‘Are you bitter’, I asked her. Treading softly. Doing my best not to inflame an already flammable situation.
‘Yes I am,my life has being wasted, I wish to Christ I’d never meet him. The life that man had put me through, you don’t know the half of it’. Trying to commiserate with her sadness, but it was hard after hearing the same old story being repeated and replayed every few days. The same negativity spewed forth with such venom.
I began to detach myself from her angry words while she spoke. I feigned interest at times, I was a reasonably good actor, after all. But I allowed my mind to drift to happier scenes, images. So as not to be drawn into such negative energy. It was the only way to keep some sanity.
Sure she had a hard life, living with a chronic alcoholic. With the crazy mind games they play. Even when they give up alcohol, unless they get psychological treatment, which did not happen here, they still have the crazy alcoholic thinking, attitudes and behaviors, just without the alcohol.
I asked of myself did I feel bitter. Yes truth be told I did. But also some sympathy for him, for his illness, but not for the way he treated her. Can I forgive him, maybe , a little. Now that I myself have been on the receiving end of his crazy making, I find myself becoming bitter too.