Good morning! I am having some difficulty gathering my thoughts this morning. Emotionally, I know I am expending way too much energy on things I cannot change, which has left me feeling sad and depleted inside.
When I feel like this, I write letters, to get my thoughts and feelings sorted out. It helps me to sort myself out before trying to sit down and sort it out together, with someone else. My letters have been my heart poured onto paper, for those that I cared enough about, to try to save things.
I have realized that most of my letters have not been responded to, or if they have, I could tell almost instantly, by the response, that they were not read in the same energy and intention that I wrote them in.
I always thought that I would love to receive one of my letters, that I would love to be loved so much, by someone who wasn’t necessarily in a good place with…that they took the time to try to tell me how they felt. That is what I always thought, and yet, somehow, I don’t think people really like my letters. As much as I love to write, my letters have fallen on deaf ears and hearts that have already moved on. I know that the letter in my head now, will be no different…
Here’s the thing, I am going to fucking write it anyway…to everyone who I need to write it to…I won’t use names, so if you think I’m writing to you, maybe I am. I am not calling anyone out, there is no need, as I am only doing this as a healing practice for myself. I am going to sit here, right now, and I am going to write this letter, for myself, to cleanse my heart and to clear this space for the amazing things coming into my life…amazing things that need some room to breathe and move around.
Asking for love and light, positivity and healing as I write to get it all out, rather than holding it inside, where it is proving to be very destructive to me and my very determined heart…determined to heal and to set free that which no longer serves me…and off we go…
To whom it may concern,
I am writing you this letter, as a means to communicate my feelings to you. Sadly, in person, we have lost the ability to see one another, to hear one another and to hold loving space for one another.
I will say that I write every single word, from the most loving place. I write, for you, my truth, which may or may not be your truth. I understand and accept that your experience of all of this is very different from my experience, and I am not here to judge your experience or to tell you what to do.
I am here to tell you that because of the things you are doing and because you are doing them with absolutely no consideration of me, I am not going to continue standing here, in a place that I cannot stand to be in, watching and feeling things that I cannot stand to feel and watch. I have always stayed because I was supposed to stay…and I realize how ludicrous that really is…that I am supposed to stay anywhere that causes me such pain and discomfort…
So, with that “supposed to” addressed, I no longer need to stand here, and given the view, I no longer want to stand here…given what it is doing to my heart, I must leave here, simply to save myself.
Your life is yours to live and I only want for your happiness, for your heart and your life to be full…for you to smile again…so please, know that your happiness means more to me than my unhappiness. I am not writing to you to begrudge you your happy. I am writing to claim my own happy.
My own happy does not exist in this place with you, where I have become both invisible and disposable. I cannot find happy in the actions that you have taken and that you are taking. Actions that have threatened my safety and my security and my experience of my own loss…of my own grief and pain and endless despair.
The selfishness of your actions and your inconsideration for my heart, my endless tears and my attempts to be happy and whole again…has left me feeling very sick inside. My heart aches, literally aches…watching the shit show…as I sit front and center, chained to my fucking seat…I am paralyzed and cannot move, so I will close my eyes as tightly as I can and pray that I don’t see…
There must be such liberation in the fact that you really don’t have to call me anymore. You don’t have to do anything, not anymore…
I drove by your house last night…I won’t lie. I had hoped I would muster the courage to stop, but I did not. I kept driving, crying like my heart was literally ripping apart, away into the dusk. I cannot go there anymore and my heart knows this, and so we didn’t stop.
I woke up his morning, still hurting so deeply…and feeling so discarded and thrown away…and that is when I realized that my words have fallen on deaf ears. My words and my pleas and my pain…all wasted, because you, figuratively and literally cannot hear me.
Lucky for us both, my lifetime has prepared me for this…although if I am to be totally honest, nothing in this fucking world could have prepared me for this. My life experiences, however, have given me some great practice recovering from being discarded and thrown away.
I won’t lie, it feels odd and uncomfortable to be in this place with you and it hurts me like nothing has ever hurt me before, to be so alone…so very, very alone…next to someone who was one of the only reasons that I never thought I would ever be alone.
I do not write to blame or to point fingers. Surely, my failure to be someone worth holding onto must be to blame for all of this. So many times…so very many times, I have probably been at fault, to blame, I have been wrong…and I don’t doubt that for a moment. I will say though, that I haven’t gotten feedback or constructive criticism, just a really good view of people’s backside, as they walk away from me…which has done absolutely nothing, to help me to grow and evolve and do better..
