Hate is Harsh

Hate keeps us in the place we didn't want to be in the first place

There I was having to answer my own question, why is my jaw hurting again? Not only have I been grinding my teeth like before, but hate has a hold on me, again. It's been some years, but not long enough. A familiar pain revealed itself, as if getting punched dead in the face.

If you've ever been hit or had an accident where your head is involved, it's a startling flash of light, temporary blindness, confusion, and undeniably searing yet numbing pain. You come to, and realize you have just been hit hard! It's confusing at first. A shock. Then when reality kicks in, anger is almost automatic. At least it was for me.

The last D-Day was no exception. The first one was a train wreck and a domino effect of doom in years to come. Essentially, nothing ever got fixed the first time. All I did was hate and deepen my bitterness, lashed out at every opportunity I saw, and I committed to release my fury on him. For all the commitments and sacrifices and devotion and loyalty I've ever shown him, (because that's who I truly am) he knocked me out with betrayal. A familiar rage overcame me. Because of who I am and what I have gone through in life, I refused to stay down, and thus his ensuing actions felt like he was stepping on my neck as I lay shattered on the ground, to prevent me from rising from this nightmare. I could swear he was there laughing at my demise, every moment he was with her, with them. My teeth clench at the recollection. I remember how hurt was transformed into bitter anger and despise and disgust, and with pride mixed in, I thought that all I needed was to see him suffer my wrath. As long as I was feeling anything, he would remember his sins, and I'd make him regret it every chance I got. It was an ugly few years. Talk about him getting beat down, shamed, ridiculed, disrespected and just plain robbed of forgiveness and denied of grace.

Hate is so harsh. I honestly don't know how we stayed together years after our first D-Day, which happened right after we found out I was pregnant. It took time for him to cut ties with his affair partner, even after he cried to her on the phone that they were over, in front of me! He changed his number, and yet the first person he gave it to, was her! Betrayal is ugly. Addiction is ugly. Hate is ugly. This was just so darned disgusting. But hate kept me company. It burned in my bones. Why could I not easily let go? I had to somehow, someway make him feel how I felt. We got a house together and tried to create the illusion of a normal life, but it was like a slow death. Nightmares plagued me, mistrust of his whereabouts and constantly checking in were tiring. But he was crafty. A liar is good at deceit and sneakiness. He also knew how to live a separate life. No matter how hard my pain drove me to control everything and him, he still found his way. You could say he was a professional at lying and manipulation.

Our last D-Day happened several years later, and at that point, I was numb. My old buddy Hate was back, and hate does not forget. Hate can actually mutate. It transforms meticulously, like a kaleidoscope. My hate grew tenfold, so exponentially destructive that it almost scared me. Just remembering that hate, even now, brings up that same nausea, that toxicity that needs to come out. Hate. It's so powerful and damaging and drives and runs quickly through our being. It brings no life. It brings no clarity. It's blinding and brutal and dark and deep and lonely. Hate tears things up and breaks things down. Hate destroys. Hate keeps us in the place we didn't want to be in the first place. It's like trying to bury the pain away, yet burying ourselves without realizing it. Hate made me sick, gave me nightmares, prolonged the hurt, and I began to not recognize who I was anymore. I was so busy hating, I wasn't healing. The last D-Day brought it all crashing down.

From the pit of my hatred, I opened my eyes and looked up, seeing clearly for the first time that God was my only hope, my salvation. There was no other way out of Hell without His help. I opened my Bible to 1 John 2:9 (NLT) which says, "If anyone claims, "I am living in the light," but hates a fellow believer, that person is still living in darkness. 1 John 2:11 (NLT) "But anyone who hates a fellow believer is still living and walking in darkness. Such a person does not know the way to go, having been blinded by the darkness." And blind I had been. Blinded by hurt I refused to accept, blinded by pride that kept me from healing. I walked aimlessly in the dark, moved by nothing but the agony of hate. And I didn't want to live that way anymore.

I read on. 1 John 2: 10 (NLT) says, "Anyone who loves a fellow believer is living in the light and does not cause others to stumble." Meaning, I can be freed from it all and accept that Jesus' blood washes all of this clean. I resolved, my hate can and will be transformed. So I chose God over hate. With His help, I found hope. I received healing. I learned to love again, to forgive, and with His grace, to live again.

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