This blog has provided me with more than just a place to rant. It has been an eye-opening walk through my life. It started with a need to be heard, to have my story told, but it has become something more than that. It was such a private part of my life, and Rett's, but I have learned that I am not alone, and my story is not unique. Perhaps the dates, people, places and details are different than others, but the feelings are shared by many other people.
Everyone has been hurt in their life, some deeper than others, but hurt just the same. Everyone has had loss in their life, a child, a lover, or a friend. Everyone has survived, gone on to live fulfilling, happy lives. As much as we think we can't...something within us forces us to get on, to get up and keep going. Is it faith that tomorrow will be better? Or hope that just around the corner something good is waiting for us?
I have had several nights over the last couple of months where I didn't want to see tomorrow, but something deep inside of me said "It will get better. Just give it one more try. Don't give up." I'm not sure whose voice it was. It could have been my survival instinct. It could have been the voice of reason. It could have been my logical side speaking to my emotional side. Or it could have been something more spiritual. Who or whatever it was, it is within each of us and it will protect us and support us when we think there is no hope.
The more I have shared with you, the more I have learned from you. The more I opened up, the more I received. I have talked more openly with people in the last two months, than I have ever spoken in my life. It feels good to share and to learn, and you have given me hope. And people have shared their stories with me. Each one unique, but still the same themes of loss, hurt and ultimately…survival.
There are better days ahead, and something good will come out of all of this...something good already has...I have learned that people do not judge me as harshly as I judge myself. There are good people in the world, and you are one of many.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Chapter 50 - The Letter
November 28th
"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives." - Richard Bach
Today is the saddest day of my life...it has always been the saddest day of my life...it will always be the saddest day of my life.
A dear friend, who is very spiritual in the true sense of the word, has suggested that writing a letter to my unborn child may help me sort through my feelings of guilt, and my inability to forgive myself. It has helped. I thought at first it was too private to share, but I have shared so much, why not this. It will then be permanently etched in the world of cyberspace as a testimony of my love.
______________________________________________________
Dearest cherished Silas James,
I know how special you are to me, so God must have you snuggled up close, to help you feel my warmth. I want you to know how much I love you and miss you. Your father and I both love you and someday we will be there to wrap our arms around you and hold you close for eternity, as you are our only child.
I can see your curly auburn hair wrapped around your sweet face, and your heart shaped lips just waiting for our kisses...and those dimples...they are just God's thumbprints from holding your face so tightly in her hands. I can hear your giggle as you are making the other angels laugh - seeing the humour in every day. You are clever like your father and have his eyes, dark and intense. Your ears are like mine...tiny, with your curls tucked behind. Your complexion is like mine too, soft and smooth, and your cheeks are rosy red. You smell like a baby...you never lost that smell. You are loving, kind and considerate of others.
My grandfather, grandmother and my aunt are with you, and they are keeping you company until I get there. They see so many similarities in you to their lost son and brother. They hug you tightly when you need comforting.
I need you to know that although I didn't hold you for very long, I have held you in my heart forever, and you are so loved.
We never had harsh words, or arguments, or time-outs, or fights about bedtime, or complaints about keeping the car out too late, but we have talked and shared everything. You are in my thoughts every day, each one wrapped with a hug and a kiss.
You are an angel...you are my angel, you are our angel, and we shall love you forever.
Lots of love, hugs, and kisses - enough for a lifetime,
Mom
______________________________________________________
This has been the hardest letter I have ever written, and each word is marked with a teardrop.
I wish I could share this letter with Rett. We should have written it together, and perhaps in some way we did.
"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives." - Richard Bach
Today is the saddest day of my life...it has always been the saddest day of my life...it will always be the saddest day of my life.
A dear friend, who is very spiritual in the true sense of the word, has suggested that writing a letter to my unborn child may help me sort through my feelings of guilt, and my inability to forgive myself. It has helped. I thought at first it was too private to share, but I have shared so much, why not this. It will then be permanently etched in the world of cyberspace as a testimony of my love.
