In the days yore when "things" were decided by smelly men carrying sharp edged metal objects and using said sharpness to slash at each other. "Betrayal" meant something, I think, different then the word does now.
Then and before, betrayal meant a nice knife between a rib and into the heart. Perhaps "Betrayal" could mean an entire legion changing allegiance in the middle of the melee. But you see the trend....in the days of yore "Betrayal" generally ended bloody.
Now we are more civilized. There are now a plethora of P.C. betrayal terms; betrayal of trust, betrayal of....well I'm sure there is a plethora. The point is that betrayal isn't as final as it once was.
To be sure there is nothing worse than betrayal. No matter how each of us defines "Betrayal" , betrayal leaves an anger unique to all other angers. "Betrayal" produces a "Are you fucking kidding me", to an incredulous "What the hell this isn't funny", and the "I could just puke." I asked those questions to myself as I tearfully walked out of the diagnosis that day.
So. I was wondering lately why I've been so extra angry. I know I need a certain level of anger to fight the Effing Evil Empire. How can you fight anything without some passion bordering on anger? Eventually a thought started to percolate. Then, like a foggy epiphany, I recognize a portion of my anger was solely because my body betrayed me.
Yep. As insane as it sounds. My anger! It's my bodies fault! My body betrayed me!
Oh I know. Some of you smile at this but truth, I struggled with this "Betrayal" for quite some time.
Then I realized that my body probably didn't wake up one morning and say "This guy is a jerk. I'm calling in the Effing Evil Empire to ... Really I thought? My body wants to kill itself because my body thinks I'm a jerk? [smarter people than I will have to figure out that last statement]
I'm not nearly as angry now.
Talk to you later
