For years, when someone hurt me, I had to let them know.
Just the thought that there was a person out there who had made me feel worthless or hurt, who didn’t know how much they had effected me, drove me nuts. So I would make sure they knew. I would show them the impact that they had on my life. I’d make it utterly plain how much they’d inspired pain in me. I’d pour misery from my very pores just because they had to know, they had to.
The most freeing thing that ever happened to me was learning that the people who hurt you? Nine times out of ten, they don’t give a shit.
No, really. They don’t.
So all those years I spent in agonies so that everyone could see how much I had been hurt? Totally wasted. The only person that behaviour had any kind of impact on was me. I suffered and ached and cried and they didn’t know or care and if they had known? They probably just would have laughed and told me to go fuck myself.
The people I’ve hurt over the years? They had the right idea and just got over it, evicted me from their lives and got on with it. As they should have. Because I’m no saint either: I’ve done a lot of awful things in my life, often to good people who didn’t deserve it. I’m ridiculously irritable, controlling, require space, can be cold, distant, unaffectionate and I’ve got a big mouth that runs constantly with little input from my brain. I know my flaws, I’ve examined and catalogued every one at length. Only in knowing and accepting your flaws can you ever hope to overcome them.
But you know what? When I hurt people, I feel bad about it. I care. I beat myself up about it and feel like a shit of a person and sometimes I even learn and change my ways… (sometimes.) This is because my life is dedicated to trying (and often failing, but still trying) to be a better person than I am. I’m coming to realise that this isn’t always the case with people. Most of them really, honestly don’t give a shit. Or they are happy that they have hurt you. After all, that’s what they set out to do.
So, when I was slighted against I let the person who had hurt me, who did it and then thought, ‘fuck you’, just totally rule my life and consume my thoughts. Who suffered most from that? Me. Not them.
I’m trying to be stronger these days. I’m trying to not let people who don’t care about me effect me as much. It’s really hard. But in the end it’s worth it. If someone dislikes me enough to do hurtful things, rip me off, call me names, then there’s no point in trying to make them see that they have hurt me. They don’t care. Or: they wanted to hurt me, and thus are satisfied. I shouldn’t waste my time with them.
There are only so many precious hours in the day, months in the year, years in this life. I’m going to move on and keep on working to make myself a better person, no matter how many times I fail. After all, those failures might teach me something. I’m going to work hard to make my life more awesome, myself more awesome. It’s all I can do.
My vague vagueness is vague. But, hopefully I’m able to move on now I’ve got these feelings out, rather than spinning around and around in my head. How do you cope when you are hurt?