I’m having a bad case of the mean reds. Mean reds are when you’re scared. Sometimes I don’t know why I’m scared, but tonight I know why. My heart is palpitating because it know’s why.
I had a draining day. I confronted a Melanie Hater (I don’t like using that term anymore, but that’s how you know them by) earlier for brunch. We talked about everything. I knew that the waterworks were going to hit me sooner or later, so I surrendered myself to it. I openly weeped while sitting in a booth in Grace’s diner. I tried not making a scene, but it needed to come out.
She told me that I was not welcomed to go on vacation with them to Maine. She didn’t feel comfortable with me being there. She kept trying to cycle back to everything that I did, or said – taking the blame off of herself and being unable to empathize with how much she hurt me. She’s not able to see it. Like she’s not strong enough or doesn’t know herself enough to know others. Compassion starts with the self.
She lacks the ability to see herself in others.
I saw everything that was happening and understood it. I was being open and honest, baring everything, not hiding myself, not getting angry. I used nothing but compassion and love. Compassion and love. I took everything I learned over this past year and used it to strengthen my faith, my courage and my love. I used my knowledge to try and describe what it feels like to just lift the veil up over your eyes and to live a life of compassion, empathy and forgiveness.
She can’t do it.
“I feel like there’s a block in you. Like you’re just not able to empathize with me. I feel like the block is from something inside you that’s stopping it from happening. Like you don’t have enough love for yourself or self-confidence. You don’t see other people, you only see yourself and what you’re thinking.”
I wasn’t saying this to be harsh in any way. I said it because I care about her and I wanted her to see the awesome person that she is. If she opens up her channel of self-actualization, the love and confidence will follow and with it would come the ability to forgive others. She’d be able to forgive others because she can accept and forgive herself.
She’s just not there yet. She’s not there yet and I’ll continue to go through the ringer, but I choose it. I choose to do it and in all actuality, it’s worth it to me. It’s worth it to me because she’s my friend. She’s my friend, so of course it’s worth it.
I told her that I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I told her that I loved her. And then she told me one last time that I wasn’t welcomed to go to Maine with her before getting up and leaving me sitting there with my bitter sweet coffee of tears.
Except I had no more tears at that point. I sat there nodding my head. I was tapped out for the day.
But afterwards, I felt truly wonderful. Completely head over heals in love with myself. I felt like a rock, like an unshakable rock of truth and love. And I knew at that moment that it’s in these moments that define my purpose. I’m a giver, a healer, but I’m also the sign on your back that says “please kick me.”
I kick you awake beeyoch.
No, just kidding….
I can’t make anyone see what I see. I can’t make them see what they’re not ready to see.
Losing the ego is the death of self – it’s completely terrifying. Not only are you suffering loss, but also embarking on the unknown. It’s an experience that must be felt, not told. And the best way to help a person understand is only through love and compassion. All I can do is give my love and compassion. I can’t tell people anything, only show and give. I baptize them with my own tears. I embody the loving energy of Christ. The same Christ that people intellectually know about, but feel too weak to embody forgiveness in themselves.
That monk really did do something to my brain. Am I sure I really want this? It’s a lonely path after all. It’s lonely when being defenseless and laying my heart on the line. I can feel it in my chest. Pumping beneath my sternum – virtually unprotected. But I can’t deny the strength I get from it. It’s iridescent.
Today I hiked, cleaned my room, finished a painting and watched Lost. I watched the episode where Julia dies by falling down a shaft and smashing the nuclear bomb with a rock. I cried. Then I watched a foreign documentary about a druggy prostitute called Loving Sophie. I cried. Then I tried watching a documentary about dying and grief – why did I do that? I emptied myself out before shutting the movie off.
It got me thinking about how important it is to have supportive friends and family in times of crisis. I thought about the Camino and I hate to say it but, what if something happens to me out there? I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. I need all the prayers I can get. I need to know that people will be here for me when I get back. That’s why going to Maine was so important to me. To feel like I have something to come home to. It’s unbearably scary knowing that I have nothing to come back to.
Hence the reason for the Mean Reds.
I’m so tired. That rock tumbler is something else I tell ya. Okay, I’m going to step out of the big almighty tumbler for the time being and look at it for what it really is. It’s shaping me, evolving me and strengthening me. I have to let it do what it does. I asked for this. There is nobody to blame but myself.
Unconditional surrender to the process requires unconditional love for others.
I will never forget this, never revert back to the old Melanie. All thanks to you. My memory bank blog. My tender silent comrade.
This stuff is real, and if you pay enough attention to it, it might save your life some day. Or somebody else’s. Ah hell, it may save all of goddamned humanity.