Sometimes, I write the things I can never find the courage to say out loud. Sometimes, it’s to the person I wish to communicate with, and sometimes it just ends up here on my blog where the person I am talking to will never read it. If it’s the former, then I get to say what needs said, and I get feedback on it without the intimidation of having to hold eye contact, and that’s a good and satisfying thing. I’ll note for the record that I have been known to chat or text someone I am sitting right beside for just that reason. If it’s the latter, then all that I accomplish is letting the emotion out so that it no longer eats away at my insides, like that greek god who had his liver eaten out every day by the birds, only to have it grow back over night. Endless agony, that. So, here we have the blog, which functions as a pensieve when I need to empty my mind, and a series HAVC filters when I need to empty my heart to someone who would rather not listen. Tonight, it is a filter.
Dear One to Whom This Should Be Addressed,
Today, I stopped by your house for about the thirtieth time and you did not even acknowledge my presence by coming out of your little hidey-hole. I know you heard me there, because there is no real wall to the room you were in. When did we reach the point that I am such a non-person to you that I do not merit even a hello? Or should I say, when did we reach that point again?
And why? Why do you reject me so, when all I have ever wanted since I was 9 years old is for you to love me? Do you even realize…..no, I guess you don’t. But that’s what I wanted. I was always second best then, and I knew it. You probably think you tried to make it equal, but it wasn’t. I never felt approval from you. Ever. You never once said “good job” to me. Not when I made straight A’s. Not when I made varsity. And I forgave it, because I know you have never been one to express good things to anyone.
You didn’t give me advice when I was growing up, and needed your guidance about boys and college and all that stuff. In fact, I remember the one piece of advice you ever gave me unsolicited. I was grown and you told me, “Don’t go up to the prison this weekend, there’s gonna be a big drug bust.” And I didn’t go. One piece of advice over three and a half decades and two failed marriages.
Now, I am about to talk about the thing that really hurts. And maybe I am reading this all wrong, and I hope I am, because, Dear Lord, it breaks me. Breaks me. To the point that I am crying AGAIN as I type, just as I cried last night. When I came home in 2001, things were different between us. That other girl in your life was really showing her butt and I got to be the special one for awhile. I loved it. Absolutely loved it. I got to be loved, finally, by the man who was absolutely the most important to me in all the world.
And then, I kicked my husband out of my house for reasons that I have shared with you, reasons that should have turned your stomach, and you quit even looking at me. I needed you so. I NEEDED for you to hug me and tell me it would be okay. That you would be there for me, that you understood. I NEEDED you, and you abdicated. And then, after awhile, for awhile, you looked at me again, but barely spoke, and I chose to again just let it go. That was your way, after all. Silent. Brooding. Disapproving. I guess I figured you were just “in a mood” again, until this past weekend.
That other girl, she’s back in your life again. And I am so glad for you and for her. I really am. And I hope that you will be very happy together, as you should be. She is yours after all, and you are hers, and that is right. But I am going to tell you this: it never occurred to me during that time that I got to be precious that I was merely a substitute for her and that you would kick me to the curb like yesterday’s newspaper when she quit showing her ass and decided to treat you with the love and respect that I have had for you all along. Nope, not even those time when I tried to take you somewhere or do something with you and you put me off in case she showed up. And then she didn’t. For years.
But she is here now. I remember those years I lived away from here and she lived just an hour away and yet you saw me and my kids more than you saw her and hers. And do you know what else I remember? I remember that you have been to hear her sing twice in the past month (though I am told that the first time was a funeral and so doesn’t count), even though you had to drive a distance to do it. And I am remembering that I sang every Sunday for four months not three minutes from your house and you never bothered to come hear me. In fact, the only time you’ve ever heard me sing, you hollered at me to turn the radio down. Just for the record, there was NO RADIO that day, sir. It was just me and my hair dryer.
And now, there is another complication. You’ve been so rude to my friend that I am ashamed and embarrassed. Just as you were rude to him and others so long ago. And it’s uncalled for. It’s mean. Now that I never pegged you for. Cold, yes. Callous, sometimes. But never mean. Never so mean that when asked point blank to be nice to someone, you would sit in a corner and hide rather than speak. Of course, that’s much better than sitting in the living room ignoring him as I tried to introduce you. I know you had a headache, but seriously. I introduced you to someone who stuck out his hand to shake yours and . Thanks.
So, I am thinking about what to do. And I am considering that it would maybe be easier to teach myself not to love you than to continue to be hurt by you. I’m sorry I ….failed you in some way, because clearly I have. And I am very, very sorry that your heart isn’t big enough to hold us both. I am sorry you think you have to choose and I am sorry I lost. Again. But I am worth so much more than what you are giving me. I am worth more than being ignored and being embarrassed and being forever the second choice.
I won’t say anything to you, you know. I learned strong and silent from the best of the best. But I am gonna start retraining my heart as regards you, and I sincerely and truly hope that you wake the heck up before my lessons are complete.
That hurts just reading it, so I can’t imagine living it. So sorry for you. I love you and you are sooooooooooo worth loving.
Love you, too, ‘Chelle.