Some Good Therapy

I’m trying to decide if something is true. I've heard that when someone else sees a fault in you, it is usually a reflection of their own most hated trait. So, when a complete stranger accuses you of being insensitive and a generally awful person it’s because they really hate themselves and that particular side of their personality.

Ideally, I like the idea behind the sentiment. But when someone “insults my honor,” because sometimes clichés are prefect, than all logic and pretty sentiment flies out the window. I want to quietly escort them behind the building and then scream and rant in their face about the complete idiocy of their actions. And maybe throw in a few punches if they’re warranted.

My emotional side doesn’t listen to the logical. It gets its feelings hurt and wants to lash out and make that person so miserable that they will never dare to step foot outside again. When I manage to calm down a little I can squash that side down enough to hide it. But the nerve is still raw. And it wouldn’t take much to bring it back to the surface again. And the second time would be much more violent and drawn out.

The logical side is still speaking at this point but I don’t think anyone is listening. It’s saying things like the statement above and adding to it. Philosophical things like, that person was miserable inside already and they were just spreading their poison. That retaliating will just perpetuate the circle and continue the spread of hatred and cruelty. And that I can be a bigger person and make my mother proud.

The emotional side wants to take the logical side out to the alley and do some yelling at it too but it can’t shake that obnoxious older sibling that lives in the brain. I’m hurt. I want to make them hurt too. Because sharing the anger will make it better.

But it never seems to. It just feeds. It’s a parasite that sucks away any chance at living. It starts small. I harbor a petty annoyance and don’t say anything but I don’t forget it. And it sits in the back of my mind and festers. An infected sore that’s covered up by clean bandages and makeup. But it worms its way deeper and deeper until it reaches the bloodstream. And then it enters my brain, tainting every thought, every action, every day with anger and fear. But I justify it because I was wronged. I was hurt. And they need to pay.

But who am I hurting in the meantime? There’s the logical side again. It’s good I haven’t killed it off entirely because at least then I can still claim the title of rational human being and not soulless monster. But it’s hard. Near impossible to give it any sway when the anger is pumping, pumping, pumping, keeping time with my heartbeat.

We all gotta take anger management courses peeps. That infection is spreading like an epidemic and I’m sad that I’ve joined the throngs. Even now my blood is still boiling. It’s just going to take time. But people? I gotta shake this. Because it isn’t worth another thought. Someone who doesn’t know me from Adam isn’t even worth a blink. Unless I’m keeping her in my character queue. She’d make a good villain I dare say. That’s not too vindictive right?