A letter…

A visit to my therapist yesterday morning yielded more homework assignments…so here I go.

The big (scary!) task was to write HIM a letter; keeping in mind that he will probably never read it, but to write what I want him to know nonetheless.

Dearest,
I know you said you feel like I never loved you, and I understand why you feel that way, but I need you to know that that just isn’t true. I’ve loved you from the first minute I saw you, when you smiled that smile of yours at me…you know which one. The thing about the situation we are in is that it has nothing to do with my loving you, but it has everything to do with my loving myself.

I loved you every time I stood up to someone, and defended who you were and our love for each other. I loved you every time I sacrificed something for us; money, friends, time spent doing what I wanted to do in exchange for working to pay our bills, and more. But I was ok with all of that! I never held it against you, or resented you for what I had to sacrifice. However, when it became pieces of who I am that I was sacrificing, parts of what make me ME…that I wasn’t ok with.

I am strong, and strong-willed; I am smart and caring and funny; I am opinionated and firmly believe in my principles; I am beautiful from the inside out. But I’ve felt like i was losing that girl for a while now. Everything that I am has become somehow about you, and I miss me.

I told you many years ago, when we first met, that I was not ok with certain lifestyle choices I knew you liked to make. I warned you, I gave you an easy out, I said “Tell me now, I won’t be mad, but if you stay I have to be more important”…and of course you promised, I was so much more important you said, “it’s only weed” you claimed. I don’t know how to explain to you how betrayed I feel thinking about that, because it has become pretty obvious to me that I’m not more important. And I understand why, believe me I do, you have a disease…I get it. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. That doesn’t make me feel any less angry, or disrespected, or betrayed. In fact, that makes this all the harder…
It just makes the feelings I carry around because of this worse; the failure, the guilt, the “what if”s and “should I have?”s.

You told me recently that someday I’ll regret this, I’ll regret “throwing you away like trash”…well I need you to know that I already do. I regret that we got to this point, that we both made the choices we did. I regret how much this is hurting us both. But to regret something means “to think of with sorrow” or “a sense of loss”. Neither of those definitions mean I would take it back.

Do I wish I could go back in time and change things so we wouldn’t get to where we are? Absolutely. But this isn’t the movies, and they aren’t all my decisions to change.

I know that you think I’m to blame for this, you say you’ve changed and I’m the one doing this to us by not giving you another chance. Well I understand now why you feel that way. I understand that this is your normal; that you have never known any different family dynamic. But I have, and this can’t be my new family dynamic. It hurts too much.

It hurts me when you say I am not giving you a chance, because I have given you chances. It hurts me (and scares me) when you drink and become the tornado of fury that is you drunk (I know you don’t believe me, but it happens). It hurts me when you lie, and think you can do things behind my back; that feels like you think I’m too dumb to figure it out, and that hurts too. It hurts me when I feel like my feelings are so unimportant that you’d rather do what it is you want to do, and deal with me being angry later. It hurts me when you tell me I’m not really “that” sick. It hurt me when I was going through withdrawal, and knew it was because my pills had gone into your stomach, instead of mine where I needed them to be. And then it hurt me when you lied about it, and fed me half truths to get me off your back about it. It hurts me to realize that this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. It hurts me that you sat by and watched me go through withdrawal, knowing it was because of what you did, and said nothing. It hurt me every time I had to go to a social engagement alone, and make up some excuse for why you weren’t there. It hurts me to feel like people talk about that fact behind my back. It hurts me every time you left the house, because I knew you were going to buy beer, or weed, or maybe shoplift, and I had no idea if you would come home, or if I would get a call that you were in jail. It hurts me to feel like I was that unimportant to you, that you would take those risks, knowing the situation we were dealing with. It hurts me now, to come home to a house that is not a home anymore, it’s just an empty shell of the life we used to share. It hurts me to feel like I am an empty shell of that life too. I had so many plans for our life together, so many experiences I wanted to share with you, my best friend, that it hurts me to realize that all of that is gone now. It hurts me to feel that I have failed you, that I am giving up on you; and it hurts me that you feel that way too. It hurts me that because of this you will not be able to get the things you’ve been wanting and needing in your life for so long.

It just hurts, all of it. My soul hurts, and I’m not sure if or when it will stop. But this is what I need to do.

I truly hope you have changed, and that you will make yourself better because of this. I hope that you are happy again one day, and that your life becomes everything you want it to be.

I love you with all of my heart, and I will always love you…

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