Where Did THAT Come From?

Striking me in the head like a ball out of left field when I'm busy cloud gazing, it whacked me a good one and made me THINK REALLY HARD. I hate when that happens, but I guess we all need a good thunk every once in a while.

I have carried an intense bias—a prejudice—against Hillary Clinton for years. It grew roots even before she took her final steps as First Lady through the White House doors but lay dormant while she occupied her Senate seat: Out of sight, out of mind. That slumber was disturbed and that insularity grew at an astonishing rate throughout her bid to walk back through those doors and once again attach herself to one of the great American icons. I could never put my thumb on WHY I felt that way about her; I could be shallow at times, having other more important personal issues to deal with besides not really giving a shit and not feeling any pressing need to analyze my "relationship" with the former First Lady, the Senator from New York. After all, I don't live there, so she's not my problem.

During the primary season, I was deeply mired in the most horrid living nightmare imaginable, and I was just plain angry—all the time. Sometimes I felt as though I were outside myself, watching some asshole invade my body, stomping and snorting like a bull on the wrong side of the fence from a cow in heat. I wallowed in self-pity, but mostly I was just pissed off—at everyone and everything, all the while dying inside at the thought of my existence as a human being—who I am, who I have been and could still be, my legacy—being erased, wiped out with a toss of the dice.

I spent a lot of time ranting against Hillary (and her look-alike wannabe, *sneering and sarcasm dripping* my very own governor, Jennifer Granwhore), poking fun at her (both of them, really, but particularly Hillary) along the way until she finally bowed out of the race. I see now that most of it was just a diversion away from the reality of my own pain...

A veritable shit storm was brewing in my life. It churned and heaved, pushed and pulled, until finally the torrent was raging past the floodgates. Much like the response to Katrina, I threw a couple of sandbags at it and ran in the other direction, shouting a mantra of "I see nothing, I know nothing." My big fat ass didn't move fast enough, though, and all hell broke loose when it finally caught up with me. By that time, I was a broken person—physically, emotionally, spiritually. I never really dealt with anything, instead tucking issues away into the "Too Bad, So Sad," "That's Life," and "Oh Fucking Well" files, shipped off to storage in the recesses of my mind.

I was nearly destroyed by the chasm that tore through my life on September 12, 2007; although healing was allowed to begin on the 143rd day, the terrorist acts directed against my person created wounds that would take years to mend—and still leaving me with a horrible, twisted scar. I was a wreck, willfully tortured to suit another's obscene pleasure.
I got angry.
I railed against the system.
I bucked and bridled.
~~I screamed and cried and pulled out my hair.
~~I sat stoic and detached, isolating myself from the world.
~~I begged and pleaded to God Almighty for release.
~~I laughed and ran in circles like a lunatic dumped rudely out the asylum window, deprived of the mind-altering drugs that life and functioning were dependent upon.

You can only run from reality for so long. She is a relentless mistress, howling in the night and stalking you through the shadows and fleeting light of your mind, invading your dreams and every waking thought, finally reaching across the distance to tap you on the shoulder and announce her arrival. She will strip you naked and flay the flesh from your bones in a gruesome testimony to her power. You have to deal with her, one way or another.

Recently those files, previously casually dismissed, managed to hitch a ride back to Central Dispatch: Plopped down in the center of my desk, open wide and demanding my attention. I was overwhelmed at the enormity of the issues I failed to deal with in my life, but I knew I must tackle them, one by one. Out of the blue, it dawned on me what it was all along that bothered me, the reason I had such a bug up my ass about Hillary Clinton.

On more than one occasion in my life (3 to be exact), my "significant other" cheated on me; while the relationships had not been marriages, it had been expressed and implied as being monogamous. I hold a promise in high regard, and I despise broken promises; if I know I cannot deliver on a promise, I will not make it, but if I do make one then I will hold to my word. I can declare, resolutely and honestly, that I have never cheated—not even on a man I was "casually dating." On the other side of that nickel, I can resolutely and honestly state that I have thought about cheating in retaliation but realizing that petty act has no meaning since he has already done the deed, was obviously not emotionally vested in the relationship anyhow, and my actions would have been moot—nothing more than further degradation of myself and my self-esteem. So I never did it. I'm an asshole, but I'm not stupid.

Here's the thing, though. Having knowledge of this foul act devastated me. Why would he do that to me? Am I not good enough for him, that he has to find what he needs elsewhere? What is wrong with me?

Or... Is he just an asshole?

In my famous manner, I picked it apart and analyzed it—methodically, rationally, and objectively. I found that the answer—and the question—is the latter rather than the former. I am who I am, and that will never change. If someone doesn't like me for who I am, tough shit. This was HIS loss, not mine. I may have been stripped of some dignity, but I still had my integrity.

Seeing Hillary appearing to do NOTHING in response to her husband's wandering dick just really pissed me off. How dare she not stand up for herself? How dare she roll over and accept this kind of behavior from a man who swore an oath before God binding himself to her for life, denigrating her with his philandering?

HOW DARE SHE?

Then I saw this video:



And I realized... We all deal with the humps and bumps in life in our own way. I have mine, and Hillary has hers. I can't say how Hillary dealt with Bill's wandering dick, obviously doing so in private (as is her right)—but dealing with it, living with it, and moving on with life. Who was I to criticize her decision to stand beside her man instead of giving him a Bobbit, stabbing him in the eye with a high-heeled shoe, or telling him on national TV to fuck off?

To be frank, I was not drawn to this video by its intended message. What grabbed me, what made me grasp the absurdity of my previous stance against her, were the still shots of Hillary Clinton, the person:
~~The young bride in the arms of a husband whose adoration of her in that moment lights his face like the rising sun.
~~The new mother facing the uncertainties of parenthood but proud of the opportunity to escort one of His little ones through this lifetime.
~~A warm and radiant and truly remarkable woman...
In many ways JUST.LIKE.ME.

I felt a connection to Hillary Clinton for who she is, what she has been and could still be.
The woman...
The wife...
The mother...
~~And her legacy.

Not the politician. Not the victim of a philandering husband. Not the butt of a bad joke.

While I cannot say that I would have voted for you, even after my revelations of late, I can acknowledge my respect for you.