Be Cruel to Be Kind

People say that you’ve “got to be cruel to be kind”. Perhaps, in some ways, it does work, by denying people a bit of extra help when it’s obvious that they can do the task on their own, no matter how much they’re struggling. Basically “tough love”, if you will. But for people who use this saying, I get the feeling that they don’t think in those moments of saying it about what cruelty really is…

I can be cruel. I mean, I can be truly cruel. The black thoughts in my mind, that always expect the worst. I’ve said before that I hope that my past experiences haven’t blackened my heart too much, said it quite recently, in fact, here. But I notice more and more how the dark thoughts are still there, how I end up thinking the worst of even the nicest of people because experience says that everyone will let me down in the end, that they will just run away and I’ll be alone again, always.

In times of struggles, no matter how minor, these thoughts come to the fore more strongly. I don’t see my own weaknesses until it’s too late and I’ve made a complete tit of myself once more. Then I’ve got to somehow dig myself out of the hole, repent the things I’ve said in haste and, in trying, it just gets deeper and deeper and deeper… Then they do run away, because I’ve driven them away through my actions. The cruelty inside of me comes out further, blaming them for being like everyone else that’s always let me down, even though I know it’s my fault. But as soon as I sit back and see how much of a failure I truly am, that I let my insecurities get in the way again, I break once more. I prepare to give up trying again, but the cycle always inevitably comes around again, whether I want it to or not.

Of course, it isn’t truly my fault; it’s the fault of all those that have hurt me in the past, with genuine ill intent. They’ve turned me into a bitter, insecure, untrusting mess. The more the years have gone on, the more that I’ve been let down and taken advantage of, the worse I have gotten. I keep trying to break the cycle, but I fear it might be too late. Despite all the kindness and love in my heart, that cruel side, that bitter side, is a fixed part that refuses to leave. Maybe someone will come along one day and prove me wrong, heal the hurts and remove the thorns that cause me to lash out in anger. Yet I fear it is too late for me. I don’t like being alone, but alone is probably the best place to be.

Misplaced Trust

I’ve spent a lifetime of having faith in the wrong people. You would have thought that, at 34, I would have learnt my lesson by now. But I will say that it isn’t quite that simple.

I have been left insecure and fragile by the experiences of my past, but one thing that hasn’t yet been destroyed is my kind heart. So I still have an unerring faith in humanity, that there is some good and kindness out there somewhere, and if I don’t allow myself to open up in some ways to people, then I will never find it. I still go in cautiously, expecting to be taken advantage of, in a way. It can be even harder when you think that you have found someone who might actually be able to see past all of your flaws. Whether it be just simple friendship, or potentially something more (and it all has to start somewhere, anyway), I still keep searching and looking for those people that will prove my doubts wrong, that will prove to me that there is goodness in the world, that may even potentially save me.

But there are no “knights in shining armour”. In fact, many would-be rescuers have turned out to be demons dressed as knights, those fabled “wolves in sheep’s clothing”. It’s all left me with dents and bruises, leaving me looking a bit mismatched as I’ve had to repatch my armour in various places over the years. But the truth about humanity is that no one is perfect, that we’re all infallible. In looking for perfection you will only ever find flaws, faults, all the things that will just make you feel let down again, whether that is the intention of the other person or not. You want to see the best in people, yet all the demons have left you embittered, so even the slightest mistake can have you believing that they are just another one of those demons, out to get you, to destroy you. Slowly, through the years, the kind heart is so full of wounds and scars that, even when you want to be kind, you find it hard to be. You still want to see the best in people, but the scar tissue means that every new person that comes along has to fight a lot harder to win a treasured place.

So many won’t want to fight for a place, or won’t be able to handle the crazy mix of emotions that comes across as a result of all the damage. Even long-term friends may eventually run away, unable to cope with all the pressure. It’s left me very alone, and I believe that I may well be forever alone, as I don’t believe that there is anyone out there now who has the patience to stick around, to prove themselves and reassure me when I need it. I’ve ended up needing constant reassurance of people’s intentions, as it's become such that nowadays it won’t take much for me to lose faith in them. They say that “actions speak louder than words”, or that “words are wind”, but the right words, when actions are unavailable, can be just enough to allow you to hold on just that little bit longer.

I am quite fragile and break easily, yet I have a strong core. I use my strength to pull myself together again after every betrayal, but each time I remake myself I am not the same as I was before, leaving me trusting less, giving less chances, and requiring even more patience than before to handle. I’ve always refused to let the demons destroy the loving, kind person inside of me that would do anything for those that I care about, but she is slowly disappearing and eventually, one day, will be no more.

Letting Go

There are so many things in life that you can’t fight for, like love, peace, happiness. At various points I’ve tried to fight for them all, with a greedy desperation, thinking that they all must come to me at some point if I just tried hard enough. But all I ended up doing was driving them away. In reality, in that fight, you eventually end up fighting against what it is you’re trying to gain, because in fighting it can do nothing but take a negative turn. It’s not just the friendly fire, but also the stress and pressure of the fight. Fighting can only ever do but one thing: destroy.

