I don’t get taken in much anymore, but damned if doesn’t happen from time to time. And it hurts, deeply. Not long ago I was involved with a company whose owner for several years gave every sign and symptom of being a real friend. He kept this behavior up until, I later realized, he didn’t need my presence to make his company money and off the cliff I went. Brutally painful. Then along comes some people who help me enormously in life, more than I could have imagine or prayed for, and in doing so they profess friendship, one even suggested I think of them as a sibling. This lasted until I told the truth about a situation they were not ready to face and subsequently I was on the receiving end of the shoot-the-messenger syndrome. Easier to shoot the messenger than deal with the message. Again, brutal pain.
Well, I am only eight days away from turning 56, the first birthday my father didn’t reach, and I am looking at and considering some major changes in life. But the heart-and-soul bruising of recent events distracts me and has me wrestling with a hefty dose of sadness, and, to be frank, an equal size dose of anger. All of the folks just mentioned didn’t have the backbone to tell me of their retreats to my face, the sent emissaries, in person, by phone, and, in one case, by e-mail. I am, by nature, a deeply forgiving person. Sometimes to the point of forgetting that I have a right to my anger and, by the way, it’s expression.
Years ago, and I mean many years ago, 35 probably, I just would have simply pulverized two out of the three just mentioned. While I have never been a bully in life (I was the one who would seek out and level the bully) I didn’t take shit from people and didn’t take kindly to getting fucked over by people who were supposed to be my friends. Fortunately for my heart and soul and sobriety (not to mention the physical welfare of two of the just mentioned) those days are long gone. But let me tell you something, if you’re one of those who go around telling somebody you love them or are like a sibling to them when the truth is you’re nothing but lip service, you ought to fucking be ashamed of yourself. Your behavior? It’s pitiful.
Am I going to end this brief missive with some piece of wisdom or heartfelt peacemaking? No. I’m not. I’m hurt. And I’m angry. Maybe some other time.