u/APennyWiser

If you don’t start being kinder to the babygirl on board she’s not going to survive. This choice is out of my hands, I can only act as a guide now.

I know how much you care about her, she’s the only one you’ve ever really opened up to. Why then do you treat her like this for being so similar to you? I’ve watched you take away that young woman’s opportunities and self worth all her life. But you claim that she’s the only one who ever made you feel accepted.

That young lady is hanging on by a thread. She’s engaging in unsafe behavior because she needs out of the situation she’s in and that’s how she thinks she can solve it. I wonder where she learned those moves from in the first place?

Be kind to those below.

They are not doing so well.

This is a tough one for me to write. Most days I do my best not to think about you. Our time, though very brief, left an impact that I’ve yet to heal fully.

I’ve never had someone insist on meeting me based on the sound of my voice. You certainly weren’t a regular face at the bar when I came to drop off your food. The fact that you were reading a book, that exact one, was what made me stop and talk for a moment. I didn’t feel the need to give you any pretenses as to who I am. It was refreshing in a way I’m not used to. When you asked for my number I was actually kind of surprised.

You didn’t text me the usual things that guys do when they are playing the field. What you wrote was thoughtful, and thought provoking. I enjoyed our dialogue, it had a way of getting a part of me to rise to the occasion that rarely feels safe enough to come out of hiding. I think sometimes I try to hate you for giving that part of me hope for a brief moment, but I couldn’t ever really hate you. You were far too good a person for that.

The date you took me on was like something out of a movie or a book. Coffee and conversation, getting to know one another face to face instead of over text. The way you carried yourself never translated as arrogant, but rather confident. I felt myself comfortable expressing that soft feminine side of me, your energy had a way of naturally making me feel at ease. The whole afternoon spent checking out miniatures and playing arcade games. You felt comfortable casually touching me and I enjoyed it thoroughly. From your fingers trailing lightly on my arm, to your hands grabbing my waist and spinning me around to see something neat. Anytime you touched me it sang my body electric.

I let you see my intelligence. I don’t do that with men anymore. I’ve spent a long time being told to know my place by men who couldn’t outwit me on my worst day. So I stopped letting people see how my mind truly works. You didn’t treat me like a pretty idiot so I responded by letting you know a part of me that few get to see.

I don’t think I expected to see you so soon after that. When you showed up next door again it was a different kind of interaction this time. I got to see the ambitious side of you that was growing his own business. Playing a game of pool and having some drinks before you followed me back to my job to close up for the day. There is still a residue there at my place of employment that sneaks up on me when I least expect it. Like an echo my brain refuses to let go of.

I shouldn’t have slept with you that night. I don’t regret it in the slightest, but I still think I should have waited. That night was like a fever dream of all the desires I’ve kept tucked away in my heart and mind. Something about you was familiar enough that I let you past walls I never let anyone breach. I think I really did walk away from dating after you. I tried once more, but my heart wasn’t in it.

Even after, you met me and apologized for your behavior. Your core reasoning was more hurtful than you know, but only because it’s a wound I don’t speak of often. I married a pagan, and I had child with an Orthodox Christian. I am incredibly omnistic, it’s kind of essential for the mental health issues I deal with. I didn’t tell you that when my last relationship ended, my mom took me shopping for lingerie to help me be comfortable with dating. Instead of finding something sexy for myself, I found a dress that would be suitable for church. I didn’t tell you that I have religious trauma so severely that when I go to church it’s one where they don’t speak English, and I never go during service. It’s not about knowing the bible to me, I think we’ve already covered that I’m well versed in the good book. It’s about sitting with something higher than myself and handing over the things I cannot carry alone. It’s about asking for forgiveness for things that I cannot yet forgive myself for. It’s deeply personal to me. Something that can only be experienced through feeling not understanding.

I think maybe we were on cable cars headed in opposite directions. But for that brief moment we got to connect in each others’ orbit, it left a trail of stardust to remember you by. Thank you for setting the bar so incredibly high. It’s made my nights lonely, but my dreams an achievable reality. To quote a book I know: “Prosperity knits a man to the world. He feels that he is finding his place in it, while really it is finding its place in him.”

