Grudges *warning raw emotion and anger*
For the most part, I don't hold them. Not worth the time or effort. Doesn't mean I forget, just not worth the space in my head. Over the last year, I tried to contact old acquaintances from high school. I won't say friends because truthfully, I don't have any friends from high school. I tried to mend fences of those I've crossed in life. I looked at my past, current, and future. I looked back at the last 13 1/2 months. I go back to that one singular week that forever changed my life. And I hold 1 grudge. 1 major grudge.
When M-Jay passed, there was an outpouring of support. More people than I could ever think of reached out, to try to help, to send condolences or just to lend a shoulder to lean on. People I barely knew. People I knew years ago. People I recently met. However, there were 3 that didn't reach out at all. Sam. One of the bridges I burned at the behest of someone. While we were never particularly close, still had the cordial hi in a store if I saw him. Fine, that didn't bother me. Que sera sera. Jeff. A man in his own world. Where the excuse "Jeff is Jeff." I was slightly hurt, but let myself believe that he probably never heard or didn't see. When I see him in person, again cordial even if I'm not fully trusting.
I save the best for the last because this is the one that hurts the most. The grudge I hold, and which was recently reminded of. I was friends with this man for 15 years. One of the closest friends I ever had in my life. I was there for his break-ups, his depression. The never ending drive when he wanted the new Transformers. I helped him cash his checks so he could by the toys like Pokemon he wanted. We spent hours playing n64. Watched any wrestling we could, even going to countless ECW shows. Yes, we were losers, but we enjoyed life. He was my wingman when I met the countless girls from online chats and went out with them. When someone started with him, or attacked him, I made sure I defended him. Even when I caught my cousin in his bed with him, I let that pass.
I suppose the warning sign was the old 'bros before hos' saying. I got married, had children, and we drifted apart. I still stopped occasionally, brought the boys. When my route changed into Warwick, I stopped when I could. His mom reached out when I was diagnosed with diabetes, routinely checking up on me. She was even one of the first to call when M-Jay passed.
Luke, I trusted you like a brother. And the time I needed support the most, when the outer shell I had worked so hard on was shattered, and my heart was open and exposed. When everyone saw how weak I was at that moment, I needed you to talk to, just to say I'm sorry dude. I needed support. I HATED leaning on everyone else when I was supposed to be the strong one. I hate crying in front of everyone. But I knew you'd accept because you've seen me at my weakest and my angriest. I was down, and I didn't know if I could get back up. I figured that for all the times I helped, or at least listened, the favor would be returned. Then I heard the people say "well, maybe he doesn't know what to say or how to deal with it?" As if I knew any fucking better? I had my dead daughter in my arms. I buried her. I had to plan a fucking funeral and a cremation for someone who should have lived WAY past me. I didn't even get a fucking "hey" That would have sufficed. At least I know you fucking cared. Instead, not only was I hurt and crying, barely surviving. I felt another raw wound. I had come off all this stress from work, from being falsely accused of things, to dealing with Belinda's high risk pregnancy. Money was tight, I was ready to walk off my job due to my boss. This just came as a breaking point for life.
You know that stabbing pain you get, right in the forehead. I felt that in my heart for my family, in my head for the stress, and in my back for what I considered betrayal. Today, 410 days have passed. 1 year, 1 month, and 16 days. The pain from M-Jay is still in this family. Kameron still acts out at times, and then yesterday morning he climbed in my lap, tucked his head in my chest, and said "I miss M-Jay" Taylor, now 5 talks about her being 'up there' in heaven. Belinda, she has good days and bad days. It's still hard to see little babies. You wonder what she would be doing now, what she'd look like. I still have my anger flashes. I use this blog as a way to let go what builds up, and sometimes the gym helps also.
The grudge I hold is still there. Luke's mom doesn't talk to me anymore, probably because of my anger towards her son. I tried sending my condolences via Facebook when her mom and uncle died. I don't know if they were noticed or ignored. I saw an old casual friend Friday, probably Luke's best friend. She tried explaining his side again. I told her all he had to say during that time was "I'm sorry" I'll be honest, I know it's not healthy to hold his grudge. I know it's wrong, but I use it. I use this pain and experience, to watch myself. Watch my back. Try to not let get someone get that close again. Someone asked if I was good friends with someone I trained at work, since we were training together for 6 1/2 weeks. Sorry, but I'm going to hold you at arm's length. If it gets too close or uncomfortable, I'll make a lame joke or some perverted comment. I'm not letting myself feel that pain again. At least, I can control that. I can't control the anger or pain of losing a child, I can control who I let close to me.
