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REVENGE
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 643849" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>We do have to be wise about that.</p><p></p><p>Interesting topic, MWM.</p><p></p><p>There are so many different kinds of betrayal.</p><p></p><p>I think we suspect from the beginning how the relationships we enter into may play out. The potential, the little warning signs are there. </p><p></p><p>Perhaps the question to ask would be whether the cost was worth the things you learned or the joy you took or even, the hope you were able to believe in during the course of the relationship. Betrayal and rejection leave us vulnerable to our inner critic. We negate our own power when we feel badly that someone has judged and found us wanting, or after our trust in the social contract we made with someone has been broken.</p><p></p><p>And is that where the lust of vengeance comes from? Is it a way to pretend we could hurt them too, if we wanted to?</p><p></p><p>So vengeance would be about shame, about re-establishing some sort of psychologic equilibrium.</p><p></p><p>I like to pretend the betrayal was unmerited and unexpected, or that the relationship was flawed from the beginning, or that the other person, poor thing, is and has always been terminally socially disadvantaged.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>But none of that is really true. What is true is that there were wonderful things exchanged during the course of the relationship, or there would not have been a relationship. husband has excellent boundaries and does this sort of thing very well. He isn't hurt by disagreeable exchanges. He seems to relish them.</p><p></p><p>I am hurt by disagreeable exchanges. Then I get all stiff necked and judgmental, which is really lonely and not very bright. But there you have it.</p><p></p><p>However we define our relationships and their endings, if we could see how crazy brave we are to wish for and believe in love, or in the possibility of friendship or family or loyalty, we would be so proud of ourselves. </p><p></p><p>But maybe I am wrong about that. As I continue to heal, there will be no vulnerability and so, there will be no risk. </p><p></p><p>No vulnerability. No shame. No lust of vengeance.</p><p></p><p>So...really healthy people must not have vengeance issues.</p><p></p><p>That is how I will know I am better, then.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>While there is risk, we will heal well I think, if we can remember the love we felt for the person, rather than the shame we feel at ourselves for having been rejected and the hatred we feel at having been betrayed and made to feel small.</p><p></p><p>Or maybe that isn't true and this is all a way to cover the wish for vengeance. Who, after all, does the other guy think he is?!?</p><p></p><p>Kapow!</p><p></p><p>That is probably why superheroes generally wear disguises. It is all very well to take vengeance when no one knows its you.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Here is a thing about vengeance.</p><p></p><p><em>The lust of vengeance, all consuming</em></p><p><em>pressed of the lust of life from whence it sprang, full bodied and full blown</em></p><p><em>Curdling the love within it</em></p><p><em>ere the weakened Child be grown</em></p><p></p><p><em>A vintage rare and bitter</em></p><p><em>acid etched and acid borne</em></p><p><em>Tasting of gelded rage and rusted glitter</em></p><p><em>of candles, etched in ambergris</em></p><p><em>and of white linen, soiled and torn.</em></p><p></p><p><em>Tasting then of sage, blessed on a cold and darkling plain</em></p><p><em>and of the holy, star struck depths of Winter</em></p><p><em>Tasting of grief and hope and unrelenting pain...</em></p><p></p><p><em>Tasting</em></p><p><em>of the Mercy....</em></p><p></p><p><em>***</em></p><p></p><p><em>"The quality of Mercy is not strain'd</em></p><p><em>it falleth as the gentle rain from Heav'n</em></p><p><em>upon the place beneath.</em></p><p></p><p><em>It is twice blest;</em></p><p><em>it blesseth him that gives and him</em></p><p><em>that takes.</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Tis mightiest in the Mighty."</em></p><p></p><p>The last verses are Shakespeare, of course. From the Merchant of Venice. They always go with the recitation, wherever it happens, of those verses on vengeance. They cool the heat of the emotion, for me.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I love this.</p><p></p><p>I wrote it down to put it on my fridge.