______________________________________________________
Dearest cherished Silas James,
I know how special you are to me, so God must have you snuggled up close, to help you feel my warmth. I want you to know how much I love you and miss you. Your father and I both love you and someday we will be there to wrap our arms around you and hold you close for eternity, as you are our only child.
I can see your curly auburn hair wrapped around your sweet face, and your heart shaped lips just waiting for our kisses...and those dimples...they are just God's thumbprints from holding your face so tightly in her hands. I can hear your giggle as you are making the other angels laugh - seeing the humour in every day. You are clever like your father and have his eyes, dark and intense. Your ears are like mine...tiny, with your curls tucked behind. Your complexion is like mine too, soft and smooth, and your cheeks are rosy red. You smell like a baby...you never lost that smell. You are loving, kind and considerate of others.
My grandfather, grandmother and my aunt are with you, and they are keeping you company until I get there. They see so many similarities in you to their lost son and brother. They hug you tightly when you need comforting.
I need you to know that although I didn't hold you for very long, I have held you in my heart forever, and you are so loved.
We never had harsh words, or arguments, or time-outs, or fights about bedtime, or complaints about keeping the car out too late, but we have talked and shared everything. You are in my thoughts every day, each one wrapped with a hug and a kiss.
You are an angel...you are my angel, you are our angel, and we shall love you forever.
Lots of love, hugs, and kisses - enough for a lifetime,
Mom
______________________________________________________
This has been the hardest letter I have ever written, and each word is marked with a teardrop.
I wish I could share this letter with Rett. We should have written it together, and perhaps in some way we did.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Chapter 49 - End of the Line
While I was having coffee with a friend today our conversation turned to family lines and children and I realized that I am the end of the line in my family.
Our family has been in our small town since they arrived from Scotland in the late 1820's, and now it is done. Even though we have dispersed throughout the country, our small town will always be considered 'home'. We may live elsewhere, but our hearts will always be down east. I have always referred to it as 'home' and when speaking with people it confuses them, so I have taken to calling where I live now...'home' and down east 'home-home'. It seems odd to think of it being owned by strangers.
I can't imagine them walking down the paths that we have walked and them not knowing our family history or the trials and tribulations we have been through. It almost seems sacrilegious.
I guess I still have time to find someone who will cherish the land as we have, but they will never really 'know' it. We take things for granted in life, and never really appreciate them until they are gone...or almost gone. I never thought about this before, but here I am faced with another end.
Five generations of my family have lived in this picture perfect, serene corner of the world. It resembles Scotland with its cliffs, sea and rugged terrain. The people who live here must be tough and self-sufficient. It isn't a land for wimps and whiners...they can stick to the city. The winters are long and harsh, but oh when the spring finally arrives, what a feast for the eyes. Well worth the long wait. There is beauty in winter, with the contrast of the white snow against the indigo of the sea or the moonlit nights with the shimmering snow and the reflection on the dark waters. There is beauty in all seasons when your heart is in a place.
The sea is a backdrop, but still an integral part of our lives. We are always aware of its existence, but like most things we take it for granted. It has just been within the last several years that I have become aware of how it makes me feel. It is like a drug, and every once in a while I need a 'fix'. It is calming, and soothing. Its rhythmic motion can calm the most unnerved feelings, just like a gentle lullaby. The smell of the fresh air tainted with salt makes you breathe deeply to cleanse your soul, and it does cleanse.
How does one explain these things to strangers? I guess they will learn to appreciate it as we do, and they too will call it home.
Our family has been in our small town since they arrived from Scotland in the late 1820's, and now it is done. Even though we have dispersed throughout the country, our small town will always be considered 'home'. We may live elsewhere, but our hearts will always be down east. I have always referred to it as 'home' and when speaking with people it confuses them, so I have taken to calling where I live now...'home' and down east 'home-home'. It seems odd to think of it being owned by strangers.
