She was on the verge of snapping, and she could feel the blood pressure rising every day that she had to bite her tongue and submit to the wills and ways of her brother’s significant other. She acknowledged that the poor girl was at a disadvantage, because she had no idea that some of the habits she had formed, mirrored those of her and her brother’s mother, placing them at a higher standard of annoyance to begin with. However, she possessed traits that she would never claim her mother had, unless she was seeking to cut her mother deep with words that would sting and burn for years, in a moment of uncontrollable rage. She was not proud of her ability to see other’s insecurities plainly and have the vocabulary to throw it back in their faces, and watch as her words destroyed the spirit of the person who stood in front of her. It was a vicious mental self-defense mechanism which only emerged when she felt like she had been taken advantage of and tortured for quite some time. She could not help when those instinctive words and angry thoughts overtook her mind, and she lashed out in a desperate attempt to prove her strength and point out the wounds they had inflicted. She could remember countless times when she had done this to her undeserving, loving mother – the tears streaming down her face, screaming at the top of her lungs, praying that each vicious word would push her mother to the point of landing a palm across her daughter’s face, so she would have an excuse to leave the house and justification for all the ugly, angry words that she had thrown in her mother’s face. But her mother, being the saint she is, never allowed that to happen. She accepted her daughter’s anger with steadfast love. Maybe that’s why she was the only person she allowed herself to truly get angry with. And that’s why she knew that if she allowed herself to reach that breaking point with her bother’s girlfriend, there would be no forgiveness, because the poor girl did not know what violent, unconditional love was in the first place.
Her brother’s girlfriend had admitted that she did not have many girl friends and the ones she did make she struggled to keep. As an honorary “Bro” herself, she sympathized with the difficulty to connect with women and offered her friendship as an olive branch from their sex. However, she now understood why the poor girl never could keep women by her side, it was because she did not know how to keep anyone by her side. Even her claimed allegiance to males was falsely perceived, as she had few men who would stand by her side besides her boyfriend. She often chose selfishness over friendship, and that was her true struggle. She was incredibly aware of herself, to the point of being blinded to the presence of those around her. Being of a forgiving nature, she had been willing to accept this character trait, as her brother seemed to place value in this woman with no friends. She understood that everyone was different, raised in different environments, and molded by different factors. Maybe she had to think of herself first because no one else ever did when she was young. Or maybe she had been trained to guard herself closely because she had been burned one too many times in the past. Or maybe, and this was her sinking suspicion, the thought to think of others first had never even occurred to her in the first place. She understood that not everyone could have the same mindset as her, always putting the needs of her family first and being willing to sacrifice anything for their happiness. This was a extremely unique principal, instilled in her through her experience with tragedy at a young age. But she had a feeling that her brother’s girlfriend had never once thought of someone else’s needs before hers. Even her decision to join the Peace Corps had been driven by a personal desire to run away from her life in America versus helping others. How was she justified in this aggressive claim of judgment? Because she could feel it in her soul. She had an ability to read people, and feel them, and she could feel that this poor girl did not know what unconditional love of herself or others truly was. She had never felt the pangs of a heart separated from family. She had never cried tears of joy upon being reunited with a familiar embrace. She had never considered leaving this world, and being brought back with a slap from the hand that had been outstretched in an offer to save her. The poor girl had never seen her own soul, and until she did, she could not share it with others.
The anger that had been building inside of her had now evolved into a pang of guilt, as she had so harshly judged someone who did not know what her standards of judgment were in the first place. She could not blame the poor girl for living in such a shallow state of existence, the choice to descend into a deeper level of living can only be made by one individual. She had reminded herself that she could not be angry with someone for not being on her level of existence or experience. She felt the guilt wash over her, as if she had just laid hands on an innocent child. What she was truly angry with was the situation that she found herself in, and her inability to do anything at all to fix it. She was saddened that her brother, who had a soul that she saw to be oceans deeper than her own, was attached to one that was so devoid of depth. She was frustrated that in order to reconnect with her brother, she had to endure the presence of someone who she did not see value in. And she was angry that that poor girl had revived the streak of anger that she had worked so hard to suppress and control after years of practice with her mother. She wished that she could let loose, and trust her to forgive the way any of her lifelong best friends would, but she knew that would not be the case. She knew that she would be the end to the poor girl’s relationship with her brother, and she could never forgive herself for making that decision for him.