Now that I’ve gotten in touch with the hatred I never knew I felt, it’s as if Pandora’s box has opened.
In this morning’s loving-kindness meditation, I discover a wellspring of hate in my heart… Years of unexpressed humanity, hidden in the Sunday School expectation that I be “better.”
But you can’t ignore hate or suppress it or cover it up. You have to feel it, just like every other emotion, especially if you want it to move along.
So I better get started, and it’s the perfect time. The moon is full. I’m a peri-menopausal woman. And I’m pms-ing.
The two black girls in crisp blue collared blouses who pinched me when I got in line for our first day in kindergarten.
My Nana for giving my stuffed animals to the Rummage Sale. (I don’t give a shit if it was for a good cause.)
The little monitors that hang over dressing rooms which beep every time you pass by.(These may be my breaking point.)
Mothers who practice foreign languages with their three-year olds in quiet cafes as if they were on a stage.
Parents who make every moment a teachable one as if they are on stage, “Johnny, how many oranges did that woman put in her basket?”
Baby showers and wedding showers and most polite occasions requiring uniform attire, smiles and gifts.
My mother for enduring two crappy relationships and blaming it on the man.
Everyone who is still smoking after it killed my mom.
Violence against women.
Movies that make me cry
Books that make me cry
All the suffering that comes from hatred
People who smile, but hate you (Am I one too?)
to be continued…
Kelly Salasin, April 2012
Here’s the link to the first post on hate: I Hate You