I can't imagine them walking down the paths that we have walked and them not knowing our family history or the trials and tribulations we have been through. It almost seems sacrilegious.
I guess I still have time to find someone who will cherish the land as we have, but they will never really 'know' it. We take things for granted in life, and never really appreciate them until they are gone...or almost gone. I never thought about this before, but here I am faced with another end.
Five generations of my family have lived in this picture perfect, serene corner of the world. It resembles Scotland with its cliffs, sea and rugged terrain. The people who live here must be tough and self-sufficient. It isn't a land for wimps and whiners...they can stick to the city. The winters are long and harsh, but oh when the spring finally arrives, what a feast for the eyes. Well worth the long wait. There is beauty in winter, with the contrast of the white snow against the indigo of the sea or the moonlit nights with the shimmering snow and the reflection on the dark waters. There is beauty in all seasons when your heart is in a place.
The sea is a backdrop, but still an integral part of our lives. We are always aware of its existence, but like most things we take it for granted. It has just been within the last several years that I have become aware of how it makes me feel. It is like a drug, and every once in a while I need a 'fix'. It is calming, and soothing. Its rhythmic motion can calm the most unnerved feelings, just like a gentle lullaby. The smell of the fresh air tainted with salt makes you breathe deeply to cleanse your soul, and it does cleanse.
How does one explain these things to strangers? I guess they will learn to appreciate it as we do, and they too will call it home.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Chapter 48 - The Anniversary
This week will be a difficult one for me. The anniversary of the day I had the abortion is quickly approaching and it is, for lack of a better, more profound word...sad. It is always sad. These are dates I would much rather forget, but our memories are not within our control, they rule us.
I have tried to forget, or not mark the day, but it is there permanently, forever. So what do I do about it? Do I go to bed and just wait for it to pass? Do I busy myself and try to distract my attention? Or do I find some special way to deal with it?
Not that it gets any better as time passes, but this year I am dreading it, like none other. The memories are so close to the surface this year that I have to find a way to cope. That's all I can do...cope.
At my therapist's appointment today, I had a mini breakthrough (of sorts). She told me that if I don't go 'there', I will never be able to get over all of this. So...I am stuck. I dread, fear going to that dark, bottomless pit because I am not sure I can climb back out, but my recovery hinges on it. So, what do I do?
It seems so hopeless sometimes, a vicious circle, a world without end. I know what I have to do, but I can't do it. My mind is terrified of letting go, and letting it all come out.
I have very little recollection of the months after the abortion. I remember the Christmas charade with my family, but what I remember, is not as a participant, but more as an observer, if that makes any sense. Other than that, I remember nothing. I have an excellent memory, so there is definitely a loss of time here, or my mind has somehow turned off that portion of time to protect me. All I remember is an overwhelming sense of loss - feelings, but no specific happenings - nothing.
I think that is what I fear about going back 'there', of opening up that Pandora's Box, what will happen to me? Can I cope?
In my mind, I had thought that Rett and I could somehow go 'there' together. For some reason, it wasn't as fearful for me, if I weren't there alone. I had imagined that together, we could find a way to mark the date with an observance of some sort. Perhaps we could take our tiny heart pendants and do something with them, together. But that will never happen, and that hurts my heart. I will have to find a way to pay homage on my own. I haven't figured out how yet...but it will come to me eventually.
I have tried to forget, or not mark the day, but it is there permanently, forever. So what do I do about it? Do I go to bed and just wait for it to pass? Do I busy myself and try to distract my attention? Or do I find some special way to deal with it?
Not that it gets any better as time passes, but this year I am dreading it, like none other. The memories are so close to the surface this year that I have to find a way to cope. That's all I can do...cope.
At my therapist's appointment today, I had a mini breakthrough (of sorts). She told me that if I don't go 'there', I will never be able to get over all of this. So...I am stuck. I dread, fear going to that dark, bottomless pit because I am not sure I can climb back out, but my recovery hinges on it. So, what do I do?