- that one girl

P.S. After that night I just don’t think I could think of the right things during an actual bible study.

When you've lived through as much trauma as you or I your nervous system is conditioned to feel comfortable in chaos. Stable either feels too boring or like a cage waiting for you. With an honorable mention to the self sabotage that keeps the whole cycle in place.

You asked me what I know about it, so here it is.

When you’ve spent your life being thrown away by those that are supposed to care for you, it doesn’t exactly teach you how to value yourself. To find people that can accept that mentality and commiserate in it will not be at the top of the social strata. Most of them feel disposable too. Maybe they live decently. But if those skeletons get left in the closet too long eventually the secrets become too hard to hide. The addictions as coping mechanisms begin to matter more than anything else. Applying a poorly wrapped bandage to arterial bleeding and calling it ‘normal’. There is no amount of medicine that can heal those ails. That kind of thinking is a never ending trap into oblivion.

The hard work that no one wants to do? Learning how to accept yourself as you are now and sitting with the uncomfortable feelings that make you shake. Holding yourself through the things that no one should have to go through. Showing up for your own life when you would rather hide from the world. Healing is messy and full of ups and downs, but so is life. Understanding trauma and what that does to the human brain is astounding. And on the other hand knowing that the human brain is capable of healing every scar and fracture line within it.

I am no better or worse than the homeless man that sleeps in the park down the street. I weep when I see human beings treated as less than stray animals because they didn’t have the same opportunities or anyone to care for them. I’ve met some of the most beautiful souls sleeping in alleys or under a bridge. I have a lot of compassion for those addicted to toxic substances. I grew up around addicts and I cared to understand the immense pain and suffering that went into those choices. There are so many layers of it, each more devastating than the last. To hold yourself through that kind of healing is to witness a thousand births of the person you are becoming. It’s messy and undignified, but worth the effort. Learning to find value in yourself when the world constantly tells you that you’ll never be more than they perceive is disheartening.

That old adage is quite true though, you wont change until you want to. Doesn't mean I think anything less of you for it. But it does mean that this stays as a friendship with boundaries.

I write one letter without any incriminating personal details and everyone thinks it’s for them. Or at the very least an invitation to trauma dump about whoever they think I’m writing to.

Ladies and gentlemen… Even though at this point I think this sub is primarily female. My letters are for self reflection and healing. I do not hide when it comes to talking about hard things. I take accountability for what I’ve done and how I have behaved.

I’m not here to find some long lost love. I’m not here to reach anyone that I know who hangs out here. I hang out here and in the unsent subs because I’m choosing to let go with grace and healing the wounds left untreated for too long. I’m relearning how truly beautiful I am inside without the persistent influence of others.

If you know the real me, then you know I spend most of my time being the foundation that those around me grow from. It turns out I’m pretty good at holding space for it all, even if it leaves me drained most days. So, in the evening time when the house is quiet. When the silent part of me wants to touch something sacred that was taken from her long ago. I’m going to let her express herself however she sees fit.

I have a lot of genuine respect and admiration for the people in these subs. I’ve found a lot of healing reading other people’s stories that have resonated with my own. I’ve found that the kind of partner I want does exist, just not in my current circle. They say you attract where you’re at. So I’m putting in the work to be the kind of person I want to attract into my life.

I would kindly appreciate it if the bullies would stop chasing me down and harassing me. I don’t ever report you, but you know who you are. I have maintained a very minimal social media presence for 8 years now, not particularly by choice but necessity.

My life has not been easy, but I’m more resilient than most expected. A persistent thorn in the paw of those that would prefer I remain silent and small.

I’m really not here to spread hate or animosity. More like some delightfully macabre humor from the wrong side of the tracks. Exercising muscles I’ve long since let atrophy. I have tough feelings like everyone else, putting words to them helps me to understand where my issues still lie. I have a lot. And I believe that denial is a river better left in Egypt.

✌️

Much love,

Thelema

I don’t have any hard feelings towards you, I just don’t want to leave that connection open any longer.

I really liked you, a part of me felt safe with you that has never felt safe with anyone. I let you in more than I do most people because of it.

I want you to know that I never judged anything about you, just felt a sort of kindred spirit in you that I’ve never found before.

