Vengeance Is Mine, I Will Repay

The Archangel Michael, by Pedro Garcia de Benabarre, at Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

Things puzzle me recently. You hate me and I hate you, you love me and I love you. Perhaps relationships don't work in such a reversible way. But who am I to judge. I am not a hater, not a lover, but a stranger curious and confused.

I was nice and kind, genuinely honest if you know what it means. I treated people with compassion and in my heart there was no space for other emotions. Rage, anger, frustration could never grow upon the fertile soil. My conversations with people started with respect and continued in resonance. I smiled, I laughed, I cried with them like they were part of me that got split long ago.

Yet something changed at a point. Negative emotions squeezed in little by little. How, I still don't understand, did I become an honest but not genuine person. I smile to people regardless of what they say. I give them my compassion and sympathy. But when I am alone recounting my interactions afterwards, I have to painfully admit my gifts to others are not real. I am a good faker and nobody sees through that, except me. I betray myself, but I have to admit my betrayal.

I guess this is not totally my fault. It is a result of encountering bitter people. There was one person I talked to who had a traumatic childhood. His father was never around and papa imposed strict principles on him. At first he achieved all papa's expectations out of his duty. But as how all the bad things rolled, he was compelled to set high goals for himself and he forced himself to accomplish them. He wanted to become his successful papa, but he never realised this fact. He tried hard - he repressed himself and turned himself into a machine. Work, work, work as a train that only knows how to chichang, chichang, chichang.

It was quite sad and I felt bad. I would feel his sadness and impotence, and I would turn these emotions into mine - this was how I generated my genuine honesty. But soon the problem came, my compassion was mixed with my own helplessness in the situation. I could not escape his sadness. His high expectations of his listeners required my full immersion in his sadness. I had to feel guilty for his past. I had to repay for what he had gone through.

One day he said he wanted to commit suicide. I sat there and felt responsibility smashing on my head. I looked to him and told him how bad I felt for his past and that he did not deserve all the sadness. I was the one who deserved to be punished because of my happiness. He smiled.The other day he said he wanted to hurt himself. He could not feel anything but rage and chaos running in his head. Physical damage would save him. I sat there and told him to release himself a little from his duties. I was the one who should carry all those heavy burdens because I was happy. He smiled.

Guilt piled up as demands increased. He became unpredictable. He shared his happiness as he liked, but at the same time he revealed his aloofness. Soon I found out this was not about capriciousness, but it was his attempt to hold on to something firm so he could leave his sadness there. He wanted me to become part of him that took on his sadness, simply because I was too happy and I deserved some gloomy clouds. I looked at him and I smiled. I told him I felt his emotions and I kept saying yes as he talked.

A lot of people think that psychoanalysis is used to solve people's mental pains. Yes, it is true, but it does not justify any sadness in life. Solving problems and justifying causes are two different things. People's haplessness is compassionable, but it does not imply that their holding onto others is right. On the other hand, psychoanalysis should be used to understand people's behavior and to say I feel ya when appropriate. Compassion with total dedication is useless in saving one from his miserable life. No matter how hard you try to pull a person from the marsh, he would still sink if he does not try to get out on his own. What is worse is that he would try his best to drag you down too. Betray yourself and let your hand go.

Seeing him sink horrifies me. But a little fire lights up inside my heart. I cross my finger and sharply look into the marsh, a guilty pleasure originates and it confuses me.