While I know you’ll never read this, or if you do, no one will ever know because you could never admit to the things I’m about to say out loud, some for the first time ever, because you have an image to keep. God forbid anyone ever think any less of you.
It’s been years since what happened between us. Luckily, a lot of those memories have faded, and I can’t even remember the good stuff. The bad stuff is easy, because it’s what has haunted me for the better part of eleven years. Some, I’ve been able to get past on my own; other stuff took therapy and lots of prayer. But the rest…the rest is a daily battle that I question if I’ll ever win or not. I was told in therapy that I needed to write this letter. It felt stupid, like there was no point in writing a letter that no one will ever read. But, on a night like tonight, when I can’t sleep and it’s because words that you once said are rolling over and over in my head, I figure, why the hell not?
Throughout our entire relationship, we discussed our future. Our first date revolved around our future. Within the first two weeks of dating, “I love you’s” were exchanged, poetry was written, sonnets were spatted, and so much of what I was convinced I’d never have was coming to pass right before my eyes. I didn’t even worry about opening up my heart to you, because it had never been truly broken before.. How could it have? I was eighteen, the world was my oyster, and all my dreams were seemingly in reach. And over that time, you stole every ounce of self-confidence I had, evert iota of my voice, and led me to believe that a woman’s place is behind her man, not beside him. Our relationship wasn’t a partnership, it was a “If you do what I say, look the way I want you to, and act how I expect you to, I’ll continue to love you” type of dictatorship. And sadly? I let you. I trusted you to make every decision for us, stopped making my own decisions, and let you lead me down the most destructive path I’ve ever been on.
The reality is this, oh “Wild at Heart”; you took advantage of the mind of a naïve, innocent eighteen-year-old girl, who in all respects should have been allowed to experience life before experiencing a fairytale. I know in those days, I had already experienced my fair share of pain and suffering, but I hadn’t truly experienced anything outside the four walls of my parent’s home. I should have been encouraged to travel, to see the world. It shouldn’t have been a “natural” choice between college or marriage.
And here is why I am taking the time to write this. You destroyed me. You shattered my heart into a million pieces, not once, but twice. The first time, when you decided there was a better option and just shoved me off to the side like a bad dream. The second, when I found a true friend – and healing – through the friendship with your wife. She is possibly the most selfless, genuine, loving person I’ve ever met, and she was my friend. Do you think it was easy for me, going to visit her, hanging out with her, in YOUR house? Having you come home from work and seeing you and her living this life that was supposed to have been mine? It still amazes me that I literally felt no jealousy or animosity toward her, at any point in time in her and my friendship, as short lived as it may have been. And I have no doubt it was so short term because you were afraid I’d tell her things that would alter her opinion of her perfect husband. So, a great friendship was ruined. In today’s terms, I was “ghosted,” as coffee meetings, lunch appointments, all got cancelled or indefinitely rescheduled, and eventually just stopped hearing back at all. I miss that friendship every day, because she was such a kindred spirit, and now – with so much of my life to look back on and lessons I’ve personally learned as a result of you and your destructiveness – wish I was still part of her life, so I could protect her from you. I had no one to protect me as you wormed your way through my soul, and oh how I wish I had! Those people luckily came into my life just as you were gearing up to crush the rest of my soul. But her…I wish more than anything in the world I could have protected her sweet soul from you. At this point, I pray she has let her voice be heard and put you in your place a time or two. Not for my sake, but for hers.
As I said before, when I think back on our relationship, I’m reminded not of the good times, but of the bad. Why? Because I finally found someone who loves me for me. Who started loving me when I was at my worst. Somehow this man has found the good in me that I thought was gone long ago, and for the first time in eleven long years, I let down the barriers I worked so hard to keep up. There is still a fragment of my heart behind a stone wall, and my hope is that – by putting this all on paper, by putting it where it can be found but not intentionally sent– that those barriers can come down completely and he can have my WHOLE heart. He deserves that. He deserves all of me, and I can’t give him that until I acknowledge why I’ve kept that small part of me behind closed doors.
