What I Wish I Could Say, Then…and Now
Several years ago, I posted a list in my personal blog of what I wished I could say to various unnamed people but could not. It was a very long list and an excellent self-analysis tool for me—for examining the weight I still carried, the things I could not let go of, and the reasons I could not say these things openly. Most dealt with wounds as far back as childhood, throughout my growing up and college and career and marriage and since. I have purged and healed much in the past few years. (This tool was featured in Give Your Life Direction.)
A lot’s changed since my first list. I still have a list, but it’s not very long. I don’t carry all that weight from the past, I have examined and let go of so very much hurt, and I can—most of the time—say things openly with little or no concern about where the words may fall. It’s a refreshing, open way to live and I can breathe so much more easily. My fifth chakra is more open than ever before.
The things on my list now are there not so much because I cannot say them, but because the other person is not available to say them to. In some cases, my words would make things worse, but it’s rare. I’m struck by how different the reasons are now for keeping these words locked in silence. Only two are about people who were on my previous list, over half are about men I’ve dated since my divorce and have lost contact with, which is the only reason the words have gone unsaid.
In no particular order:
- Sweetie, I don’t care if you have a cross-dressing fetish. It just makes you more interesting. I accept you as you are.
- You are a complete idiot. I am watching you destroy the most precious relationships of your life. I understand now that I’m not here to fix you or your problems and you have to make a real effort to recognize and fix what’s wrong in your own life. Though it is still hard sometimes to watch what you’re doing, I will not step in and make things better for you. I could tell you exactly how to make it better, like I used to, but it’s just not my place to fix. A part of me pities you. By the time you realize what you’ve destroyed, it will be too late
- I love you, and I worry about you. I’ve tried to talk to you about this, but you consistently ask me not to say anything to you that isn’t la-dee-dah positive. If something bad or negative is happening, you simply refuse to think about it, and that’s your way of dealing with it, to the point of being callous about other people’s feelings. But too often this year, ignoring the situation has bitten you in the butt. I fear that the results of ignoring something unpleasant are going to hit you in a way that you won’t recover from.
- As much as I adore you, I don’t think I’m the woman for you. You want someone truly heartless to abuse you, and I think I’m a little too compassionate for your tastes.
- You are vicious. Please get back on your meds. I know you’ve been diagnosed as bi-polar and I’m fearful of saying more to you because I have no idea what you’ll do THIS time you decide you hate me. I’m also fearful of what you might do to yourself if you should ever realize the insurmountable damage you’ve done to other people’s careers and reputations.
- I’m not your ex-wife. I never treated you any way but well, and I didn’t deserve what you did. I no longer respect you.
- I have never forgotten. I didn’t understand before because, like I told you, you were different from anyone I’d ever known, but since then, I’ve met other men like you and I understand now. I still hold your place for you, and if you ever have the courage to resurface again, you would not need to fear my response. I would welcome your affections and you would certainly have mine.