I won’t ever share the things we talked about or even much about you really. I will say that I am still cheering you on and hoping for the best possible outcome in your life.

Dylan,

I’ve thought about you quite a bit over the past year. Not the you now, rather the one I fell in love with half a lifetime ago.

Maybe if you ever get brave enough to check Reddit out again you’ll stumble across this letter. But I won’t hold my breath.

I still remember the day I met you, the guy that had been chasing my friend Beka all summer. You picked us up for a summer solstice celebration. She didn’t want you to know where I lived so we met at the gas station. I didn’t understand why everyone was looking at us in shock for most of the evening. The man with impeccable boundaries and buttressed walls was open and laughing with someone no one knew. We talked about everything and nothing that day while I sat there making a flower crown, your head laying gently in my lap.

The age gap was a hurdle back then that I laugh at now. I used to tease you for your caution and restraint, when these days I rather wish I had learned more of it from you. It sure was sweet in those early days, when we got to experience falling in love and exploring one another. We shared a lot of music, took a lot of drives. To this day there is a certain song that will always remind me of when you took me into the mountains for the first time. We smoked a lot of cigarettes, drank a lot of coffee, and fucked like beatniks. I don’t think anyone has forgotten the time you called my mother to tell her you broke me during sex and didn’t know what to do. To be fair, neither did I.

Joking aside, what we had was beautiful in our adolescence. We’ve been good friends to each other over the years, but it hasn’t come without its costs. This last year, I’m sorry for not being there for you. It’s not because I didn’t want to be, but because I finally chose to stop enabling the things that were destroying you. We went our separate ways many years ago. I never expected you were waiting on me to come back around.

So I’’l start there. I’m sorry for what I did to you that ended our marriage. I could give you a million reasons as to why it happened, valid ones that were broken down and dissected in therapy. The boiled down truth of it is this. I cheated because I was too emotionally immature at the time to give myself the attention I was craving while you were busy building a life for us. I treated you poorly, and I spent a long time as your friend trying to make up for that failure of character. I’m sorry for being such a brat in those days.

I know you would prefer to blame my changes and behavior on the ridiculous crap I got into back then and dragged you into as well. Nothing looked quite so shiny to my black little goth heart as a secret order full of occult knowledge. These days I’ve drank the kool-aid in every shade of the rainbow and can spot a cult from a mile off. But back then I still thought my brain was worth using for intelligent things, like learning. I’m sorry for dragging you to the dark side because they had good cookies. I always was a sucker for snickerdoodles.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I do own them. I choose to grow from them and change the behavior or my outlook on it. Someone told me that it takes three times before something becomes a pattern. So I took the road less travelled this time. I’m rooting out the real cause of this crappy behavior once and for all, even if it takes me the rest of my life. I don’t want to hurt others so I stay alone while I figure this out. It hasn’t been pretty, and for where you were dragged through it as well I am sorry. We stepped into a lot of unknown worlds together and you left me to unravel the mess alone. I’m sorry for where that has tugged at wounds that have not healed. It was never my intention to cause you harm.

It was nice to catch up recently, even if you did your usual leaving the conversation when you caught yourself opening up. I will always consider you a friend. I hope wherever this next leg of the adventure takes you that it brings you some peace and healing. I wish you a love for the ages. You deserve a love that can match that steady heart of yours beat for beat.

With Love,

The Evil Ex

P.S. Now let’s get that damn divorce before I really do take part of your social security when you’re old. It’s been 15 years. Time to do the paperwork and make it official.

😂 Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Turns out your name has a really bad reputation around these parts.. pun intended. Not really your fault either.

Why? I’m not exactly sure. I could guess, but I wont. So Baby Daddy it is. I shall continue to keep my chin up and giggle at the irony of this whole mess. I think it’s time to start writing the important letters now. Even though we are no longer together, I still consider you a good friend and one of the most important chapters in my life. Our relationship was beautiful, one not many get to experience. I wish we would have put more emphasis on just living life instead of focusing on healing all the time. It would have made for more good times at the very least.

I won’t diminish what we had by talking negatively about you. You were a light when I was often shrouded in darkness. More than anyone else in my life you taught me that I am worthy of love, even if I make mistakes. Thank you for taking the journey of a lifetime with me, and then again when that little golden nugget showed up. I always knew you’d be a wonderful father and you’re just getting started.

