Here is the second letter in my series of Letters.
This letter writer wishes to remain anonymous.
Here’s what I want you to know.
Your actions and choices are not just about you.
I know. A revelation isn’t it?
Everything you do is rippling out and growing in to waves and crashing over every single one of us. And you have the nerve to say we don’t care. You have the nerve to say we have turned our backs on you.
I’ve known you since the day you were born. And not once. Not one single time in all of these decades have you reached out to help anyone. Not your parents, not your siblings, not your spouse, not your children.
You threw us all away for what you could take to avoid facing reality. You would rather take a pill or ten instead of facing pain and suffering.
Guess what???????? We ALL have pain and suffering. And we don’t take the option of copping out on life and loved ones so we don’t have to deal with it.
You suffer. I get that. Oh how I get that. You are in so much pain and denial and you have nothing. I GET IT.
But what about the rest of us? Where were you when any one of us suffered? Hospital trips? Serious injuries and surgeries? Weddings? New babies? You have not been there to comfort, or to share our joys.
Yes. I know. You are an addict. And you have a disease. I get that. But we have pains. And we have suffering. And we have indeed reached out to help you. Time. And time. And time. Again. And though we are not addicts our pains and our sufferings are as real as yours.
I am well educated on the characteristics of an addict. What you can and can’t help.
I am very well educated on it.
But that does not stop me from being human. And angry. I am so f-ing angry. At you. At your addiction. At the choices you made to get you to this point. Because you did indeed, at one time, have choices. And those choices led you to here.
I’m angry. I’m furious. I’m so tired of being made to feel guilty because of the way you live. I’m so tired of being made to feel guilty for being responsible. For paying my bills. Taking care of my family. And having comfort. It all comes with a price and it all comes with it’s own reward. Why do I have to feel shame because I have, and you do not? What did I do wrong? How did I let you down by working through my own pains and sufferings and dealing with the every day crap in life to come out on top of the crap pile? Why does that make me bad?
And why oh why do I feel so guilty? So very guilty for being angry at you? So very guilty because I can lie my head down to sleep at night on my pillow, in my bed, in my home. Why do I feel like sobbing every time I think of you? Why do I feel like I have failed you when deep down I know I can’t even do anything to make it better for you? Why am I worried every single day of your life, while you don’t give one thought to us? You have spread the word that you have written us off! You. Have written us off.
Well. I haven’t written you off. I am angry. I am actually quite pissed. But I haven’t written you off. I haven’t stopped loving you. Or wanting a better life for you. Or wanting you to be a part of our lives.
I write this in full blown anger. I write this to you knowing you will never read it. I write this to you because as I write it I am the one crying. I am the one feeling everything there is to feel about this, because you are hiding from every possible feeling there is. And I am being crushed by every possible feeling there is.
I love you.
And I write this so you know that you are killing us a little more each day.
Only you don’t see it.
And you never will.
I still hold out hope. As long as I breathe I will hold out hope for you.
It may not be until we both stop breathing that we can once again unite and you will know the depth of our love for you.
And maybe I will find out you really loved us too.
I’m sorry I’m so angry. I’m sorry I feel sorry about being angry.
I had to write this.
I love you.
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