It seems so hopeless sometimes, a vicious circle, a world without end. I know what I have to do, but I can't do it. My mind is terrified of letting go, and letting it all come out.
I have very little recollection of the months after the abortion. I remember the Christmas charade with my family, but what I remember, is not as a participant, but more as an observer, if that makes any sense. Other than that, I remember nothing. I have an excellent memory, so there is definitely a loss of time here, or my mind has somehow turned off that portion of time to protect me. All I remember is an overwhelming sense of loss - feelings, but no specific happenings - nothing.
I think that is what I fear about going back 'there', of opening up that Pandora's Box, what will happen to me? Can I cope?
In my mind, I had thought that Rett and I could somehow go 'there' together. For some reason, it wasn't as fearful for me, if I weren't there alone. I had imagined that together, we could find a way to mark the date with an observance of some sort. Perhaps we could take our tiny heart pendants and do something with them, together. But that will never happen, and that hurts my heart. I will have to find a way to pay homage on my own. I haven't figured out how yet...but it will come to me eventually.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Chapter 47 - King of Hell
I was speaking with one of my friends yesterday, filling her in on the happenings in my life the last couple of weeks, and she said something that struck a chord with me. She was so angry with Rett for what he had done to me, and I was intently listening to what all she wanted to say to him, and words started forming in my head - those angry words that I have been having so much trouble finding.
Finally, I think I am ready to be, not only angry, but done with him. There was always a part of me that wanted to hold onto the part of Rett that I liked, but I don't think that part of him was real. It was a figment of his imagination, something he created to suck me in, and others too.
Here is the final e-mail I should send to Rett.
________________________________________________________
How dare you!!!
What makes you think you have the right to tell me anything, let alone how to live my life, or to leave you alone!!! 26 years ago I did that…I left you alone and let you get away with murder - scott free, to merrily run away and hide, like the coward you were - and still are.
YOU questioned my integrity and here you were dallying with me while you were "in love" with someone else! I had the decency to be clear and upfront with both you and my husband. But really, why would I expect anything else from you but lies and deception…that is your modus operandi, always was, always will be.
"A much better man" - you make me laugh. The fact that you even include yourself in mankind is an insult to all those good men who are out there. You should be ashamed of your sociopathic-self, but that would require a conscience - which you do not possess. And to do this to me, after I have shown you nothing but kindness, compassion and honesty, is unforgivable. You have NO idea how to be a man!
26 years ago, I could blame your poor judgment and cowardice on you being young and stupid, but you're not young any more Rett. This time there is no doubt that you did this intentionally, and you shall have to pay for your transgressions from a much higher source than I. You reap what you sow Rett, so good luck, because I have a feeling there will be a lot of bad karma coming your way.
Oh yes…we are done, and as for the forgiveness…that was never mine to release you from - that too comes from a much higher being. Let's let him/her be your judge and jury. I know you don't believe in hell, and I know why, because you are terrified that one actually exists, and you are the King.
To take a heart and pulverize it - twice - goes beyond cruelty, that is sadistic. You need to get help, not from the like-thinking quacks you have been seeing for years, because obviously - they aren't helping.
Worry not for me, because I am and always will be, so much better than you, in every conceivable way.
Please respect my wishes and leave me to hell alone!
Annette
________________________________________________________
I have allowed Rett to be in control of my life for way too long...years, and it is time for me to take back the control. The only way I can do that is to finish with him, on my terms and not his. That was what happened twenty-six years ago...I never ended it. It was left hanging there like a torn limb, bleeding and aching and it never healed. I need to cut it off, bandage it and rehabilitate.
The healing begins today!
Finally, I think I am ready to be, not only angry, but done with him. There was always a part of me that wanted to hold onto the part of Rett that I liked, but I don't think that part of him was real. It was a figment of his imagination, something he created to suck me in, and others too.
Here is the final e-mail I should send to Rett.
