The monarch we knew him to be

2016. He is who we knew he was — actually worse.

That was the tweet. And it struck a cord deep between the vertebrae and the nerve plexus. That thing sat bigly in between cartilage and bone making a painful gap that Truth Waiting To Be Faced seems to do and at the worst moment.

Gottdamn.

He is who we knew he was. The words were on repeat. Piercing each time, like the moment of pause during a sermon when the pastor says, “If you can’t say ‘Amen’, say ‘ouch’.”

It’s one of those statements that you read and know it was meant for you in so many ways. Because it was awkwardly perfectly timed, it hits a little differently against the consciousness. It lances that ego in a way that causes internal bleeding.

He is who we knew he was….

• When we agreed to the first phone call.
• When we went into business.
• When we talked to the doctors.
• When we selected the city, the apartment, the vacation, the vehicle.
• When we purchased personal protective equipment first in latex from the CVS men’s isle then as N95s from internet providers.
• When we decorated the office, the bedroom, the living room.
• When we watched the first interaction with others.
• When we cancelled the third date.
• When we vowed to walk away.
• When we accepted the second — this time written — proposal.
• When we saw consistent disappointments and overt insults.
• When we felt peace more with others
• When we watched in panic everyone’s reaction to the inaugural move-in.
• When we saw accounts stall and blessings minimize.
• When we bore the insults when others heard laughter.
• When we stood firm after each contradictions.
• When we birthed new legacies within little brown eyes and rebirthed failed projects.
• When we counted on one hand then two the number of things dying including our whole selves.

Every year, he faithfully remained true to who he was. Consistently bankrupting, condescending, narcissistic, unkind, and brutal. He was who we knew he was all along but somehow we decided to have him intimately, in leadership, with autonomy, monogamously, and with access to all treasures, secrets, and weaponry. Not, “somehow.” It wasn’t somehow a wicked fate set up by a jealous God. Nope. It was the conscientious thought we had that falsely proclaimed that whatever he did and does, we can handle it.

But we couldn’t then, and we can’t now nor anymore.

Our hearts burn and inflammation rages and cancers metastasize and viruses consume until we finally do what we knew we were to do on the day we agreed to just continue with the uncomfortable plans instead of move toward our own. We watched him be who we knew he was and still asked why did we do this to ourselves. We get enraged at the damage he’s caused when we knew he would be who he was. We even check the record to see when he was anyone different only to confirm that he never was different.

He has always been who we knew he was. What we didn’t know was that who he was would prick needles into the layers of strength that weave us.

But oh, babe! Now that we know, we will divorce this monarchy. His priesthood and dominion end whether he peacefully transfers power or kicks and screams as he’s escorted out. We will celebrate the victory! Then, at the short-lived January day of reckoning, we will begin rewiring our heads and hearts to remove every hardened speck and open, hollow wounds

left

by his hate.

by candacejsemien @jozefsyndicate