Every single day, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wait for him to come home and give me some bull shit excuse why he’s done with me. I’m far from perfect, because perfect is unachievable – although I’m sure you think you’ve achieved it. Why am I always fearful of this? Well, let me tell you.
When we were together, you started changing things, grooming me to be your “trophy wife”. On my nineteenth birthday, you told me you had a big surprise for me and with excitement in your eyes, told me for a week leading up that you couldn’t wait to take me out on my birthday. I was so excited; my first birthday with a boyfriend, and I couldn’t wait to see what you had up your sleeve. You bought me flowers, took me to dinner, and then…took me to the mall. Where you told me, I had a certain amount of money to spend on new clothes. I was confused at first, but don’t worry, you explained. Oh, did you ever! The explanation was that my current clothes were frumpy, and you wanted me to have nice, sexy clothes that I could be proud of. When I started picking out things, you immediately stopped me, and started picking out what you found worthy and appropriate of your money. I’ll admit, there was a shirt in there I held on to for quite some time, because I did actually like it a lot. But the reason behind why we were there? Even now when I tell others about that trip to the mall, standing next to you at JC Penny feeling like I never wanted another birthday again, they think I’m making it up. No, that’s not something I can make up. That actually happened.
About a year into our relationship, you signed up for the gym, something you were really excited about. In your excitement, you said “you can join too! Then we can go together, and you can keep losing weight!” Yes, at 125 lbs and having a history of anorexia, you’re right, I should keep losing weight. At this point of my life, I have no time or energy to go to the gym, work out at home, or do any type of exercise other than come home and be happy I reached my ten thousand steps. I’m typically happy with this and am fine with the fact that I can’t be active, but at least I have a job that keeps me on my feet. But then – then I remember, oh right. I’m in a relationship, and I’m nowhere near where I was when you said that. How could this person possibly keep loving me if I don’t lose weight? How could he possibly find me attractive if I’m not sickly thin, with bags under my eyes from lack of nutrition and a constant cold that goes to the bone because I’m sick? Because he’s not you. Because he loved me when I was at my heaviest, and while I have PLENTY of room for improvement, he doesn’t make me feel like less of a person because I don’t fit his perfect image of “beauty standards.”
I recently had a breakdown, where I was convinced I was on the brink of another heartbreak, another devastating breakup. I hadn’t had the time or energy to keep the house clean, hadn’t been losing weight – try as I may to do so, hadn’t had time to do my make-up or make dinner or do just about anything. I couldn’t be perfect. I couldn’t be “good enough.” I couldn’t be who I know he deserves to have. I couldn’t be perfect. There was a time in my life where I strove for perfection, did everything I was told, did everything I was expected to do…and yet it still wasn’t enough. I did EVERYTHING you asked of me, did everything you told me I should do, did everything required of me to make you keep loving me. Yet, I still got a break-up text, still wasn’t enough, still had my heart broken. So, in my mind, how could I expect to hold on to someone who doesn’t dictate my life, who doesn’t require things of me, who doesn’t demand perfection if at the point in my life where I WAS perfect, I was still tossed aside like a piece of trash? Luckily, he doesn’t expect or demand perfection. He loves the mess that I am, the imperfect person I am. And that inspires me to do better far more than being reminded constantly how imperfect I am.