________________________________________________________
How dare you!!!
What makes you think you have the right to tell me anything, let alone how to live my life, or to leave you alone!!! 26 years ago I did that…I left you alone and let you get away with murder - scott free, to merrily run away and hide, like the coward you were - and still are.
YOU questioned my integrity and here you were dallying with me while you were "in love" with someone else! I had the decency to be clear and upfront with both you and my husband. But really, why would I expect anything else from you but lies and deception…that is your modus operandi, always was, always will be.
"A much better man" - you make me laugh. The fact that you even include yourself in mankind is an insult to all those good men who are out there. You should be ashamed of your sociopathic-self, but that would require a conscience - which you do not possess. And to do this to me, after I have shown you nothing but kindness, compassion and honesty, is unforgivable. You have NO idea how to be a man!
26 years ago, I could blame your poor judgment and cowardice on you being young and stupid, but you're not young any more Rett. This time there is no doubt that you did this intentionally, and you shall have to pay for your transgressions from a much higher source than I. You reap what you sow Rett, so good luck, because I have a feeling there will be a lot of bad karma coming your way.
Oh yes…we are done, and as for the forgiveness…that was never mine to release you from - that too comes from a much higher being. Let's let him/her be your judge and jury. I know you don't believe in hell, and I know why, because you are terrified that one actually exists, and you are the King.
To take a heart and pulverize it - twice - goes beyond cruelty, that is sadistic. You need to get help, not from the like-thinking quacks you have been seeing for years, because obviously - they aren't helping.
Worry not for me, because I am and always will be, so much better than you, in every conceivable way.
Please respect my wishes and leave me to hell alone!
Annette
________________________________________________________
I have allowed Rett to be in control of my life for way too long...years, and it is time for me to take back the control. The only way I can do that is to finish with him, on my terms and not his. That was what happened twenty-six years ago...I never ended it. It was left hanging there like a torn limb, bleeding and aching and it never healed. I need to cut it off, bandage it and rehabilitate.
The healing begins today!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Chapter 46 - From Hate to Love
Going from hate to love is one of the longest journeys you will ever take. It isn't a trip many people plan to go on. I hope you never have to take it, because that would mean that you would have suffered intense hurt and I wish that on no one.
There isn't much written material, even on the internet, about going from hate to love. There are numerous articles concerning going from love to hate...which speaks volumes. If it is so common to go from love to hate – then why not the reverse? What is so different about that path? Is it because it involves forgiveness? There has to be a step of forgiveness in between hate and love, but you can go directly from love to hate - no waiting.
It keeps coming back to forgiveness, everything is about forgiveness.
I'm not sure Rett ever totally understood what it took for me to forgive him. He took the act of me forgiving him lightly because he never comprehended what damage he had done to my life. When we would talk about it (almost always at my initiative) he would get very quiet and the part of Rett that I liked would be there. He would listen intently and offer some things to the conversation, but invariably he would change the topic. It was a place he wasn't comfortable being in. He has never really dealt with his issues around me - he has chosen to avoid them or re-write them. That is very unhealthy behaviour.
I did find this song written by Shania Twain titled "Hate to Love" and I think she captures the feelings so well with her words:
Hate to Love
by Shania Twain
Midnight sky shining on my face
I feel the waves embracing me
I'm here to find
Some peace of mind
Time and time
Waits for me
It waits for me, yeah
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
Faded photographs
Of a picture-perfect love
Locked inside this frame of mind
Forgiving true is a trust betrayed
If time heals all it left me behind
It left me behind
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
Loneliness and innocence
As you invade my heart
I love to hate the truth of love
It's tearing me apart
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
"I'm afraid to say I need someone like you", oh how true those words are. When you are forgiving someone, moving from hate to love, you have to trust them again. You have to trust yourself and take a huge leap off the edge of your comfort zone. You want to believe in the best of people's souls. You want to believe that people are innately good. I don't think I am different from most people. I so wanted to believe that Rett had changed.