</p><p></p><p>It is a hard thing to acknowledge that whatever the connection was between ourselves and another person, it has run its course. Change is awkward. When change happens, it is our self talk that establishes, not only whether the relationship meant enough to us for a betrayal to have occurred, but what it means that a betrayal did occur. So the sentences quoted above are good self talk when KFCD begins to play in our heads. But the question of why they did that...that is why the writer tells us to practice radical acceptance. Why does not matter.</p><p></p><p>It could be that it is only me, or it could be that for all of us, the battle is to see ourselves as better than the me who was rejected by someone who knows us well enough to make that judgment call. Had we not let them in in the first place, the betrayal could not have occurred.</p><p></p><p>But, given that I was brought up in an environment where betrayal so deep it went wordless, went indescribable, was the norm...who am I really trying to forgive when I choose, when I fight to forgive, instead of taking what vengeance I can, even if it is only to think bad thoughts about my sister?</p><p></p><p>I have just gone through a crisis of faith around these very issues.</p><p></p><p>Is it possible for people to change? Or are some of us (or are all of us) playing some version of the game of predator and prey?</p><p></p><p>I feel so differently about the betrayal of an acquaintance that I do about the betrayal that occurred when difficult child daughter was hurt. That was a very hard thing to forgive. Though forgiveness was my intention, I could not forgive. I would catch myself thinking bad things about the man who did it, thinking how I would like to shame him and...destroy him, really.</p><p></p><p>Hatred, for sure.</p><p></p><p>And then, one day, those feelings that had so horrified and fascinated and sickened and thrilled me went away. Just like that.</p><p></p><p>I was so grateful.</p><p></p><p>So, there are different levels of vengeance, for sure. Part of that is figuring out who was wrong, and who was wronged. I don't have so much interest in that. We all tend to justify our positions. </p><p></p><p>This is what I think is true, for all of us:</p><p></p><p>"Once, my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities I was capable of unfolding."</p><p></p><p>Frankenstein's Monster Speaks</p><p>Mary Shelly</p><p></p><p>That is every one of us I think, in our secret hearts.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>I am into ferreting out the places where I choose the victim role. This has opened my eyes to the ways others explore either these roles, or the roles where they get to victimize.</p><p></p><p>"But...I thought you loved me." This has seemed to be the ultimate condemnation, the glittery peak of blameless victimhood for me. Lately though, I am beginning to see it like this: "I did/do love you. But I love myself a thousand times more. You are important, but I am paramount."</p><p></p><p>As I continue to heal, I am seeing that response as the appropriate response.</p><p></p><p>So much of the pain we all experience has to do with wounds that happened so long ago.</p><p></p><p>I am thinking now of the betrayal involved in what our children have done. </p><p>And deep love and regret and missing them in the present and missing who I was so sure they were going to be.</p><p></p><p>And missing who I was so sure I was going to be, through them.</p><p></p><p>OKAY. SO WHERE IS MY SUPER HERO COSTUME?</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>When trust has been repeatedly breached to the point that we are no longer able to hold faith with ourselves, or when we are powerless to stop the repeated breaches of trust, we begin to believe the shortcomings in our relationships is intrinsic to us. In our efforts to try to unravel the mess things become, we take on the roles of both villain and perpetual victim.</p><p></p><p>What a crazy thing.</p><p></p><p>"When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time."</p><p></p><p>Maya Angelou</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>I don't think the lust of vengeance is a wrongness. The intensity of those feelings of vengeance plumb the depth of the hurt we have been done. It is the belief that harm was not intended that makes it possible to forgive the other guy and ourselves and try again. We are named, and we name ourselves, in every interaction. Victim or villain or willful blindness to downright creation of a favorite and most often created and recreated, illusion. The thing dearest to our hearts; the who we need to be.</p><p></p><p>These then, are the belief systems that keep us hooked into relationships that are harmful to us.</p><p></p><p>Radical acceptance that some people will break your trust....</p><p></p><p>Isn't it true though that in relationship over time, trust is broken, again and again. The difference between ending a relationship over a breach of trust, and forgiveness and growth after a breach of trust then, is the question of intent.</p><p></p><p>So that is the sting of it. </p><p></p><p>The other person's intent.