I had someone else from my past, message me. I left a parting note with I know we probably wouldn't talk again, and I was told that we could talk and text. But I know better. I won't let that person get close enough. I hate making the same mistake twice.
When M-Jay passed, there was an outpouring of support. More people than I could ever think of reached out, to try to help, to send condolences or just to lend a shoulder to lean on. People I barely knew. People I knew years ago. People I recently met. However, there were 3 that didn't reach out at all. Sam. One of the bridges I burned at the behest of someone. While we were never particularly close, still had the cordial hi in a store if I saw him. Fine, that didn't bother me. Que sera sera. Jeff. A man in his own world. Where the excuse "Jeff is Jeff." I was slightly hurt, but let myself believe that he probably never heard or didn't see. When I see him in person, again cordial even if I'm not fully trusting.
I save the best for the last because this is the one that hurts the most. The grudge I hold, and which was recently reminded of. I was friends with this man for 15 years. One of the closest friends I ever had in my life. I was there for his break-ups, his depression. The never ending drive when he wanted the new Transformers. I helped him cash his checks so he could by the toys like Pokemon he wanted. We spent hours playing n64. Watched any wrestling we could, even going to countless ECW shows. Yes, we were losers, but we enjoyed life. He was my wingman when I met the countless girls from online chats and went out with them. When someone started with him, or attacked him, I made sure I defended him. Even when I caught my cousin in his bed with him, I let that pass.
I suppose the warning sign was the old 'bros before hos' saying. I got married, had children, and we drifted apart. I still stopped occasionally, brought the boys. When my route changed into Warwick, I stopped when I could. His mom reached out when I was diagnosed with diabetes, routinely checking up on me. She was even one of the first to call when M-Jay passed.
Luke, I trusted you like a brother. And the time I needed support the most, when the outer shell I had worked so hard on was shattered, and my heart was open and exposed. When everyone saw how weak I was at that moment, I needed you to talk to, just to say I'm sorry dude. I needed support. I HATED leaning on everyone else when I was supposed to be the strong one. I hate crying in front of everyone. But I knew you'd accept because you've seen me at my weakest and my angriest. I was down, and I didn't know if I could get back up. I figured that for all the times I helped, or at least listened, the favor would be returned. Then I heard the people say "well, maybe he doesn't know what to say or how to deal with it?" As if I knew any fucking better? I had my dead daughter in my arms. I buried her. I had to plan a fucking funeral and a cremation for someone who should have lived WAY past me. I didn't even get a fucking "hey" That would have sufficed. At least I know you fucking cared. Instead, not only was I hurt and crying, barely surviving. I felt another raw wound. I had come off all this stress from work, from being falsely accused of things, to dealing with Belinda's high risk pregnancy. Money was tight, I was ready to walk off my job due to my boss. This just came as a breaking point for life.
You know that stabbing pain you get, right in the forehead. I felt that in my heart for my family, in my head for the stress, and in my back for what I considered betrayal. Today, 410 days have passed. 1 year, 1 month, and 16 days. The pain from M-Jay is still in this family. Kameron still acts out at times, and then yesterday morning he climbed in my lap, tucked his head in my chest, and said "I miss M-Jay" Taylor, now 5 talks about her being 'up there' in heaven. Belinda, she has good days and bad days. It's still hard to see little babies. You wonder what she would be doing now, what she'd look like. I still have my anger flashes. I use this blog as a way to let go what builds up, and sometimes the gym helps also.
The grudge I hold is still there. Luke's mom doesn't talk to me anymore, probably because of my anger towards her son. I tried sending my condolences via Facebook when her mom and uncle died. I don't know if they were noticed or ignored. I saw an old casual friend Friday, probably Luke's best friend. She tried explaining his side again. I told her all he had to say during that time was "I'm sorry" I'll be honest, I know it's not healthy to hold his grudge. I know it's wrong, but I use it. I use this pain and experience, to watch myself. Watch my back. Try to not let get someone get that close again. Someone asked if I was good friends with someone I trained at work, since we were training together for 6 1/2 weeks. Sorry, but I'm going to hold you at arm's length. If it gets too close or uncomfortable, I'll make a lame joke or some perverted comment. I'm not letting myself feel that pain again. At least, I can control that. I can't control the anger or pain of losing a child, I can control who I let close to me.
I had someone else from my past, message me. I left a parting note with I know we probably wouldn't talk again, and I was told that we could talk and text. But I know better. I won't let that person get close enough. I hate making the same mistake twice.
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