Reading About Yourself in Third Person

Mental Health, Relationships , , , ,

I am not going into details here, but I have been reading about myself on someone else’s blog. I know it’s about me because the details are very clear and I know this person personally and she is very angry with me. I understand her anger because I’ve been through this anger before in a somewhat similar situation. I understand why she’s angry, though someday she might see that she’s really more angry and sad with herself and someone else involved in the situation much more than it’s about me.

She doesn’t know I’m reading her blog.

She also doesn’t know I occasionally comment on her blog anonymously.

She also doesn’t know she’s been responding to my comments with loving, generous feedback…she’s responding with love unwittingly to the one she is so angry at.

What’s so interesting to me is that she writes about wanting to be in a room with me for 5 minutes to tell me all the things she’s already written about me to the world. The things I’ve already read, as have many others.

Some day, I imagine, she will actually see me again in person…because those kinds of things tend to happen in a world so small, especially when you live in the same town. Will she actually say those things? Will I actually respond to them the way I think I might? I imagine what might really happen is that she begins spewing angry words and I might nod and say “I understand. I feel you.” And she would be confused. And then maybe we would cry.

What she doesn’t see is that I feel a lot for her and all I want to do is hug her until it stops hurting so much, until I feel the anger and pain and hate seeping out of her little by little. All I want to do is show her that I’m a human being too and that I’ve been hurting too and that I want things to be okay with us and I actually want her in my life – welcomed and loved. I actually want to open my heart and my arms to her and see her there amongst my friends. Her actions have made that impossible…

I want her to see that her life has actually just begun, that she can start a new one that is just as grand or more grand than the first trek she was on. I want her to see that that is not at all dependent upon whether I was ever in her life and none of it hinges on me…except her anger. I want her to know she’s loved by who she perceives as her enemy. I want her to know we’re the same in many ways, that I have nothing of hers and all I offer her is me.

Part of me wants to offer myself in sacrifice – no weapons in hand or mind. The only defense I have is love and compassion. Sometimes it’s enough. Tonight, I wonder…

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