Sometimes I will admit I can become so tired of myself. Sick of myself in fact. I look in the mirror and see this weak, pathetic and needy woman looking back at me and I hate her.
The people that treat me the worse I treat the kindest and for what?
I apologise to the people I feel I have hurt because I can’t carry that heaviness in my heart every day. The burden is too heavy and it poisons me every second of everyday that I do.
To the woman who I pushed away once I could tell she had, had enough of my grief. The same women who could no longer deal with a depressed friend. The woman who was in it for only the good times and only a quota of bad.
I told her sorry I showed her my depressive state. I apologised for bringing her down with my misery. Apologised for pushing her away.
She kindly carried on with her initial response and not only ignored my gesture but blocked me from her life all over again. Nice huh?
To the woman I helped give birth to her first born child. To the mother of the child I stayed awake hours caring for her colic child being gentle, sweet and patient as possible. To the woman whom I warned via her partner about people trying to harm her.
To the woman I would leave my own family for to accompany her on nights she needed or wanted me.
The same woman who called me a “terrible mother, terrible friend, terrible person and immature”.
I told her I was sorry I hurt her by not following her every instruction. I was sorry that I assumed she trusted me just because I was caring for her new born child.
I apologised for being a terrible person.
To which she not only blocked me from her life in way of a reply but then tried to convince others including my own friends that I intentionally inflicted emotional trauma on her and I am a great deceiver. Then to add the “cherry on top” said she wished me the best of luck in life? At which I became confused at who was deceiving who.
To the distant friend who kicked me out of her home the weekend I came to stay. The same friend who did not care if I got hit by a car outside her home or if I walked miles in circles to try and find my way home from such a far away place that I did not know.
The same person who looked me in my eyes while I cried desperate tears and pleaded with to resolve our argument.
I apologised for not being a mind reader. I apologised for not doing what she had wanted, when she had wanted. I apologised for not explaining myself properly. I apologised for all our misunderstandings.
Why am I like this?
Why am I nice to people who clearly not only can’t stand me, think I am worthless and treat me accordingly?
They say “kill em with kindness” but its killing me; not them.
I used to think the only option was to do the opposite and be more like them. Be nasty. Be bitchy.
I have it in me and yet I choose not to.
I am not them. They are not me.
At the end of the day I have to live with myself for the rest of my life. I want to be able to look back on my life and say I at least tried to be a good, loving and caring person.
I can only hope that being these things are rewarded.
I look at all these people now and see them getting on not a care in the world about what they did to me. Some I know for a fact still enjoy the fact they stepped on me and pray I am still broken as a result of what they did; yes some of them take pride in who they are and what they have done especially if it is horrible.
For all of those who supported me the other day in regards to my contemplation on Karma, I thank you again although I am still contemplating it.
I realise now Karma or not I am lucky in the sense that these people who treat me this way have given me the biggest gift of all by staying away because they are not the sort of people I ever want back in my life. Throwing apologies back in my face as if they are better, bigger and more maturer than me? Yet to me it seems they are the very opposite especially how they let their pride control them.
I may look weak.
Sometimes I may even feel weak especially for my apologising nature. However I have so many good friends, family, love and light that the reflection I see is only ever temporary like a small stone making a ripple in the sea.