Today I'm feeling hatred, and I don't like it. It's dark and ugly, and makes me feel very small.
I realized over the past three days that although there are parts of my cousin that I've always loved and cherished, there are also parts that I hate. I'm certain that I've hated him for a long time, but I've never allowed myself to feel it. I'm feeling it today.
Reasons I hate the first David:
1. He betrayed me. I thought he loved me. He didn't. I thought he was my friend. He wasn't.
2. He hurt me in ways I could not understand.
3. He damaged me internally. My gynecologist told me that my uterus would never be able to carry a baby to term. She was right. The boys were both at least five weeks early. Tabitha tried to be born at 26 weeks. I was able to carry her six weeks more under constant bed rest and many days/nights in the hospital. Yesterday I held my four month old nephew. I rocked him to sleep. I hated my cousin for robbing me of healthy babies, endowing me with problems conceiving, and limiting the number I could have.
4. He gave me nightmares that don't seem to want to leave. Dreams filled with sadness and aching. Fantasies of fear, and a knowledge that I am never safe.
5. He gave me gifts. Trinkets. As if that could mend what he had broken inside of me.
6. He robbed me of my dignity and self-respect--and I am still looking for it. Perhaps it will never be found. But I want it back.
7. He took away from me the natural ability to be able to view sex as beautiful and sacred. I have to remind myself that it's a gift from God, that it really isn't violent and frightening, and that it is meant to bring me closer to my husband. Sexual expression should not make one feel sad beyond measure. It should not make one feel broken and tired. It should not stir up memories of being used and discarded. I hate him for that.
8. He left me to clean up whatever mess was made. And I did so, silently screaming about something so frightful it was beyond all endurance. And today, I am still cleaning up the mess he left behind. Only this time it's all inside me. It fills me up until there is no room left. And I have nowhere to put it--so I keep it.
9. He had no respect for me. And I finally realize that even if I had said to stop, he probably wouldn't have. I was nothing to him--and that disdain hurts incredibly. Every creature on God's earth deserves respect. I hate him for making me feel less than human, objectified, used, and filthy.
10. Because of him, I am finally feeling hate--and I think I hate him the most for this reason.
I know the answers. I know Christ takes care of it all--if I'll allow him to do so. I'm just a little overwhelmed right now, feeling something black and horrible, and praying I make it through this day.