There isn’t much apologizing I feel I need to do, not here anyways. When it comes up, we talk about it in person. I’m glad we still talk, that we are able to maintain a friendship not solely around the kid. I know we both had previous hang ups when we got together, and then realized later on we were both working on healing long forgotten wounds that mirrored each others. Maybe that’s why I wanted to write this letter, not to speak of us, but to speak of them. The ones we both silently pined for, broke our brains to forget kind of people.

I’m still holding out hope that you get that happy ending. You’re far kinder than me, you deserve to be loved by someone who compliments you so beautifully. She really does sound amazing. I’m sorry for the times that I couldn’t hold space for those conversations when we were still together, I’m glad you’re able to talk to me about it now. I know how much she means to you, how much they both do. If anyone deserves to have that happy ending it’s you my friend.

As for me, that Jimi thing that kept me swinging? Whether you believed me at the time or not, I really did let him go. I genuinely don’t think I would have been able to have our baby if I had held onto that any longer. That little cabin in the mountains, I sat on the porch and cried every day for months. I found every last nook and crevice he had seeped into and bled it out. I was incredibly surprised to find them at the end of that rope I’ve been pulling up for over a decade, no anchor, just another notorious J name.

I’m tired, you know as well as I that this is a battle I cannot win. The stakes are too high. Thank you for becoming detached enough to survive the outcome no matter what happens. I’m so fucking proud of you and the role you have stepped into. I hope you go on to share those wonderful gifts with the world. Even if selfishly I’ll always cherish the time you only shared them with me. Those are times I will always treasure.

When we felt infinite.

With love,

The Evil Ex

P.S. We really were like ‘Good Omens’, it’s not my fault that you’re the lycanthrope and I’m the time lord. Excellent genetics to pass on, either way. 😂

More than anyone, you deserve to be happy. Seeing you sparkle today brought tears to my eyes.

I hate that you value your self worth by your physical appearance, or the attention you receive because of it. I understand why, it just breaks my heart. I wish you saw what everyone else sees when they look at you. A gorgeous woman, with charm and humor. A heart that is more generous than sensible most days. And a kindness that you don’t find very often.

I am proud to be your daughter. I take it as a hell of a compliment when people tell me I look like you.

Ma’am. You are beautiful. Always have been, always will be. You cook like Paula Deen. You bake like Julia Child. You’re a boss bitch with your own business providing a lot of people with the means to survive. You built that from a dream you never let go of. You raised two girls by yourself, without the help of your family who always kept you down. You taught us how to be strong, how to hold the world even when you’re shaking from your knees under the pressure. I think you’re too kind some days, but even if it takes some time, I always see the beautiful fruits that those seeds of kindness planted. You are the rarest sort of treasure that exists in this world and you’ve never believed that about yourself.

You have the best sense of humor, and I love it when it’s just us and you let me see that goofy side of you. The real you, that someone likes to keep down because they can’t handle how bright you shine. The days you let it shine anyways not caring what anyone says, those are the days I have tucked in my memories. I get to see that more now especially around a little person I know. I can’t tell you how healing it’s been to see you interact with that little, how seen it has made me feel. There is a special part of you that I get to interact with now and it makes all the healing I’ve done so worth it. I wouldn’t miss this next chapter for the world. Besides, who else is going to teach the little how to ride coconut horses through the grocery store?

Thank you for the opportunities you continue to give me even if I don’t feel worth it all the time. You’ve never given up on me and that has kept me afloat more than I like to admit. I hope you know how much I love, admire, and respect you. Not every superhero wears a cape, sometimes they look like a sexy granny serving up cinnamon rolls. Who wouldn’t want to be the lucky recipient of all that goodness? I get that honor, and I guess I just wanted to tell you how much it means to me.

I love you Mama.

P.S. You’ve always sang like Karen Carpenter.. anyone says different, you send ‘em my way.

The last voicemail I have from you was this day last year. You told me to shout Mayday! If I was in trouble and needed help, that you would always be there.

But you’re not here anymore daddy.