</p><p></p><p>The name they named us.</p><p></p><p>Once again, vengeance turns out to be about shame.</p><p></p><p>So, what is the opposite of radical acceptance. </p><p></p><p>Blame.</p><p></p><p>Whether we blame ourselves or the other guy, blame is a useless exercise.</p><p></p><p>So radical acceptance is about not judging.</p><p></p><p>Some people are going to break your trust.... In other words, some people are going to abuse us.</p><p></p><p>Nothing personal.</p><p></p><p>That is who they are.</p><p></p><p>Confusion over these issues is one of the damages of an abusive childhood where we have been taught we are responsible for what the abuser did.</p><p></p><p>Thank you for posting.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 643849, member: 17461"] We do have to be wise about that. Interesting topic, MWM. There are so many different kinds of betrayal. I think we suspect from the beginning how the relationships we enter into may play out. The potential, the little warning signs are there. Perhaps the question to ask would be whether the cost was worth the things you learned or the joy you took or even, the hope you were able to believe in during the course of the relationship. Betrayal and rejection leave us vulnerable to our inner critic. We negate our own power when we feel badly that someone has judged and found us wanting, or after our trust in the social contract we made with someone has been broken. And is that where the lust of vengeance comes from? Is it a way to pretend we could hurt them too, if we wanted to? So vengeance would be about shame, about re-establishing some sort of psychologic equilibrium. I like to pretend the betrayal was unmerited and unexpected, or that the relationship was flawed from the beginning, or that the other person, poor thing, is and has always been terminally socially disadvantaged. *** But none of that is really true. What is true is that there were wonderful things exchanged during the course of the relationship, or there would not have been a relationship. husband has excellent boundaries and does this sort of thing very well. He isn't hurt by disagreeable exchanges. He seems to relish them. I am hurt by disagreeable exchanges. Then I get all stiff necked and judgmental, which is really lonely and not very bright. But there you have it. However we define our relationships and their endings, if we could see how crazy brave we are to wish for and believe in love, or in the possibility of friendship or family or loyalty, we would be so proud of ourselves. But maybe I am wrong about that. As I continue to heal, there will be no vulnerability and so, there will be no risk. No vulnerability. No shame. No lust of vengeance. So...really healthy people must not have vengeance issues. That is how I will know I am better, then. *** While there is risk, we will heal well I think, if we can remember the love we felt for the person, rather than the shame we feel at ourselves for having been rejected and the hatred we feel at having been betrayed and made to feel small. Or maybe that isn't true and this is all a way to cover the wish for vengeance. Who, after all, does the other guy think he is?!? Kapow! That is probably why superheroes generally wear disguises. It is all very well to take vengeance when no one knows its you. :O) Here is a thing about vengeance. [I]The lust of vengeance, all consuming pressed of the lust of life from whence it sprang, full bodied and full blown Curdling the love within it ere the weakened Child be grown[/I] [I]A vintage rare and bitter acid etched and acid borne Tasting of gelded rage and rusted glitter of candles, etched in ambergris and of white linen, soiled and torn.[/I] [I]Tasting then of sage, blessed on a cold and darkling plain and of the holy, star struck depths of Winter Tasting of grief and hope and unrelenting pain...[/I] [I]Tasting of the Mercy....[/I] [I]***[/I] [I]"The quality of Mercy is not strain'd it falleth as the gentle rain from Heav'n upon the place beneath.[/I] [I]It is twice blest; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes.[/I] [I]"Tis mightiest in the Mighty."