The emptiness that the backside of you leaves for me is seemingly intolerable (there’s that word again-intolerance, intolerant, intolerable…) and I don’t want to watch and yet, I cannot not watch, so I watch you until you completely fade from my sight…
Gone from my sight…just like my Mom…just like so many people before…and yet, this hurts just like it was happening for the very first time…it always hurts, like the very first time, when I dig myself out from under all of the trash and see the never ending walls stretching up to the sky…I know that I have been thrown away again…this view, is from the bottom of the trash can, with all of the other unwanted, undesirable and remains of what someone else threw away.
I was actually told once, after a nasty and very abusive and hurtful end to a relationship, that she had finally decided to throw her trash out to the curb, where it had always belonged. I definitely got the picture and I’ve never been able to get rid of that picture or the way it feels, to literally be thrown away, like trash, that no one wants.
So here I am, at the bottom, looking up to find the light. Like I always do, I am making some amazing friends down here. I am meeting my people down here and we are going to rise again, from the bottom of this fucking trash can!
Growing up, I loved to watch Sesame Street…those guys were my friends…and I loved Oscar the Grouch and his trash can…I will never forget on one episode, they invited us into his home, his trash can…I have built mine along the same lines…and I am often mistaken for a grouch also…I am not a grouch really. I am just really hurt and I am really tired of being discarded by the very people that I love the most.
I open my trash can with my head too, so I can peek out, without being noticed. I can pretend that I’m not home when you knock, because I know you won’t open the lid…you just don’t have it in you, do you?
Like so many…”you were long gone….too much heavy history”…Once it’s in the can, shut that lid down tight…we do not want that rifraff in the room…keep that trash contained and compacted down…because that trash does not belong out here with us. It never has and it never will.
The abuse that began so early in my life…abuse that set me on a path of not being enough…being too much…being indestructible and disposed-of…displaced and misguided…misunderstood and socially awkward…this abuse took the place of the nurturing and safety in my formative years, that I so desperately needed, to become a self-sufficient and worthwhile human being.
While others were being cuddled and cradled and held and kissed and loved, like a verb…I was being kissed and touched and touching things that made me feel weird…scary and uncomfortable things…and awful noises and tastes and smells…
While others were cooing and crying and hugging their Moms breasts, I was inappropriately learning how to pleasure yours…
So, now 44 years later, from the depths of my trash can, I am making a promise to myself…that I will never, for any reason, ever…pass this way again.
My Ohana…My girl and our love for each other will be the reason that I emerge, one last time, from the pits of hell, where I have been tossed aside and left for dead, by the very person that I always thought I was their jewel…a diamond in the rough, if you will…
So, I finally, after many years of living outside the comfort of my trash can, have been tossed back in…and what a fucking mess it is in here…I am going to clear a place on my bed and I am going to lock my lid from the inside, and I am going to crawl under the covers and I am going to rest, until I figure out what to do next.
My phone will be off…not just the ringer, I am turning my phone off. No vibrate, no text…no calls or social media…I am going into hibernation. It’s all good, you don’t call. You don’t write and you don’t text and you never open the lid of the trash can you put me in…so good for us both, I suppose…
I will re-emerge, after my long rest and retreat…after I replenish myself and after I spend enough time in here, to really, really let it all go…I will be back.
You probably will not recognize me…most people probably will not recognize me…I will finally recognize me though, and that is all I can hope for, that I still love me and recognize me and want me, after this very brutal trip back into the trash can.
So, in conclusion, and almost 2000 words later, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I could not have had the clarity that I needed, the realization that I needed to grasp, I mean really grasp…the impact that horrific abuse and negligence and elephant sized mounds under the rug, have impacted me and my life and who I am and how I feel…and what I want…
I have never not loved anybody that threw me to the curb, with their trash. On some level, I must get that I look a lot like trash to you…something unworthy, unsocialized, unfit…undeserving…something that you are done with and something that no longer serves you…here is the thing though…I am someone, not something. I am, because you are and you are, because I am…and nothing changes that…not even the fact that you tossed me in and tightlu closed the lid…truth will find it’s way to the light and I will, for once and for all, I will emerge from the darkness.
I will always be a part of the darkness and I am okay with that, for the light cannot be without the darkness…I will be the tiny light, way off in the distance…slowly, but surely, coming back to life…battered, beaten and broken…and coming to life…
I resist. I survive. I love. I am love. I am not too much. I am enough. I am worthy. I am someone. My feelings matter. I am important. I am safe. I am okay. I am someone special. I matter. My feelings matter. My heart is beautiful. I am love.
As always, I write to heal me. I blame no one, not my Mom, not my Dad…I forgave them lifetimes ago for not knowing what they did not know, for not being able to protect me…I don’t blame the people who threw me away…blessed be the journey for us all…we know better…we do better…and so it is.