It’s become a joke between Gary and me that when things are going well for us, when we are happiest, the axe is just waiting to fall. Let us enjoy some peace together, and the next day there will be a nasty hate-gram from his ex’s lawyer practically chewing a hole through our mailbox. Let us laugh too much, enjoy each other too much, and voila, bitchy emails are piling up in his in-box. A good weekend with the kids? Presto, another motion filed at the courthouse to stuff an already overflowing case file!
It finally occurred to me: this is not coincidence at all.
It reminds me of the scene in the movie Fight Club, when Jared Leto’s good-looking character, Angel Face, is beaten beyond recognition, and the man who beat him says afterward, “I wanted to destroy something beautiful.”
Our happiness is a reminder to petty, childish, selfish, and most of all, jealous individuals that their scratching, clawing, and biting has failed to destroy us. Our happiness is a flipped middle finger to every lie told about us, every attempt to turn the kids against us, the absurdly lame attempts to turn us against each other that would be comical if they were not so insanely pathetic. When the kids display their affection for us, every elaborate storyboard constructed to portray us as horrible, worthless individuals crumples, and obviously this leaves the weavers of such tales thrashing in miserable fits.
The sieges that are launched in retaliation to our refusal to succumb to negativity and spitefulness end up having an opposite effect as desired. Gary and I lean on each other, help each other, wrap ourselves in each other even more to blot out the ugliness screaming at us outside the door. We long ago decided that if our relationship fails because we simply couldn’t make it happen, that is fine; but walking away from each other simply because of the jealous rages of others is not, and will never be, an option.
Lately we have been enjoying our time together, planning a trip with the kids, getting ready for the kids being home with us for a week for part of their summer vacation with us. When the bitchy emails started, when the “I told on you, nya nya nya” reports to this-or-that department started yet again, when the refusal to negotiate and work anything out like an adult kicked in yet again, I wasn’t surprised at all.
Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, the highly predictable howling and screeching of someone who, in effect, is saying: “If you are happy, it makes me angry. I am nothing, and I can’t stand that you are loved and in love, with a full life that has nothing to do with me. I can’t handle my feelings in an adult manner because I lack that depth of maturity, so I am going to hurl myself on the floor, scream, yell, and have a world-class temper tantrum to try to bring you down to my level.”
To be completely hollow inside, to have nothing to live for but sniffing out what someone else is doing in their personal lives, to have nothing to occupy one’s thoughts but the next crazy-ass attempt to score a hateful point against someone at any cost, is an empty, pitiful way to live. I don’t feel sorry for this individual, mind you, as it is a willful choice to live this way.
More regard for how such actions impact the kids would be nice, though.
The latest temper tantrum is in full swing! Anyone with pride or class would be mortified to show their ass so frequently, but when someone has nothing of any worth to fall back on, I suppose they are forced to rely on their vast stash of emotional decay, wildly flinging poo like an irrate monkey at the zoo, until something sticks.
By the way, if you have ever wondered why monkeys fling poo when they are mad, wonder no longer! According to WikiAnswers, the monkey uses feces as a readily-available weapon with which to annoy or threaten.
And that, my friends, sound very familar, doesn’t it?