm just going to be honest here, because I don't have any energy left for artifice. Today was a really rough day. One of those headache-inducers. One of those eye-opening, “oh, shit” sort of days when you realize what you're really up against. One of those days where the walls of illusory protection and “let's pretend” crumble, and you're left just standing there in the rubble with no idea at all what to do next.
Oh, and also: I am seething with resentment. It's very hard to admit that I am seething with resentment. I don't think of myself as that sort of person. I don't think that a person who is consciously seeking to expand beauty and compassion in their lives on a daily basis should be same person who is consumed with envy and a certain level of righteous ill will towards those who don't deserve it. But this is the truth. I'm both people at the same time. All of it is within me—the virulence, the spite, and the longing and the seeing. The hurt and the raw sense of injustice, and the looking, the looking; the willingness to see. It's all there, and while I am uncomfortable with the parts I don't like, I can hold both in compassion. I can see beauty in the deeper message of my resentment: I want acknowledgment. I am unwilling to accept that I am nothing. I want to protect what I have worked so hard to build; what I have found to be worthy and meaningful. I have fought very hard for the smallest things in my life, and I want someone to say, “Yes, you have fought very hard for the smallest things in your life.”
Today I talked with a good friend. I admitted the lowest, most nasty and unbecoming parts of myself, and she radiated compassion, warmth and support. Driving home, the sunset was a blurry, brilliant red. I was too tired to be mad at traffic. My mother called, and we talked about cats. I have been home for an hour and haven't hugged my husband yet, so I am signing off to go do so.
Photo: "Discarded" by Irene Smith
--Kristen McHenry
Oh, and also: I am seething with resentment. It's very hard to admit that I am seething with resentment. I don't think of myself as that sort of person. I don't think that a person who is consciously seeking to expand beauty and compassion in their lives on a daily basis should be same person who is consumed with envy and a certain level of righteous ill will towards those who don't deserve it. But this is the truth. I'm both people at the same time. All of it is within me—the virulence, the spite, and the longing and the seeing. The hurt and the raw sense of injustice, and the looking, the looking; the willingness to see. It's all there, and while I am uncomfortable with the parts I don't like, I can hold both in compassion. I can see beauty in the deeper message of my resentment: I want acknowledgment. I am unwilling to accept that I am nothing. I want to protect what I have worked so hard to build; what I have found to be worthy and meaningful. I have fought very hard for the smallest things in my life, and I want someone to say, “Yes, you have fought very hard for the smallest things in your life.”
Today I talked with a good friend. I admitted the lowest, most nasty and unbecoming parts of myself, and she radiated compassion, warmth and support. Driving home, the sunset was a blurry, brilliant red. I was too tired to be mad at traffic. My mother called, and we talked about cats. I have been home for an hour and haven't hugged my husband yet, so I am signing off to go do so.
Photo: "Discarded" by Irene Smith
--Kristen McHenry
3 comments:
Hi Kristen,
I am sorry you had such a hard day. You have fought very hard, and you do deserve to be acknowledged for all your work. I am sorry that doesn't always happen for you.
I think that there should be an international day of resentment. It could be practiced once a month or once a year, whatever is needed. Get it all out and be joyous in that expression. Hey, maybe then there would be more nooky in this world, eh? J
I with Jo-Ann absolutely. What a great notion. Time for a Facebook group!
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