I think he wanted to believe he had changed too. Or, he wanted me to believe he had changed. I wish I could understand his motivation for wanting to convince me of this. I had already forgiven him, so what could he possibly gain? Whatever his reasons were, I was there, ready, and willing to participate in the delicate dance of forgiveness, so that I could move out of the dark place of hatred.
I have been re-reading the e-mails, the early ones, trying to see where it moved from hate to love, and I can't see it, not from what I wrote. I liked him, or the Rett that he portrayed in his writing. He appeared to be a sensitive man. He would pay such close attention to what I wrote and would answer all my questions in depth. And I enjoyed his writing because he was serious but could still keep his sense of humour, a quality that not many people possess.
Falling out of hate with someone is a euphoric feeling. To accept that you will no longer harbor feelings of hatred lightens your soul. But, if you no longer hate them...what do you feel in its place? You are not indifferent to the person, so you have to fill that void with something. I started by filling it with 'like'. I liked Rett.
It had been so long since I had someone (male) in my life that I liked. I had been with my husband for almost 26 years, and the last too many years, I didn't like him, or the man he had become. I forgot how nice it was to have someone who understood me, someone who was on my side, and someone who I could share things with. Rett and I shared something that I couldn't share with anyone else, and I never will.
In my imagination, I have to admit, that I did allow myself to wonder what it would be like if Rett and I could become a couple - but then I would quickly dismiss the idea as being so absurd and unobtainable.
Then there he was telling me he had feelings for me - it was as if my dream was becoming a reality. It was unbelievable to me. I remember, after I got off the phone holding me face in my hands, and saying out loud "Oh my God!" and then thinking...did that really just happen?
So, I was on my way to love from hate...just in a blink of the eye, because I wanted to go there. I had opened up my hardened heart to allow it to feel again. My mind had told it..."it's okay, he's safe. He won't hurt you again."
For Rett, there wasn't all that hate to love thing going on. For him, it was, in my opinion, such a relief being forgiven that he just thought he'd play along...have some fun - play with me for a while, as long as it didn't interfere with his agenda and his life. He wasn't going through what I was. He had his own agenda.
There isn't much written material, even on the internet, about going from hate to love. There are numerous articles concerning going from love to hate...which speaks volumes. If it is so common to go from love to hate – then why not the reverse? What is so different about that path? Is it because it involves forgiveness? There has to be a step of forgiveness in between hate and love, but you can go directly from love to hate - no waiting.
It keeps coming back to forgiveness, everything is about forgiveness.
I'm not sure Rett ever totally understood what it took for me to forgive him. He took the act of me forgiving him lightly because he never comprehended what damage he had done to my life. When we would talk about it (almost always at my initiative) he would get very quiet and the part of Rett that I liked would be there. He would listen intently and offer some things to the conversation, but invariably he would change the topic. It was a place he wasn't comfortable being in. He has never really dealt with his issues around me - he has chosen to avoid them or re-write them. That is very unhealthy behaviour.
I did find this song written by Shania Twain titled "Hate to Love" and I think she captures the feelings so well with her words:
Hate to Love
by Shania Twain
Midnight sky shining on my face
I feel the waves embracing me
I'm here to find
Some peace of mind
Time and time
Waits for me
It waits for me, yeah
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
Faded photographs
Of a picture-perfect love
Locked inside this frame of mind
Forgiving true is a trust betrayed
If time heals all it left me behind
It left me behind
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
Loneliness and innocence
As you invade my heart
I love to hate the truth of love
It's tearing me apart
So here I am again
Somewhere in between
Hate to love
Trying to find reality
In a dream
Hate to love
I'm afraid to say I need someone like you
Hate to love
I hate to love
"I'm afraid to say I need someone like you", oh how true those words are. When you are forgiving someone, moving from hate to love, you have to trust them again. You have to trust yourself and take a huge leap off the edge of your comfort zone. You want to believe in the best of people's souls. You want to believe that people are innately good. I don't think I am different from most people. I so wanted to believe that Rett had changed.
