There’s resentment. There is tension. These happen when two sides care but see and think different, neither wrong—just different—and there is not compassion to amend emotional divide.
I don’t like it, but it’s there. I hurt feelings yesterday, multiple. One amended. One did not, and it was the one where I knew I hurt that healed, and the one where none was meant or discerned—was raised and spoken on after, and consideration and meant apology for cause of feeling and effect—was not.
It takes two sides to make peace. Otherwise it is just surrender and concession. There is no love in that, no meeting of reconcile, just a giving up that plays to power and fosters further abuse of emotions and positions going forward.
There is a line of demarcation neither of us cross. We grow closer—amend and reconcile—or apart. Same is a lie we tell ourselves when likely it’s the last. Resentment and tension are the pains through which, sometimes, spirit grows. Growth is not all transcendence, highs, and joys. It’s often their opposites that guide us back and into these.
I don’t like it, but it is what it is. Life isn’t all beauty and perfect and peace. To be so is a fine ideal; but ideals are rarely real in form though they help us seek and foster times when they become.
Today isn’t one—and that’s fine.
I drink my coffee. It’s bitter too, but it’s my last cup, and day goes on. Sometimes I drink too much and the bitterness is poison—shakes and edgy and an inability to center and still. When it comes, I don’t know why I drink so much, but I do. It is a lesser of other poisons—and I’ve drank in excess of these too. I cut them out completely. Maybe one day, I’ll do the same with the bitterness.
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Oftentimes, what we present the world are high-points and the pretty pictures. Life isn’t always that way, and it is honest seeing and examination of the times when life is not the high or pretty that help us better see the beauty and blessing when it is.
To know others go through the same, work through tensions, resentments—growth—helps us know we’re not alone; that others live and grow and experience the same.
We don’t exist to be isolated. We don’t exist to put on a pretty face when it isn’t what we feel. We exist to be “real,” and we are only so—in life—for a little while.
So this is a writing today, condition of present state. “Real,” alive: as I am for a little while.