To You

To You,

I think I’ve finally come to a place of acceptance. It feels like acceptance because I’m not writing this letter in an email to you. I’m not hoping that you’ll read it. I don’t need you to read it in order for me to move on. I’ve already sent you notes, after all, and you haven’t responded so I’m respecting your boundaries this time. I have to say, I don’t want to respect your boundaries. I want to knock on your door, because yes, I do know where you live, and say you hurt me. I want to look you in the eyes and convey the pain you caused me. I want to refuse to let you run away from facing me. From taking responsibility for your decision. Because you never did that. You had someone else give me the news. The last time I saw you everything was as normal as ever and two days later you cut all ties without giving me a reason. Without even offering me the decency of looking me in the eyes. And I feel angry about that. I have felt angry about that for nearly 7 years. And without your willingness to say sorry. Without your willingness to ask me directly for what you needed. I couldn’t let it go. I feel sad. I feel denial. I feel anger. I feel grief. I loved you. I loved your family. I did everything I could to love you the way I thought you wanted to be loved. But something wasn’t enough. Something wasn’t right. For you anyway. So, you ended it. My anger wants to put you in your place for this. I want to tell you that of course you did this to me. You hold all the power. You always hold the power don’t you. Or maybe you didn’t once and now that you have it, you’re as irresponsible with it as others were to you. We were not equals. We were not peers. You needed something from me, and you got it. I didn’t matter. I was just another contract set up to provide you with the goods and services you want and need. And you paid for those. And you told me you or I could end it at will, no questions asked, whenever we wanted. I thought that was just a contract. I thought our relationship was more than the contract. But it never was. What an idiot I am. Giving you my heart. Trusting you. I’m trying not to let my vulnerability lead me to feel shame, but you didn’t deserve all of me. I didn’t set appropriate boundaries. I lost myself in you. I became you. I wanted to be you. I wanted your life and you letting me in for just a short while made me think that maybe I could have it. That maybe it was mine after all. But that is just denial. It was never mine. My sadness feels heavy. It longs to understand what happened. It longs to go back to the final day near the Pacific Ocean and ask you when I had the opportunity. It has replayed that day over and over and over again trying to figure out what happened. What happened? When did you know? Was it something I did? Something I said? Why didn’t you come to me? I would have understood. I would have let you go. I would have given you what you wanted and needed just like I always did. Desperation. I feel so desperate for you. I’ve gone through bargaining to try to get you back. You would know this if you read my letters. Did you read my letters? Now they make me feel sick. They make me embarrassed that I continued to seek your validation even after you threw me away. Why did you throw me away? And then I wonder was this all harder for you than it was for me? Could you not face me because you didn’t want this, but you needed it? Have we been grieving this together all this time? I have to trust your process. I have to trust mine. I have to accept. I choose to accept. I choose to let you go. I choose to look back on the memories and feel the joy you brought to my life. You brought so much joy to my life. You are an incredible person. You taught me so much. I didn’t want to stop learning from you and as it turns out, I didn’t. You have continued to teach me even in your absence. As I write this, you may be just 10 minutes away. Or you might be on the other side of the world. I feel your presence. I’m done resisting that presence. I’m done. I accept. I accept that you will not answer me because you can’t. I accept your boundaries even though I don’t agree with them. I accept our difference. I accept your choice. I accept my grief. I thought someday you’d come back into my life, but the truth is you never left. You’ve been here since that first day I met you, again near the Pacific. There’s something about us and the Pacific. But I’m letting you go now. I’m taking those shells I got from the last time we were together and I’m putting them back in the Pacific. Where we started. Where we ended. I’m asking the water to cleanse me. I won’t forget you. I don’t need to. You are an incredibly important part of my life and I will always love you for all you gave to me. But I’m letting go of my attachment to you. I let go of my attachment to you. Be well. Thrive. And I will do the same.