Once again the Grim Reaper came to remind us that life is a privilege; not a guarantee.

As I already know, death and loss is always very triggering for me. It triggered my mental breakdown and it’s always thrown up difficult, overwhelming and complicated feelings.

This time was no different in that sense. But it was in a very different sense.

I shouldn’t find it surprising really, when someone I know (whether I love them or loathe them) dies. I should know by now, to expect some kind of unknown reaction to death. And it is nothing about who that person is, it is what that person represented, to me personally.

Somebody I knew passed rather suddenly recently. And at first there was shock. Then there was a sense of sadness. Then there was a little bit of anger. And I couldn’t shift this really nagging, uncomfortable reaction. I hadn’t seen or spoken to this person in years. We generally “got on” with one another and then a big rift developed and we never spoke again. So why all of a sudden am I so angry that this person died?

I am not angry with them. I am angry at what they represented to me. Took me a little longer than normal to work this one out. But, I will try to keep it simple.

The person who died, represented a sense of injustice in me. I had been betrayed by them, and their death meant that their secrets and lies had gone to the grave with them. And one thing I hate with a passion is lies and those who tell them.

Of course, lies are the very foundations of any abusers ground work. The people who abused me in my lifetime lied every minute of every day. To themselves and the world. It makes sense that I hate liars so much. People lie to cover their own tracks. Even if it means shitting on everyone else around them. So it should also make sense that when someone who lied to me dies, it could tap into my own feelings. In fact I know that’s what happened. But it took a little longer for me to work it out. Because…

The way this person betrayed me wasn’t massive. Yes they lied to me, but it wasn’t personal to me. And if it wasn’t personal to me, why oh why would it be playing so much on my mind. Why is this person suddenly here, throwing things up in the air when I barely knew them?

It was never about them. It was about me. It didn’t matter who the person was; it was about what they represented in my mind. They represented a liar; when they died, so did their lies. And if the lies are dead, nobody will ever know any different. And that, is injustice. THAT is what they represented. My sense of injustice.

So how the hell do I deal with that?

Kinda hoping for a light bulb moment. Have had one while writing this, but still lots to figure out so I shall no doubt be back for more 💜