I remember an afternoon when we were still working together. I went out to get the mail, and there was this sweet old couple out for their afternoon walk. She was in her wheelchair, he was pushing her, and it was the sweetest picture of what growing old together looks like. I came back in, came into your office, and asked if you would push my wheelchair when I was old and grey. I expected a sweet smile, a look of adoration, and a response in the way of “of course I will.” The response I got? I quote your exact words, “Not unless you start taking care of yourself.” What more could I have been doing? I was eating minimally so I could maintain the weight you expected me to have, was literally dressed in the clothes you had bought me on my birthday, was going to the gym when you told me to, etc. But somehow, I wasn’t taking care of myself to your standards. And that was worthy of you making me feel guilty. This was around the same time I was diagnosed with IBS and chronic sinus infections. Told by more than one doctor that there was nothing I could do for these infections, and that my stomach issues were incurable. Couple this with the fact that I was sick all the time because my immune system was wrecked from my non-eating habits, I was sick both visibly and invisibly. One of the times I had a sinus infection so bad that I was unable to go to work, you came over to spend time with me. Instead of being sweet and caring in a time I was sick and needed you, you instead told me that if I didn’t get it fixed and taken care of, we’d have problems. Please, enlighten me; how do you fix what can’t be fixed? That is a result of genetics or the environment or some unknown reason? Seeing as you didn’t have a medical degree, I’d love to know how you intended for me to “fix” my illness, so YOU didn’t have to deal with it. How do you think that made me feel? I’ll tell you: it made me feel like I had to fix it so WE didn’t have problems. I tried to take care of what was out of my control, tried to find answers to an unanswerable problem. A problem I still have and isn’t fixable. A problem I’ve learned to deal with and cope with.
In your and my relationship, it was never a partnership. You said it was, but we both know that’s not true. When I actually allowed myself to speak my mind, which was very rare, I was immediately shot down by some “wise and true” words because you were older or because you were a man. I say that because I still don’t know which reason it was. For having as strong of a mother as you have, who is outspoken and confident, I don’t understand how you have such a lack of respect for women. Maybe anyone who isn’t her doesn’t live up to your standards, I don’t know and never will, and frankly has nothing to do with why I’m finally saying this. But I say it because it’s true. She’s a wonderful person, and someone I dearly miss. But your parent’s relationship was a partnership. It was inspiring that they did so much together, as a team. Just like my mom and dad had. Just like so many people I have looked up to. Lucky for me, I’ve been blessed with someone who actually treats me like a partner. Who reminds me when I’m stressed that WE will get through it because we’re partners. That we’re a team. Something I certainly never had with you.
There are many more things you said that I see now were micro-aggressions, things said to keep me in my place. To shape me and mold me, to put me in submission to what you wanted. Molding and shaping should be left up to God. Here’s the thing that I need you to understand. I’m writing this, so you understand that how you operate, or did operate, if you’ve changed – is not okay, and not how it’s supposed to be. I hope for your sake that your wife never knows the truth you and I both know, that you manipulated the beginnings of your romance to make it appear “God-ordained” when really, we were still together. That you and she went on your first date, while I sat at home worried to death that something had happened to you since I hadn’t heard from you all day. I pray that the people you shepherd never know that you got to where you are by manufacturing other parishioners works as your own, and that you’ve NEVER owned up to it. That many of the wise words and lessons you taught were the work of other people.
I’m writing this because I’ve been angry. For years. I find myself angrier now because I’m in a great relationship with an amazing man who loves me. For who I am. Something I’ve never experienced before. Thank you for setting me free years ago. I actually mean that. Thank you for leaving me on the side of the road and never looking back. Thank you for being one of the top five worst people I know, so I can honestly say that I let you go a long time ago. I haven’t had love for you in a long time. By the grace of God, I was able to abandon that love. But unfortunately, I held onto the things that hurt the most, so I would never be hurt again. And that is why I write this. I never got an apology for what you did. I deserved one, and I got one an explanation from your wife. But I deserved an apology from your lips for all the things you ever said that made me feel small, insignificant, and weak. Something I know I’ll never have, but something I know I deserve. And because I know I deserve that, I also can say with confidence, that I deserve to be happy by letting go of the things that have held me back, both in life and relationships.
So finally, and again, thank you for letting me go. Thank you for giving me the chance to find the voice you tried so hard to squash out of me. Thank you for letting me go be the imperfect person who is happier being an imperfect person rather than a miserable perfect Stepford Wife. Do better with what you have. If you find you’ve said these things to your truly wonderful wife, you have the opportunity to stop saying them now. You can stop being the manipulative, controlling person. If you’ve already stopped, then good on you. But if you haven’t, please take some of this to heart and realize that one ruined heart is enough.
My ruined heart was enough. And now it's healed.
