Part 3; April 6, 2012
Previously on wordjunkies: Distressed at having been dissed by a quasi-friend and collaborator, Annie Maier took her disappointment and anger to the keyboard, hoping in the process to 1) catch and release said emotions (slippery little devils that they are), and 2) determine her role in the wake of said dissing. We now rejoin Annie, who sits sipping a now cooled coffee and reflecting upon the smoldering embers of her previous relationship.
Cool and warm: I need heat. I need movement and expression and closure. Except that I don’t. At least not the last part. An amazing thing has happened over the past few days. I’ve let it all go. I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed. I’m not concerned about my role in what I saw, six short days ago, as a disaster. Shit happens. I mean honestly. Everyday people step on one another and love one another and ignore one another, and life goes on. We move through the good and the bad with varying degrees of “success” (whatever that looks like). Hmmm. Maybe that’s my word for the day. Success. A new direction in the rant turned exploration turned musing turned miniature apex in my existence.
- the accomplishment of an aim or purpose
- the attainment of popularity or profit
- a person or thing that achieves desired aims or attains prosperity
Let’s ignore number 2 for now, as popularity remains, to a geek like me, a completely unknown entity, and profit, well, profit and I have never, ever seen eye to eye. And, because I don’t believe people can be measured by nouns, let’s skip number 3 as well.
So number 1: What did I hope to accomplish in the penning of “Expectation”? The easiest answer is that I sought to vent what was quickly becoming a miasma of emotion. But the deeper, more honest answer is that I wanted to determine if there is a difference between anger and ill will. Between stating your mind and aiming to hurt someone.
Should you be so inclined, following me into this next installment will require a completely different bit of knowledge. As briefly as possible: boy met girl. Boy was black and white. Girl was gray. Boy and girl ignored all indications of color blindedness and married… No wait. We don’t need to go that far back! Remember when I said my husband patted me on the shoulder and urged me to wait? (I think that’s in Part 2.) Well, that was fine. It is, after all, in his nature to be cautious. But me? I’m more of a “oh, pretty rattlesnake!” sort of person. Anxiety has enough say in my life, I will not admit caution. Sunday, the day after I wrote the bridge-burning email, I said, aloud, “I hope I didn’t wound (insert person’s name).” Because that is what had concerned me from 3 to 5am as I alternated between counting fluffy miniature sheep and replaying the unfolding events of the weekend in a continual loop of baas and brain-words. And my husband, ever loving, ever supportive, ever practical, answered, “Of course you did. That was your intention when you wrote the email.”
- an injury to living tissue caused by a cut, blow, or other impact, typically one in which the skin is cut or broken.
- an injury to a person’s feelings or reputation
- inflict an injury on (someone)
- injure (a person’s feelings)
I was horrified dear reader. HOR-RI-FIED!
My mate and I went back and forth for about an hour—him saying wounding was the intent, me saying wounding is NEVER my intent. Him saying wounding was inevitable, me saying wounding involves taking aim. Him saying wounding is a consequence of anger, me saying wounding is not a byproduct. Then, because I was damned if I was going to get pissed at him for something he hadn’t even been involved in, I threw my hands up (quite literally) and shouted that I just did not GET IT! I was incapable of processing his inability to see a distinction between speech and attack.
But the whole thing did make me wonder: Is there a difference?
That’s what the last three posts have been all about. And the answer? Well yes, dammit. There is a difference. While I did speak, I did not take aim. I had no intention of hurting the former quasi-friend and collaborator, only of saying to him/her “This SUCKS,” as clearly as I possibly could. I believe I did that. And I believe that, in writing this blog, I’ve come to accept that arson is sometimes necessary to integrity. Burned bridges be damned.