Archives: Summa Amare

Confessions On A Sad Night

If a man who has committed sexual immorality, who takes drugs, lies, cheats, slanders and hurts vulnerable people, otherwise a very ugly person is endowed with the honour of being called a “beautiful person” there are only three possible reasons for this. 1: he is a profoundly good liar that has managed to convince those around him that he is a good person, like a priest who rapes children is loved by a community of followers despite being privately rotten. 2: That those who think he is a good person are themselves mentally disturbed. 3: That he is a good person, but so frustrated that he mistreats the vulnerable and otherwise takes drugs, cheats, lies and slanders all in secret as an outlet to release his frustrations for not being able to speak up, like a man who is terribly unhappy with his partner and so becomes a terrible misogynist to women in the workplace to release all his frustrations that he cannot otherwise do at home.

Finding forgiveness when so much injustice has occurred is incredibly difficult. While it is a process that takes time, that requires courage and understanding, it is also more importantly about a decision. Signing your name on a personal contract that does not necessarily excuse all the bad things done and especially not forget them, but to accept that the person who caused this harm will never change. It is to forgive myself for hoping and finding anything, any idea, any thought, any suggestion that this hope was real and possible.

I know I am reacting, my heart is really sad and I tend to bite when I am sad, but when I saw this man who hurt me being called “beautiful” it was the first time that I cried. For many years I cried as a victim, as someone who was hurt by him and he denied any wrongdoing, where he gathered people around him and lied to them to make them believe he had done nothing wrong and that it was in fact me that was the bad person, who slandered me and laughed at me. He created a false facade, he probably even gave to charity to tell himself that he was a “good person” rather than repent and apologise for the wrongdoing that he actually did. I spent those years trying to communicate to him in ways that he would understand how important it was for me to hear him apologise but he hid in the shadows and lived in secrecy. I should have learnt from that but instead I continued to hope, I jumped in front of him to say “here I am, be honest!” but instead he pretended he could not see me. He was unwilling to even look at me and he made me into nothing, a nobody as he did before, which broke my heart entirely. In my mind, I wrote blog posts, tried to get him to read books that I would recommend, to get him to think philosophically, but nothing worked and the people around him only helped solidify this false facade by calling him “beautiful” to my utter dismay.

Women who see bad men treat other women badly seem to think that is an indication of love. That aggressive and masculine behaviour is acceptable, even congratulated.

When I saw that comment I cried, but it was with a stillness, upright as the tears silently drizzled down my cheeks while watching the sunset from my balcony. It was like I was at his funeral and I knew that there was no hope for a reprieve.

I think I now believe he is officially dead inside, he has no soul left.

If people closest to him support him then they are his accomplices, they are as he is and he is them; if he is a monster, then it is likely they are too, liars who pretend to be good. Any good Christian would know Jesus’ statement about the blind Pharisee: “Thou blind Pharisee, cleanse first that which is within the cup and platter, that the outside of them may be clean also.” For the first time this cold evening, I became truly honest with myself and admit that I spent the last several years on a delusion that he would “wake up” from this deception, that rather than working so hard to convince people of his lies he would instead come to see that it is penitence that is beautiful, honesty that is beautiful and courage that is beautiful, all of which he does not have. He lies with the intention of fooling others to believe that this artificial facade is real, that if they believe in his lies then it is no longer lies but the truth since whatever is believed must be true. As King Solomon said: “The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy.”

I was so hurt by him for so many years, crying myself to sleep, even becoming very unwell. I guess I loved him, but sometimes I am confused as to whether this was a love for the possibility of what he could have been or the desire to have him tell me that I am not all the horrible things he said to me. He took away my confidence and self-esteem, and maybe I thought that by repenting he could have given that back to me. It seems obvious enough that his effect on me is the cruelty of his attacks on a person who had a gentle affection for him. That I wanted him to be my friend.

I guess I see this not as a blog post, not something scientific or political or philosophical, not as a way to convey a message or to teach and speak cryptically. I am outside, on my own and in the cold looking down at my phone as I write this and I am doing it to say to me, to you, to God, I am sorry for being such a fool but I now accept my fault in all this because it is my own fault for believing in him when I should never have. It is a way of admitting that I was an incredible fool as I lived in a tornado of false hopes, the delusion that he has something inside of him that made it possible he could be a good man. I believed it was genuinely possible, I believed a monster like him could be a man but tonight, all of that has dissipated and I am licking the raw wound of this honest confession.

So many dark thoughts spun in my mind like a kaleidoscope of anger and bitterness for wasting my time, those months where I was disgusted enough to think angry things like I hope he and his cohort rot in the lowest depths of hell where they all belong, moving to a deeper sadness where I had nightmares of him, even so far as becoming at odds with reality where I would imagine that he was reading my blog. I was completely deluding myself the whole time, stuck in an unforgiving mode where I was wrapped in all his wrong that I could not see what I was really doing.

Tonight, it is just a stillness. I feel nothing because I embrace my faults and accept his death. It hurts. I am in a terrible mourning, but then again, I have been for several years now. I have identified where I have gone wrong and how much I have harmed myself because of this, but no more. It is raw, like being burnt and the skin is now peeling off leaving a sting that needs protecting, but it is off nonetheless and it will heal. I want to hold on to hate, to anger, the desire for revenge, but I won’t.

If he has no soul, if he no longer alive, so must I mourn and slowly move on.

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