Dear "You"...From "Me"-Letters Unsent

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Dear You,

Remember when, to you, everything I felt that wasn't desire to eat out or about your cock was depression?? Feeling hurt was depression. Wanting to grow a garden was depression. Everything was depression.

Now you see depression. The last seven years have been depression.

I should get help, you said. Take some medication, you said. Now you see me-- brain damaged from neuroleptics, addicted to benzos (yeah, I took them for a few months and it's been over a year-- still addicted), still easily exhausted (permanent thyroid dysfunction, maybe??) from five months on Zoloft.

All I needed, ever, was somebody to listen. Preferably someone who lives in the real world, not that idealistic wouldn't it be great fantasy land called therapy. Preferably someone who isn't my MALE best friend, who I can't be accused of adultery just for talking with.

That was too hard. You told me how uncaring I was because I wouldn't CATER to your judgments and fears. Why can't you LISTEN to mine??

--Me

BuyerBeware,

Your post hit the nail on the head exactly. People are too quick to call everything depression, but when they are up against the real thing, they don't notice it or they want to medicate the problem, not knowing the horrible side effects (and downright up front effects) of those horrible drugs. Just the names of those pharmaceuticals are the stuff of nightmares.

Dear world,

I miss having a dog.
I can deal with no one finding me bearable enough to be attached to, but I really miss having a dog.

Dear Mom,

I know I'm not the woman you wanted for him.

I don't know who that woman might have been. I imagine she would have been the Twenty-First Century version of the idealized '50s housewife and so much more. Someone bright and vivacious, professional enough to give us a combined annual income over $200K, lots of fun, with a spotless house and great taste in decorating, who would raise perfectly-mannered genius children with impressive lists of extracurricular activities, who likes to entertain and excels at small-talk... Great at planning exciting vacations... With a photo-ready family of shiny people who would immediately make you feel at home. I imagine she would have been the woman you wanted to be.

Definitely not, you know, ME.

But HE PICKED ME. I don't know why. I don't know if he loved me, or loved who he thought he could make me into, or saw me as a starter wife, or was just so lonely and hopeless that anyone who would take him would do, or saw me as nothing more than a means to an end and just happened to end up baby-trapped before that end was reached.

Whatever the reason, one thing I can say-- he picked me with his eyes open, in full possession of all the information I had available to me to give him. To paraphrase Leonard Cohen, I told the truth. I didn't try to fool him. I told him he wouldn't be a struggling engineering student forever. I told him what I could and couldn't be. I told him I thought he could do better. He said, "I love you just the way you are."

I don't know why.

I don't know why he picked me, but he did. I've tried to be good to him. Sometimes I've failed. Sometimes I've taken care of myself first, whether he liked it or not. The really notable one was stealing time to spend a few hours a week sitting alone under a tree smoking dope. That was probably morally wrong; I was probably a 23-year-old feminist c**t who had no understanding of the true, sacrificial meaning of love (though I would NEVER want him to put nursing my depressed ass ahead of his own mental and emotional survival). Sometimes I've tried so hard it ended up blowing up in both our faces. But I've always tried to be good to him.

I believe he's always tried to be good to me-- I guess we're neither of us saints.

I know I'm not the woman you wanted for him. I'm not the mother you wanted for your grandchildren.

I can't say you're not the mother-in-law I wanted. I never considered what I wanted in a mother-in-law. I figured I'd have enough trouble finding a man without screening his parents too-- and I SURE AS HELL wouldn't have wanted someone to screen me on the basis of my family.

I love him. I'm going to choose to believe that he loves me. We ALL love these kids.

I love YOU. I don't think I'm ever going to figure out how to love you the way you want me to, but I do love you. I wish I could fix your depression, your anxiety, your perfectionism, your contempt for your own self (and not just because it would benefit me). I wish I could help you realize some of your lost goals and dreams.

I'm not going to give up pursuing some degree of realization of mine just because you either had to or chose to throw yours away. Maybe that's disrespectful of your sacrifice, I don't know. I know I don't want my kids (or potential kids-in-law) to sacrifice themselves on the altar of my sacrifices.

Can we please, please, please call an end to the judgment and hostility?? I'll try to let go of the fact that things you said and did are a big part of the reason I sacrificed being there for my parents and grandparents at the ends of their lives if you'll try to let go of the fact that I'm not the person you wanted for the next generation of your family.

Dear Grandma,

Happy six months in Heaven!! Please give my love to everybody.

