I see you, and I hear you. I know it sucks.
To the woman who’s struggling to be the bigger person, at a time when you want to get even and get revenge, I see you. I hear you. I understand.
I know that fire burning in your chest, sliding up your throat, and resting in the back of your mouth; ready to spew out all of the words and pain and anger you’ve had to swallow a thousand times over. I know the buzz inside your head when you see the people who still support the person who hurt you most, who don’t know the truth of what happened, and how you want nothing more than to scream at them, “Look at all the pain they caused me! I’m not the crazy one! How can you still stand by them after everything they’ve put me through?!”
I know that ache in the depth of your stomach, gnawing at you every freaking second because you can’t bury the thoughts in your head and the feelings in your chest anymore. You can’t stand another second of them getting away with the absolute bullshit they put you through. You want to get low, get even, drag them through the mud and put their shady side on display for the world to judge because that’s exactly how you’ve felt: Judged. Judged for walking away, or for not walking away sooner. Judged for saying too much the few times you couldn’t keep your pretty lips pressed together, or the times you didn’t say anything when you should’ve. Judged on whether you’re telling the truth, because how could someone like them be so bad? You want karma to come around and kick the person who hurt you so hard they’re unrecognizable.
I know that anger in your core, red hot with a rage you hate yourself for feeling in the first place, heating up all the parts you cannot cool with a blast of forgiveness or mercy. You feel anger –resentment– at the person who took your kindness and love and manipulated you into the place you sit idle in. You feel resentment at friends for not choosing your side when you were clearly the wronged one, even though you tell them you’ll never make them pick sides (and you won’t). You feel resentment at the people who crowd around the person who hurt you because it’s not fair they get to maintain the “Good Guy” image while you’re left with all the pieces they scattered around you. You feel resentment at all the people who give you pointless advice that “It’ll get better,” or that “They’ll get what’s coming to them one day,” or the dreaded “You need to do things for you, not to get back at them.” You know that you need to do things for you, but it doesn’t change the fact they’re seemingly getting away with it.
I know that voice screaming the same sentences over and over in your head: What about me? What about my justice? Why am I the one experiencing the consequences when I’m not the one who committed the crime?
I know what you’re feeling because I’ve been there, and I am there, and I want you to know that I see you. I see the pain you’re going through that you work so hard to bury deep inside. I see the tears you leave on your pillow at night when you lay your head down and the wave of shit you’ve had to act like doesn’t bother you races to the forefront. I see that you’re not sad because you miss them or because you’re not over the trauma they caused you; you’re sad because no one was there to tell you, “It’s okay to be angry and sad and frustrated at the aftermath you were left in.” Can I tell you that? Because it is okay to feel those things. I’m so sorry you were left to pick up all the pieces and act like it didn’t even bother you at the same time. I see how unfair that is. I see how hurt you are. I see you.
I hear your thoughts, pounding at the back of your head, screaming out loud for someone else to hear (but no one else ever hears) because you just need someone to care. I hear the pain in the words you don’t say out loud. I hear the sorrow in the memories you try so hard to forget, because there is no happiness to be found in those memories. I hear the cry in your smile when friends ask how you’re doing and you have to lie through pearly white teeth, “I’m doing just fine,” because they might mistake your hurt for missing the person you were with instead of recognizing that you’re hurt by the aftermath you were forced to deal with… all while watching the person who cut you apart act like nothing ever happened. I hear what you say and what you don’t say and what you wish you would’ve said, and I want you to know that it’s okay to think and feel and say whatever it is you want to think or feel or say. It’s okay to still be sad for any reason a month later, six months later, a year later. It’s okay to be sad and happy at the same time. I hear you. I get it.
I understand that fire in your chest, that buzzing in your head, and that nagging pain in your gut. I won’t lie to you and say this is easy, because it’s not. Being the bigger person sucks, and it sucks the whole time; not just in the beginning or immediately following an incident. It sucks full-time, and you can’t do anything about it because if you do, you might prove the other person right, look crazy, or be ridiculed for saying anything in the first place. You’ll be the one on display should you quit being the bigger person. You’ll be the one who has to prove what you went through happened, and chances are you can’t. It’s your word against theirs and it feels like they’ve already won, so what’s the point, right? I couldn’t possibly understand you more.
Yes, karma will get them and you’ll have your day (one day) where you can say, “See? This was what I was trying to tell you!” But that day isn’t today and you want nothing more than for it to be right this freaking second. You had to wait through all that pain, all that trauma, all that hurt. Why do you have to wait another second for them to get what’s been coming to them for years? I understand that internal struggle and I can only offer you some support. I won’t offer you the same bullshit advice you hear day in and day out. I just want you to know that whatever validation you need, that you are owed, is right here in this post. May you get your revenge one day, however that is represented for you. May you stay strong in your role as the bigger person, because we all know it isn’t easy. And if you can’t take being that person a second longer, may you light a fire under the person who wronged you with the words you wish you would’ve said all along (and good for you for standing up for yourself).
I wish you all the best, my friend. This life is hard, people suck, and justice is not always fair, but you’ll overcome this one way or another. In the meantime, it’s okay to not be okay. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Take care.
Fire & Female 