Tue. May 17th, 2022
(1F701 + 1F702)
compassion
/kəmˈpaʃ(ə)n/
noun
  1. sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.
  2. “The victims should be treated with compassion

Let us say for a moment that I was wrong.
Maybe the wires were crossed somewhere and sure, I was not told the truth about some things (for whatever reason).

Say because I did not have anyone to talk to about the said issues, I turned to my friends and everyone gave me their opinions and since I did not have that person in question to speak with, I took those opinions to heart. By the time he could have spoken up and defended himself everything was such a bloody mess.

I vented on my blog and violated his privacy. I understand now that I did him harm by exposing his very private nature to public scrutiny. In the process of doing this, many stones were overturned that were none of my business. Instead of this space being for me to write and use my words for me, it became a place of attack for people from his past. A narrative was created based on other people’s thoughts and ideas at a time when I should have been learning about him from him.

I never had that opportunity.
Most of what I “know” about him is from other people’s experiences with him or pure speculation based on how he acts/reacts to situations.

For example:
He says I act mental when I delete messages because I do not know how to express myself properly via text. So after I have said something and realise it is not what I wanted to say, I remove it. It is a very common autist thing to do. I ask for understanding, he calls me “mental”. After enough of these situations, I was told he was an ableist.

I am neurologically impaired, not psychologically. I am not stupid or mad.

This started to make me feel very bad about myself. Why would he not try to understand me?

My echo chamber took this as a field day to point out how he did all of these things and how rancid his behaviour was.

I posted some of these conversations and he would read them and get upset. Instead of saying something about it, he would internalise it and explode on me.

Once he called me immoral. He said I was threatening him due to my behaviour – because I wrote about how he treated me on my blog.

Do I get it now?

Yeah, sort of. I have to take responsibility for my idiotic behaviour. I knew he was reading what I was posting. He read everything. I was hoping he would speak up and say, “No, that is not true” or “You misunderstood that”.

He never did.

With time I just took it all as fact. He read it, he did not correct it… I assumed there was no issue with what was being said. If someone was saying something untrue about me, I would speak up. You would too… right?

But what if you did not know how?

I am not trying to excuse the things he did. He was not being very kind. None of the situations would have been spoken about in the first place if he had been.
I am looking at him as a complete person and seeing what I did too.

I was being a fucking child.

So even if he meant no harm, he was persecuted because he lied about a few things – that in the grand scheme of us did not matter – did a few lies mean he was a horrible person?

It just meant that he walked himself into a unique situation that required a lot of trust and he was still unpacking the life he had made for himself. He probably thought he could handle it. He probably assumed he could keep all of his emotions packed away and cope with the present like his past had not happened. What choice did he have? Moving on is the only logical decision. Yes, some of it was unnecessary. Some of it he says he had no say in.

Everyone is entitled to keep secrets.

I certainly did not trust him. Once I realised the small details he was relaying to me were untrue, I began to unravel him. I picked and picked at it. Like I always do. I did not see the bigger picture – I just knew he was hiding something. I did not understand the suffering this man was going through. You can console me and say of course I did not, he did not explain this to me.

But I felt it. And I took it personally. I did not know him long enough to make an impact on his life yet I thought his heartlessness was directed at me due to something I was not providing.

Every day of indifference I assumed was because I did something wrong.

“Maybe,” one therapist said to me, “you need to take responsibility for his pain so you can ignore your own?

I did not understand that statement until now.

Maybe he is a terrible person. Perhaps I am reflecting wishful thinking on a situation so I can think of him in a better light. I cannot say for sure.

I know I would want people to think of me in a more positive way. Maybe it is us that perpetuates the darkness in others by thinking they are bad people?

Why did I not try to understand him? If I loved him, why did I not give him the room to grow? If I felt that he was in pain, why did I make it about me?

Why did I expect so much from a person I know could hardly do for himself?

It is not that I did not give the full picture before, I did not see what I was doing until I was very far away. I doubted that he cared because he would not show up for me in a way that I could feel even though he tried so many times.

He had so little to give me, the tiniest of crumbs… but he did offer them to me. Every time he opened his hand there was less.

Until one day there was nothing but a clenched fist.

Stop saying that he did not care. He did.

I just did not notice because I am used to being pursued and more obvious tells. He thought he could say what he meant once and walk away and I would know no matter how long he was gone for. That I would never need to be reassured or held.

I am a selfish brat.
I am awfully sorry for not being a good friend.

 

also, I have covid. It was bound to happen eventually. Even with three vaccines… fingers crossed that I stay symptom-free(ish).