I’d realised this lesson before, but I kept repeating the mistake through my dark hours, when everything kept feeling like it was falling apart. I was so desperate for something to go right for once, for something to cling on to, but it all kept slipping through my fingers, pulling away from me. So many people running scared, so many pitfalls that I didn’t see in my distraction. It was only when I was on the verge of losing everything that I understood what I needed to do: let go.

It’s like that film, The NeverEnding Story. Everything is breaking, almost everything is gone, but just at that point when all has collapsed, the boy stands up and lets go of his own pain in order to save them all. That’s the point where I am at now, except the only person I need to save is myself. Unfortunately I can’t wish for a luck dragon, nor can I wish myself a better world, but I can wish to be a stronger and better person, thereby making it a reality by working towards it. I have a choice to move on from all the trauma and mistakes from my past, and I can only do that by letting it all go, accepting it, instead of fighting it.

Luckily not everything is gone. I have somewhere to live, I have a few good friends who haven’t yet run away screaming. I owe it to them as much as myself to finally become the person I am meant to be, rather than just the damaged product of my past. I think I am finally learning to live.

The White Spaces In Between

All the white spaces in between. That’s what bright sunlight reflecting off of the sea is like, blinding and painful, yet at the same time beautiful. You don’t want to look, because it can hurt, but at the same time it’s irresistible. You are drawn into its wonder and its beauty, that place of absolute peace that’s found in the gentle near-stillness. A calm day, with softly-rolling waves, the visible heartbeat of the earth.

But it can turn, become turbulent. Raw fury lashing out, fighting against the invisible restraints that hold it bound, caught in the cycle and order of things, wishing to be set free. You remain mesmerised, trying to ride along with it, hoping that it doesn’t break you. The thrill of the ride somehow outweighing any fear. Yet the fear is still there and part of you wants to run away from it, but you can’t. Once you step on board, there is no escape.

Then it is calm once more, the wonder and joy is returned to your face. Somehow the peaceful calm and stillness is even more beautiful for having survived the turbulence. You want to stay there, basking in its glory forever. Let each wave wash over you, each ray from the sun, fulfilling you, making you whole again.

All of that, that is what love is. It can be raw, hungry, turbulent. It can be calm, gentle, peaceful. It can be blinding, it can sting, it can hurt. But, above all, it is beautiful. It is wonderful and fulfilling if you can learn to ride with it. All the fun, thrills, excitement, but with those moments of absolute terror as it drags you from one rock to another. Yet that feeling of completeness, that white space in between, that overrides it all. That experience in the shared moments, the connection, the inner peace, that is what makes it all worthwhile.

About to Derail

There is so much stress in my life right now. Too many things to get done, with time running out in which to do it in. Plus, getting older, feeling every day as my life moves forward. I’ll soon be thirty-four. It’s not a pleasant thought at all, knowing how few years I have left to settle down, a time frame of about six years in which I can have kids, if I so wish to. But that isn’t primarily what’s driving me right now. No, what’s driving me right now is despair, that feeling of being a complete failure, of bringing destruction to everything I touch. I’m an unwanted reject, too broken to be of any use to anyone. Who wants damaged goods nowadays? Too many have come into my life leaving behind piles upon piles of destruction. All anyone has wanted to do is to destroy me. Me, being the fool, has gone in, open-hearted, giving my all, as I always have done, loving with very little return, until it eventually destroys me.

After everything I’d seen and been through, I had decided that enough was enough, that I would give up. Me, unwanted, unneeded, not willing to ever give a single part of me to those undeserving ever again.

But then, something happens, something that took me completely by surprise. A light came on. Someone turned on a light inside me, a fragile thing that I hadn’t seen for such a long time. All those times I’d tried to relight a dwindling flame that was barely existent to begin with and here, all of a sudden, was a light that lit itself. Greedily, desperately, with fear, hunger and wonder in my eyes, I try to grab it with shaky hands, as if it is the most precious thing in the world and I just have to have it. Such a rare jewel that I was losing all hope of ever finding and here it suddenly was. Yet, I’m a clumsy fool. I burn myself on the flame, drop it on the ground, try to smother it with a heart that is so achingly reaching towards it, desperate to feed it. The caretaker comes to remove it to a safe place, puts a glass tube over it and a cordon around it. It is taken away from me. I can see it, but can’t touch. I can still just about feel the warmth, but from a distance, an all-too-safe distance. I’ve fucked up again.

So, here I am, again. Unable to cope with the possibility that there might be hope for me out there, but at the same time unable to cope with the other possibility of a lifetime alone. Yet, alone appears to be where it must be. I wasn’t ready to love again and perhaps I never will be. But, there again, are any of us ever ready? I don’t know if we actually have much choice, really, when the arrow chooses to strike. We all have a choice of how to react and I know that, because of my past, I can never react well to it. I am a frightened fawn, caught in the headlights. I want and need so desperately, but at the same time I am terrified of being torn to shreds again once more. I become a jittery fool that scares everyone away. So, thus, it leaves me doomed to the only choice left available – being alone.

Perhaps, in time, it won’t become a bad thing. Perhaps in time I will learn to trust myself, the only person I know I can truly rely on. I have been too nice to and too trusting of others in the past and it has been my downfall. So I say no more. I am done being that fool. It’s time to let the bitch start her reign.