Give Me A Clue

The butler did it, in the parlor, with a candlestick. The game of Clue is a classic board game with rules, but the game of Life can be played anywhere and has no rules. Hardly seems fair. Am I getting “Hot” or “Cold”? I’m afraid some of the paths I went down were taken when my better intuition was screaming “Stop, you’re getting cold, colder, you’re frigid ….” Am I clueless or just not paying attention?

Who? The culprit is me. I’m guilty. I did the deed. I’m always right, until I am amazingly, incredibly…wrong. I’d rather blame you, but I know it’s not you, the other guy, any “other” in fact.  For many years, the truth and I rarely crossed paths. The traits I hated in you were really mine. You done me wrong and I was a victim. The problem was I rarely took responsibility, but when I did I was responsible for everyone else’s behavior towards me. I deserved it, I caused it and I had to stay until I changed it. Running the whole world was my job even when I thought I was a victim, I was just bad at it. It’s hard to be a good actor when you’re  acting in bad faith.  

Where? Anyplace that I called home. There was no geographic cure. Wherever I was I weaponized my arrogant self-hate against myself and others. My reactions and over-reactions were not tied to a spot on a map. I couldn’t outrun myself. Finally I stopped following the bread  crumbs, turned around and said “Boo!  Give me what you got.” It was a messy place for awhile, but at least I wasn’t in a witches pot being prepared for dinner. There were small towns in Iowa that I still think of as where I fell from grace. Time to forgive myself. Colorado has been my place of healing and my return to grace. 

Surely a  heavy candlestick is a good weapon, but I prefer using words.  Words do matter and can destroy an opponent without bloodshed and crime scene tape. Both sharp and blunt words can be effective weapons in taking the life out of someone’s dreams and hopes. My fingerprints can’t be lifted off a destructive rant or lie. Verbal abuse doesn’t leave bruises, but still leaves a mark on the soul. Your tears and my tears are clues a crime has taken place. And of course there’s always “Actions speak louder than words.” My betrayals were news worthy. I now know how powerful kind words are so I might not pick up the weapon of hurtful words so easily

Cue the Pink Panther and Inspector Jacques Clouseau or Sherlock Holmes. Everybody loves a good “Who Done It?” I’ll give you a clue….

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