I’ve searched a long time for the answer to that question you always asked me. Why didn’t I talk to you more? I never really had a great reason for it, and it wasn’t from lack of wanting to talk to you. You were the only person that didn’t make me feel crazy for the things in my head, the only real parent I actually had. I’ve always come back to the same answer.. I wasn’t allowed to talk to you. That didn’t really make a lot of sense to me for a very long time, felt like a cop out for the real reasoning. Sure there was the normal childhood bullshit, but I still look back on my time with you as the only brief windows that I got to experience my own childhood.

We went fishing almost every evening down on the river. Whistling the Andy Griffith’s theme song as we grabbed the tackle boxes and poles and headed to our favorite spot on the water. You made sure I got to participate in things I would have otherwise never had the chance to. I was a bad ass on the baseball field in my cutoff shorts taking grounders to the face. And when our real games turned out to be so different from practice? You took me to the batting cages to help me get my confidence back up as the star I always was in your eyes. Whether it was the fish hatchery, the junkyard, or the woods behind the house, doing anything with you was the adventure of a lifetime. You made a life for us, got me my first dog, let me just be a kid for once.

Even further back when you still lived in the place I was born. You took me to the ocean because I didn’t believe that you had been to one too. It was so different from what I had become accustomed to. There was no bright sun and crystal blue waters, no surfers riding swells or bikinis tanning on the beach. It was cloudy and grey, the ocean a dark merciless blue that had a different kind of beauty. The tide pools held hidden worlds that I still dream about. It was the first time I got to see real Orcas in the wild, a whole pod moving gracefully through the bay. My child self had no fear picking up jellyfish or crabs to meet them, with you kindly teaching me not to disturb their watery world, only observe. I remember walking through the forests with you quizzing me on the types of trees around us, teaching me the difference between a redwood and a cedar. I liked to lift up the fern fronds along the ground to see what kind of creatures called them home, endlessly fascinated by the place of my birth.

You were the most amazing man on roller skates, like something out of Xanadu. I’ll never forget watching you do tricks in front of the post office while you were teaching me how to use a toe stop. I’m still rubbish at roller skating, but it was never about being the best to me. It was about the genuine time I got to spend with you that made me happy. You treated me like a parent should treat a child, like I mattered. You took me to air shows and let me sit in the funny helicopters and planes, took me to car shows and taught me all the classics. You taught me what you knew dad, and it was a lot.

I was your legacy, bearing the same middle and last name as you, though there is no father listed on my birth certificate. It was only recently that I realized what it is you were trying to tell me before you died, the burden you passed on to me and asked me to hold. She got ahold of my sister first, and then she sent her my way since you two didn’t actually share any blood. She looks like me. A lot like me. I’m so sorry that you felt you had to hide that for over half of your life, it was a parting gift from you I never expected. I am not alone. It didn’t feel okay to do my own DNA test until after you died, though I’ve had one sitting in my closet for over a decade. Turns out all that bullshit you and my sister fed me about a line of kings is true. I don’t think I ever really believed it, even if I thought the idea was nifty. Of course it would have been my ancestor that tapped me on the shoulder in Westminster Abbey to remind me it was still a tomb.

The truth is I’m not really doing so okay daddy. From the outside it looks like my life is normalizing, stabilizing in a way very few have seen from me. But on the inside? I’m caving in on myself at an alarming rate and I don’t know that I want to stop it. I’m going through the motions, showing up where I’m supposed to, but I have no heart left in this. I feel like a ghost of who I used to be, an unending sorrow that has charred the marrow of my bones and turned my blood to ash. I can’t remember the last time I ate without someone being mad at me for being in the kitchen, so I don’t eat. I sleep a lot, it doesn’t really feel like depression anymore. It feels like that last act of rebellion I am capable of, letting the extreme apathy take over until my body shuts down. I have no fight left in me, just quietly accepting that this is the way things have always been and this is how they shall remain.

It’s one of those days I wish you were here to take me to Dairy Queen to share a banana split. To wipe my tears and tell me to cowgirl up little lady, that not everyone is capable of hitching their wagon to a shooting star. Thanks for keeping Janis and Joni safe for me, it sure is hard to feel dem kozmic blues in this dog eat dog world.

I miss you daddy.