Hate Hole
The dynamic little city which put on quite a show in ending my southward trek in 1977 has grown into a hate spot for me. The chaotic boom greed has paved over most of what so enchanted me way back when. Hubs and the GKs have been the only forces strong enough to pull me back into that chaos since I began finalizing arrangements for Ecuador in 2006. The current draws are the court cases surrounding the GKs and the responsibilities of property ownership for the coopted retirement homestead. Isn't it romantic? It niggles that the middle aged retirees who coopted our retirement homestead should be a draw, as well, but. . . Well. . . The question which rose during YS's funeral on which of my sons died first is still haunting across time and space. Our relationship hasnae evolved one iota since the somewhere between 2006 and 2016 when he christened me, "Toxic Mom." I'm okay here in my Toxic People Landfill. Increasingly, I wish I could off-load the ownership responsibilities of his retirement center inside the Metroplex which has landed atop that dynamic little city. I donae like **going there** at all.
Hate is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
Is it "A Change of Venue" which is needed to move the CPS/court proceedings to a more convenient location? Dunno. . . Research in progress. Hating the research, but feeling like it is the healthier poison in this particular snot knot. Getting the seven hour commute out of the proceedings seems like a reasonable step in healing this hate hole. It is only a three hour drive (each way) from here to the metroplex, but court parking is a challenge, even for the residents. When I have lived in and/or visited downtown metroplexes, I use mass transit. Driving's okay most days. Parking sucks, always. The commute from the city limits to the courtroom can be the longest stretch of the commute, even if you know where the courtroom is.
The ownership responsibilities remain in Hubby's court. He still feels obliged to provide for his son's retirement in the family tradition established by his father and older brother. All that is his to sort. It takes what it takes. Listening, my love. . . No, love, my feelings on the situation havenae changed a lick and I am weary of repeating myself. Still listening. . . Keep venting. Your own answers are in there.
Hubs and I are still N-wording on the little ship of fools. Hubs got a playful grin out of my spiel about the reactions I have been getting out of using the terms, "The New Normal" and "Normalizing." Both terms are working for us and we are willing to call ^it^ whatever communicates the need. His response was, "I'll N-word to that."
Speaking of which, the school train is pulling in to the station. We seem to be holding steady. Prayers ongoing. . .
Replies
Hugs Arfie.
I have my own “Hate Holes” but I prefer to list them according to Dante’s “Circles of Hell”. I can empathize though in my own way.
Listening, my sister in healing.
“Hate is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” That statement really hit home for me this morning. It rang true in so many things for me.
Hugs, support & love, Arfie
arfie, when you wrote, "Hate is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die" I was reminded of when I myself did drink that poison and sit there sick, waiting. I've done it. After I was tortured by a military death squad in Uruguay when I was 15, I did it for a lot of years. My username here on Daily Strength is "mujica" because Mujica is Uruguay's Nelson Mandela. Mujica was tortured, too (see the Netflix movie about it A 12 Year Night). Then, like Mandela, he didn't just drink poison about it and wait for his torturers to die, and one day he became president. I'm not trying to become a president, I'm just trying to do more with my life than sit around waiting for those who harmed me to die. So are you, now in this situation with your grand kids. Others may still be drinking poison and waiting, but you're not. Way to go!
Arfie.
I feel you about the city life. Its noisy and the people are not always nice. I myself and getting ready to ask for Friday off so I can get to a camp site somewhere near the ocean. As I get older I just pray for the peacefulness. It gets harder to drown out all the chaos. Prayers and hoping you might get to the River soon.
You’re doing what needs to be done and holding steady. I have a lot of admiration for your and hubs effort and caring.
Pensando en ti otro di'a ma's, arfie, mandando mi apoyo.
El apoyo is bien apreciado y mas necesitado, compadre. Gracias por todo.
The good news is that the triage on the hate holes seems to be holding steady. As hate holes will, the epicenter keeps shifting like an astronaut in free float but they arenae fissuring into random targeting to whatever victim is bystander, the more innocent, the better. Guilty people are too good at knowing when to disappear. Simple awareness that the hate bubbles are popping has been holding as enough to defuse the psychotic offshoots. Hate always seems to be a major producer of psychotic offshoots.
De nada, mi amiga. Siempre.
Yeah, I don't embrace hatred just because it's wrong, it's because it doesn't work for me. I see others embrace it in a way that almost seems to strengthen them, but it tends to make me nutty, arfie.
Ya wants to talk to the linebacker who got in the way of my 95 pound hatred about how much hate can strengthen you? He might be willing to testify to the simple fact that the strength of hatred causes more damage than healing. Maybe. It wouldn't surprise me if the testifying will give him PTSD flashbacks. PTSD is the number one cause of PTSD, after all.
The strength of hatred frightens me to the core of my being, most especially my own. It is a vicious and devious psychosis that is hard to come back from. I doesn't wanna fall down that proverbial rabbit hole again.
Wow Arfie remind me not to upset you lol. Good for you, I wish I had half your fire. I struggle with hatred every day and I know it only hurts me.
It has grown much safer to upset me, Shaky. My toolbox has lengthened the link between reaction and response considerable. These days you have to know me pretty well to see that I am even upset before I disappear to work my psychotherapy toolbox.
Yes, hate hurts the haters far more than it hurts the objects of the hatred, even when it results in winning medals for "bravery." In my strictly personal case, actions motivated by hatred arenae "brave." They are stupidity in motion. Hatred enhances physical strength far more than it enhances intelligence.