I'm glad that your angels finally showed up to get you. I remember how long you had to wait.

Do you think you could talk them into coming back and getting me, too??

I miss you and I don't want to do this any more. I'm not as strong as you were.

Love,
Me

Dear You,

They say the Aspie is supposed to be the cold one, the one who gets angry when people have problems, the one who thinks everything is fine while their partner is emotionally starving to death.

So why is it that I reach out, and get met with either hostility or a joke??

I know, if I could just be the right kind of person-- sexy, feminine, fun, the kind of vulnerable that makes a man feel manly without being contemptibly pathetic-- then everything would be great again.

I'm so lonely. Every once in a while I manage to do well enough that you show me just a little warmth, just a teaser, just enough to make sure the cold HURTS again.

Please tell the truth. Please stop playing semantic games. Please stop saying the things you think you are supposed to say, the answers the therapists told you to give to make me better. They ring false against your behavior.

Dear cellular structure,

You are NOT the boss of me.
I am the boss of YOU.

Raleigh.

Dear cellular structure,

I am here for the duration and nothing you can do will determine the future of me.
I will last as long as I should; in all appropriateness.
I'll decide when it's time to go.

Raleigh.

Dear Mom,

I rescind my earlier statement.

It's mutual. You're not the mother-in-law I wanted, either.

I don't know what I wanted in a mother-in-law. I didn't think much about those things.

I know what I DIDN'T want. I didn't want someone who derives pleasure from kicking and belittling me. And you do.

May God have mercy on your soul,

Me

I thought I would share with you, that I've, recently, helped my cousin re-landscape her yard and cultivate her garden. I thought of you, often, throughout the process. My Mom and I, took a short road trip, up the coast and she took me on a tour of her favorite nursery. Throughout our journey, I spoke of you and the beautiful photos you had shared with me, of your garden. I wish to share them with her, on my next visit with my folks.

I hope you had a nice day, and you are enjoying your evening.

Dear Folks,

I was never perfect. But I was good-- not in the sense of being skilled. In the sense of being honest and real and kind.

I guess you couldn't believe that. I guess you'd never seen a good person before, and that's why you had to read evil motives into everything I did.

I guess I didn't give you the show you wanted, and that's why everything I did was sick and manipulative in your eyes.

I guess it was selfish that I took time to practice self-care instead of giving every second of every minute of every day to you.

You make me sick. Literally. Because of what you've taught me, I can't bear to do healthy things any more.

I hope-- I don't know what I hope. "I hope you enjoy Hell" and "I hope you get what's coming to you" are mean-- and I'm still not mean, just broken.

I hope I find a way to fix this, get myself and my ability to live the life that is allotted to be back. I hope you do, too. I hope this time, it doesn't involve destroying someone else.

If feelings for you hadn't developed I would have stayed friends with you, but I can't. It hurts too much.

I feel really confused. You can be so lovely, but there is a hate inside you that I've seen slip out and I can't handle it. I don't like. It makes me uneasy.

What happened to you? You have the potential for so much. But you seem angry.

It wouldn't matter to me if I didn't care.

i have no idea what you think of me. i don't know if we're just pretending to be friends for the sake of not ending it on bad terms, and i'm supposed to just disappear now that we're on good terms. i mean, we got that closure.. i guess maybe that's all we wanted from each other. i don't know if i'm even your friend, or if i am and that's ALL i am. i don't know if maybe now things are better in our lives and you want to try again. i don't know if you're just waiting for me to admit my feelings or if i'm just overthinking everything. either way, i'll never know any of those things if we both don't learn to knock down the massive walls we've built around ourselves to protect ourselves from breaking each other's hearts again.

if it matters, i do still have those feelings, i wish we could knock those walls down and learn to be together. but i guess that's just me living in a fantasy. maybe one day, we'll learn to love each other and have the ability to let someone in. i guess today isn't that day. and every passing day where we blow each other off like we do, it makes me feel like that day will never come. but i hope it does.

you're wonderful, you really are. i'm sorry i make you feel otherwise. i wish bluntly just saying "i want to love you again, and i want you to love me" was so easy.

Dear you, i know i can be really cruel when i'm angry but i still wish you'd forgive me. Even if you can't i wish you would just erase me rather than hate me. I can never hate you, you made me too happy for that. I do get angry at you sometimes but it's only because of my selfishness and because i still miss you. I hope you can forgive it just this once..