You and I … A Letter I Can’t Send But Need to Say

I’m so sorry for wasting your time.  I mean I know that you like the attention when someone contacts you.  Then whatever the topic is you can make sure to take over about how you are and usually why someone should feel sorry for you or something.   Just as long as the topic becomes about you, right?


I can’t really recollect a time when YOU were not the focus or tried to be the center of things.   You could be proud of us girls if YOU could take the recognition.  Or if we messed up YOU could play the victim and talk for hours about all we did to hurt you or how hard things were for you.  YOU are always the shrewdest person and the rest of us are so dumb.  If we just listened to you all the time things would be picture-perfect.


These are things I know are true.  You feel this way and this seems to be the relationship we continue to echo over and over.  Every now and then I am so senseless to think, “Maybe this time will be different” or “Maybe if she watches/hears this then she will finally get it and understand me”.  When will I accept the cold hard fact that you and I are wired so differently?  You cannot or are unable to understand me.  You cannot love me the way I need you to.  Every time I try and I fail it is like another deep cut to a section of my core reserved for you both, my parents.  Each stab resulted in part of the damage to that area; some of it dying even.  Is it bad that at times I pray for it all to die?  Maybe then I just won’t care anymore.


I’m not “normal” and just happy with whatever you tell me to do.  I question things.  I evaluate, notice, meditate and attempt to obtain my own thoughts.   This is a challenge for anyone.  The bigger challenge is that I feel deeply.  My emotions seize me and course thru my veins the same way my blood pumps.  Most of the time, I catch myself and shuffle them or me away to seclusion.  Other times they escape out and I try to contain what directions they tend to stream.  That is one thing I’ve gotten good at, trying to contain things so you don’t have to deal with them hardly at all.


What I can’t I fathom things won’t change between us?  Remember time when I am waiting for surgery and because you don’t like the doctor it invasively becomes about you?  You will make your emotional state known about a past bad experience instead of trying to calm my anxieties about going under the knife.  Your pain, feelings or thoughts always dwarf my immediate situation.  Yet, I am the pronounced as the “dramatic one” by you to others. 


So again, stupidly I come to you one last time.  There had been a break and then we slowly started talking.  Sincerity was present for just a little bit.  I saw it vanish but hoped it was only due to the harsh winter.  However, I put myself out there to show you something.  Something from other people like me to maybe see if you can understand.  But, it was too much to ask.  The conversation was about you.  The task too much to ask of you to do, wasn’t it?  When I said something about it and then tried to play it off you were the one that responded in anger.   Again your feelings are the ones that have a right to be felt and I am the one that is wrong if I feel any at all. 


I find it so confusing how my parents, the people who are supposed to love me and want to understand me, are the ones who can say the most horrible things about me and to me.  I don’t know what I did to not deserve to be loved.  Someday maybe it will be clear.  However, I cannot take more anger from either of you.  I cannot be stabbed over and over when you know it is so deep. 


The only way this relationship would ever work with either of you is if I let you control me.  It would need to be all about you and never about me.  I cannot have my own emotions or thoughts that are differing to yours.  I would need to appreciate any scrap of any little experience I get from you and never ask for more. 


I can’t do this.  It aches too much all the time.  You don’t know me and don’t really care to.  I will never matter the way I want to and maybe that is not your fault.  Maybe it just is not meant to be and trying is the retribution of this life.  You can’t even begin to understand how much I feel that I would be better off if I never was a inconvenience for you.  So I’m done.  I’ve tried.  I’ve apologized.  I’ve attempted different ways to educate, explain and be open.  I even have accepted things have happened to you.  I understand why you are the way you are to a magnitude.  But, I can’t repair you.  I can try to work on me.  I can be healthier for the people who do love me.  I cannot withstand this much longer.   So I either need to walk away or let you kill me. 


I choose to walk….



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I'm turning 40 in April 2017... So much seems to have happened and changed. I guess I am feeling I should have it figured out by 40, but does anyone every really have it all figured out?

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