Villain!

You know the cliché of a Hollywood villain? His hair is black and slicked back. His nose is perhaps a bit too pointy. He is a mustachioed man whose mere presence makes you cover your wallet. He is cunning and crafty.

  I am become a villain! Muwahaha!
 
  When I woke up yesterday I wasn't. The day started out much like any other: Have some breakfast, read a devotional, drink some coffee, enjoy a smoke...... It was an average day.

  My life is filled with such days. I work hard, I play well, I love on people, and I just try and get by. For four years my life is relatively mundane. Working and paying bills seems to take up an inordinate amount of time, but my recovery depends upon my faithfulness to being current with both.

  So when I saw the letter from my ex's attorney, my heart fell out. He painted me as a man who refuses to pay my share of taxes and won't support my child going to college. Suddenly, with the stroke of an attorneys pen, I had become a villain!

  It isn't really much of a surprise. Divorces have a way of making people use harsh words. Divorces don't happen unless a degree of hatred can be maintained. That's just the way it is.

  But I was hurt. The last four years I have spent trying to repair the wreckage of the previous years. For four years the bills have been paid and I have faithfully given extra for my daughters when asked.

  I am not seeking to justify myself or drag people over to my side of the street. My side of the street is filled with years of wreckage. I have been busy shoveling my own dung up, I don't need to fling poo. I just need to share my hurt.

  So, how do you become a villain? Get in recovery, try and rescue your marriage, watch everything dissolve, and voilà.... You too can become a villain. All it takes is a little hate.

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   Let's shift gears and have me ask you a couple questions. Did I just take it too far? Was I been fair? Am I portraying myself as holier than thou?

  Again, I don't want to be justifying myself. I am plenty screwed up!

  I feel wrongfully attacked. I want to yell. I want to cry.

  A temper tantrum would feel really really good!

  Oh man, can you imagine how great that would be, laying on my stomach, pounding the floor with my fists, and screaming out obscenities! Yes, please!

  Where could I do that without looking like a fool? Is that what I am doing by writing about all this stuff? If writing about that stuff is throwing a tantrum, its not working very well!

  I want my throat to be sore.
  I want my fists to hurt.
  I want to go sulk in my room.
  I want dad to tell me to suck it up you little baby.
  OK, maybe not the last one!
  I want to rant and rave.
 
  In short, I want this damn divorce to be over. I wish it didn't have to become a personal attack. Why can't she be amicable? Somebody make this stop already!

   Arrrgggghhhh
  Pound pound pound
  Kick kick kick

  Nope, words didn't quite do it. I gotta call someone and scream for a while. I better warn them before I start.