I’m sorry for the day I tried to push over the bar in the kitchen of the [house we had been living in] and wound up just looking like an ass and really scaring you.
And for the night I fell drooling onto your floor, claiming to have been drugged. I was so scared of where my mind had been trapped, I was thrashing desperately trying to break free from my chains. I felt trapped, I WAS trapped, and at the time I thought I was being trapped by YOU. I made a conscious decision to destroy us that night, and also the night I burned our photos. I’m sorry for being so misguided in my judgement. I'm sorry for smashing us like a mirror just because I was angry at the reflection.
I’m sorry for stalking you. I will never do it again.
I never carried my own weight, or did my own dishes. I acted like a child, a part of me still was. The day we moved out of the [second house] and had that fight with XXX, you defended me. When you did that, I felt something inside of me that was entirely new. For the first time I can ever remember, I felt safe. I felt safe with you. I had never felt that way before. It was unexpected. It was an alien sensation and it upset the way I understood the world. I think that your defense of me that day had a big part to do with why I would up hurting you so bad. You shone a light on the things blocking the path of my heart. You showed me love.
The lesson I learned was that love is something I have to build inside of myself. I learned that once I have built a piece of love, it is best given away to those close to you. You taught me that the best leadership is done by example. You taught me how to do my own dishes, and to carry the weight of others. You taught me the importance of safety. I have taken these lessons and built a fire in my heart, and every single day I try to give back. But no matter where I go or what I am doing when I express my love, whether it is printing a patch, cleaning a street, organizing a camp, or just sharing a smile with a stranger on the street… I feel you. I see you. You are there in my heart every time I sweep up a cigarette, every time I share experience and advice with a friend, and especially every single time I print a patch - there you are in my heart right where the hole was blown open in the closing days of what we once were. I’m sorry for having been such a mess in my past. Please forgive me.
A couple of months ago everything fell into place. Why I was so misguided, why I tended to disassociate, why I had a lot of trouble remembering. When you shone a light on the darkness in my heart it gave me a pretty good map of where some problems might be. I got a lot of help navigating from my father, my sister, and a few friends and professionals, and I’m still in regular contact with a counselor at the practice my mother helped start up in Montgomery. Well, what they helped me realize was that in the 4th grade I was held against a wall and raped in the closet of my homeroom class by a peer. She had begun the three month episode of abuse by telling me “I like you”. Afterwards I never felt safe again, until I met you. In hindsight I can only imagine what kinds of trauma she herself must have gone through to understand that it was ok to do those things to me. I realized that a piece of me was still trapped in the closet where I was assaulted, and after two decades I was able to finally break free and talk about it. I might never have started this journey if it were not for you. Thank you.
No one deserves the ugly things that I did to you. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I very well may have trapped a piece of you in a closet all your own, just as my abuser did to me and her abuser did to her. Both of our lives have grown so different now, and I no longer know anything about who you are today. All I know is that I have built upon thathole you blew in the furnace of my heart. It can breath again, finally, and every time it’s love bellows forth I am left hoping, wishing, praying that you are somewhere, smiling.
I love you.
Please forgive me.
I am sorry.