[/I] The last verses are Shakespeare, of course. From the Merchant of Venice. They always go with the recitation, wherever it happens, of those verses on vengeance. They cool the heat of the emotion, for me. I love this. I wrote it down to put it on my fridge. It is a hard thing to acknowledge that whatever the connection was between ourselves and another person, it has run its course. Change is awkward. When change happens, it is our self talk that establishes, not only whether the relationship meant enough to us for a betrayal to have occurred, but what it means that a betrayal did occur. So the sentences quoted above are good self talk when KFCD begins to play in our heads. But the question of why they did that...that is why the writer tells us to practice radical acceptance. Why does not matter. It could be that it is only me, or it could be that for all of us, the battle is to see ourselves as better than the me who was rejected by someone who knows us well enough to make that judgment call. Had we not let them in in the first place, the betrayal could not have occurred. But, given that I was brought up in an environment where betrayal so deep it went wordless, went indescribable, was the norm...who am I really trying to forgive when I choose, when I fight to forgive, instead of taking what vengeance I can, even if it is only to think bad thoughts about my sister? I have just gone through a crisis of faith around these very issues. Is it possible for people to change? Or are some of us (or are all of us) playing some version of the game of predator and prey? I feel so differently about the betrayal of an acquaintance that I do about the betrayal that occurred when difficult child daughter was hurt. That was a very hard thing to forgive. Though forgiveness was my intention, I could not forgive. I would catch myself thinking bad things about the man who did it, thinking how I would like to shame him and...destroy him, really. Hatred, for sure. And then, one day, those feelings that had so horrified and fascinated and sickened and thrilled me went away. Just like that. I was so grateful. So, there are different levels of vengeance, for sure. Part of that is figuring out who was wrong, and who was wronged. I don't have so much interest in that. We all tend to justify our positions. This is what I think is true, for all of us: "Once, my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities I was capable of unfolding." Frankenstein's Monster Speaks Mary Shelly That is every one of us I think, in our secret hearts. *** I am into ferreting out the places where I choose the victim role. This has opened my eyes to the ways others explore either these roles, or the roles where they get to victimize. "But...I thought you loved me." This has seemed to be the ultimate condemnation, the glittery peak of blameless victimhood for me. Lately though, I am beginning to see it like this: "I did/do love you. But I love myself a thousand times more. You are important, but I am paramount." As I continue to heal, I am seeing that response as the appropriate response. So much of the pain we all experience has to do with wounds that happened so long ago. I am thinking now of the betrayal involved in what our children have done. And deep love and regret and missing them in the present and missing who I was so sure they were going to be. And missing who I was so sure I was going to be, through them. OKAY. SO WHERE IS MY SUPER HERO COSTUME? *** When trust has been repeatedly breached to the point that we are no longer able to hold faith with ourselves, or when we are powerless to stop the repeated breaches of trust, we begin to believe the shortcomings in our relationships is intrinsic to us. In our efforts to try to unravel the mess things become, we take on the roles of both villain and perpetual victim. What a crazy thing. "When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time." Maya Angelou *** I don't think the lust of vengeance is a wrongness. The intensity of those feelings of vengeance plumb the depth of the hurt we have been done. It is the belief that harm was not intended that makes it possible to forgive the other guy and ourselves and try again. We are named, and we name ourselves, in every interaction. Victim or villain or willful blindness to downright creation of a favorite and most often created and recreated, illusion. The thing dearest to our hearts; the who we need to be. These then, are the belief systems that keep us hooked into relationships that are harmful to us. Radical acceptance that some people will break your trust.... Isn't it true though that in relationship over time, trust is broken, again and again. The difference between ending a relationship over a breach of trust, and forgiveness and growth after a breach of trust then, is the question of intent. So that is the sting of it. The other person's intent. The name they named us. Once again, vengeance turns out to be about shame. So, what is the opposite of radical acceptance. Blame. Whether we blame ourselves or the other guy, blame is a useless exercise. So radical acceptance is about not judging. Some people are going to break your trust.... In other words, some people are going to abuse us. Nothing personal. That is who they are. Confusion over these issues is one of the damages of an abusive childhood where we have been taught we are responsible for what the abuser did. Thank you for posting. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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