Tag: rage

My Miscellany: The Ex: The Final Words

wp-1485298089762.jpgWell, I thought I was finished with talking about the ex.  Apparently not.  But these WILL BE the final words she gets.

A poet friend emailed me today saying that my ex has been contacting her and telling her all kinds of wonderful things about me and our past.

REWIND:  My ex found out from a friend that I was running a gofundme campaign and that I had a blog.  The ex–with the help of some of her friends, carpet bombed me on the gofundme page and also on my blog until I figured out how to stop their being published.

That not being good enough, apparently the ex has decided she will blog about whatever she has decided to blog about, and to contact my followers.  I am very proud of the fact that I have stuck to my decision NOT to ever read a single word she types.  That part of my life is dead and buried.  Gone baby, gone.  I made it out.

buh bye

So, if you are contacted by the Ex, I am sorry in advance.  Also, I don’t need to defend who I am and what I am about.  I know how I lead my life, and who I am.  According to my poet friend the ex feels it her duty to warn all the women out here about me.  I could care less.  I addressed it once, and now it’s twice and DONE.

Just to be clear:

  • I am terribly sorry if you are harassed, you are grown enough to draw your own conclusions.  Apparently the ex is determined to tell “her” side of the story.
  • I do not blog to meet women.  If I want to meet women, I will do it locally, or on any number of dating sites for gosh sake!
  • I blog because I love to write and it is part of my recovery.  I have devoted a lot of my blog to “Passing It On,” a concept in AA that once you receive the gifts of recovery you “Pass It On”.  My life is an open book out here.
  • Please do not contact me about the ex.  I don’t need to know anything, I lived with her for 3 years, I know everything there is to know.

I have over 520 posts on my blog, and that’s just since Oct 20!  Of all those posts I posted two poems about the ex.  I have never said an unkind word, though I did illustrate pieces of my history there.  Here are my final words on this subject:

USED TO

A CALL TO ARMS

I Murdered Grief, I Slaughtered Rage

wp-1484928101125.jpgIn one of my groups here at the VA Treatment Center today, the topic was grief.  Not just grief for a lost loved one, but grief over many things in life that might have contributed to my alcoholism and my lack of appropriate coping skills.

As I sat there I drifted to my grief of the past 2 1/2 years or so; I was grieving over the loss of myself in that spiraling relationship.  Day in and day out, relentless in its destruction.  I was constantly reminded of my shortcomings, inadequacies, injustices, etc.  If it had to do with who I was, what I was, how I was, she suffocated it to death.

rageandgrief slayer on justruminating men's blogJust two examples:  She would rant that it was my fault my brother died because I let him take one more trip with his sled.   when she had no clue what she was talking about.  She blamed me for the abuse I suffered, telling me I probably enjoyed it.  Crushing.

My grief danced a dance of death with daily rage, disintegrating my will to be present.  My drinking matched my rage, which really was grief in disguise.  My self evaporated and went into full retreat, replaced instead with a body and a bottle.

Well now I have myself back.  I took it back almost the instant I left.  I took it back with a vengeance.   I haven’t had a drink since.  I let go.  I resolved my pain.  I became the slayer of grief and rage.  I murdered my grief.  I slaughtered my rage.  Strong words, but strong foes.  What was lost is now found.  This man’s cycle of addiction is broken.

I firmly believe that someway, somehow, we all must face the grief that is terrifying our minds or hearts.  We must do everything that is within our power to defeat it.  Easier said I know, but don’t let grief put one of your feet in the grave.  Fight with all your might; be the death of grief, or grief will be the death of you…