Firmly Gripped

The experiences of a life gone by have surely made me who and what I am in the present moment.

I made a comment on a fellow blogger’s post last night, and now I’m thinking they took it the wrong way. That is what happens in the blogging world. We type out a few words and send them on their way. Very little to study, which turns into whatever we create. The intention of my comment was, in my mind, about letting go of residual pain. They had a different view. It brought me to the current morning of thinking about their reply. “Self righteous twat,” the words they used, was the waking hours’ topic of discussion in my head.

I’ve been over the reply for the last hour or so. I’ve been called many things, and it is true. I can be a self-righteous asshole at times. Any amount ego serves a degree of such. It’s not like anyone has room to say they are not full of themselves in one way or another. The commentary I often read from the blogger often times displays the pain they have experienced throughout the life they’ve had. As said, the few words we read from others never really tells us that much. We come up with our own narratives to fill in the spaces. It was a time when I should have just kept the words to myself, but they were typed out last night with a Margarita.

I don’t know what the person has lived and I am in no way at liberty to say how they should be. It hurts to see others live in the pain long after the initial pain has left. Traumatic experiences often slowly kill people as time goes on. The personal blog of mine paints the personal bloody picture. In the time of my own personal breakthrough of dealing with suffering, and in the midst of learning, I sometimes am eager to show others how liberating the experience is. I forget that others aren’t where I am. It becomes a situation that I have faced many times with many people within the last several months. If I don’t step with caution and choose the words carefully, I become the self-righteous twat.

There are many dimensions to suffering. Mine are just as unique as the blogger’s. It takes a lot to put aside the pain I find in others. I just want to help, because I know what dragging the pain along can do. I just want to help a sickness that, I know, can be cured. I told the person to let it go. Let that pain go.

Wondering if others love the pain sometimes crosses my mind. Wondering if some hold onto pain intentionally, because if they didn’t identify themselves with it, the veil would reveal to many hard truths once removed. A victim mentality. A place in the world that keeps them within a firm grip of an abusive past.

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