I think he wanted to believe he had changed too. Or, he wanted me to believe he had changed. I wish I could understand his motivation for wanting to convince me of this. I had already forgiven him, so what could he possibly gain? Whatever his reasons were, I was there, ready, and willing to participate in the delicate dance of forgiveness, so that I could move out of the dark place of hatred.
I have been re-reading the e-mails, the early ones, trying to see where it moved from hate to love, and I can't see it, not from what I wrote. I liked him, or the Rett that he portrayed in his writing. He appeared to be a sensitive man. He would pay such close attention to what I wrote and would answer all my questions in depth. And I enjoyed his writing because he was serious but could still keep his sense of humour, a quality that not many people possess.
Falling out of hate with someone is a euphoric feeling. To accept that you will no longer harbor feelings of hatred lightens your soul. But, if you no longer hate them...what do you feel in its place? You are not indifferent to the person, so you have to fill that void with something. I started by filling it with 'like'. I liked Rett.
It had been so long since I had someone (male) in my life that I liked. I had been with my husband for almost 26 years, and the last too many years, I didn't like him, or the man he had become. I forgot how nice it was to have someone who understood me, someone who was on my side, and someone who I could share things with. Rett and I shared something that I couldn't share with anyone else, and I never will.
In my imagination, I have to admit, that I did allow myself to wonder what it would be like if Rett and I could become a couple - but then I would quickly dismiss the idea as being so absurd and unobtainable.
Then there he was telling me he had feelings for me - it was as if my dream was becoming a reality. It was unbelievable to me. I remember, after I got off the phone holding me face in my hands, and saying out loud "Oh my God!" and then thinking...did that really just happen?
So, I was on my way to love from hate...just in a blink of the eye, because I wanted to go there. I had opened up my hardened heart to allow it to feel again. My mind had told it..."it's okay, he's safe. He won't hurt you again."
For Rett, there wasn't all that hate to love thing going on. For him, it was, in my opinion, such a relief being forgiven that he just thought he'd play along...have some fun - play with me for a while, as long as it didn't interfere with his agenda and his life. He wasn't going through what I was. He had his own agenda.
Chapter 45 - The Blindfold
I never could quite picture meeting Rett. For all the talking we did about it, I never felt comfortable with the idea of seeing him. I knew it was something that I had to do, and I would try so very hard to picture it.
There was a sense of fear inside me each time I would walk through the scenerio of our meeting. It wasn't that I was afraid of Rett. I was afraid of my reaction to seeing him, and his reaction to seeing me.
When we were talking on the phone I brought up the topic of coming to see him, and he made some stupid joke, and I said to him "You're afraid of seeing me, aren't you?" He fluffed off the question in his pompous style, but I truly felt he was afraid as well.
When you think about facing your fears, actually looking directly at them, it must terrify you too. If you are afraid of heights and you were standing on the edge of a cliff, wouldn't you be terrified? It isn't easy to come face to face with that which you dread.
My therapist tried to help me work through this. She would pull over a chair that she has in her office, and say "He's there sitting in that chair...talk to him." Seems simple, since I know it is just a chair, and he's not actually in it, but each time, I would be unable to speak or to even look at the chair. I would beg her to put the chair away. I wasn't ready, and I'm not sure I ever would have been ready.
I don't even know exactly what I am afraid of. I guess it is facing reality. I have been able to put away my feelings and I feared that when I saw him they would all come out. Not something that is easy to simulate or a place I wanted to go.
But I tried. I wrote about it, trying to work out the details of how it would happen, and then I could just concentrate on the feelings behind it. I couldn't even write from my perspective, I wrote from Rett's view.
The Blindfold:
You are in the hotel lobby using the house phone to call her room. You are not sure what to expect but your anxiety and excitement are palpable. “Hello again” she says as she answers the phone…”Come on up. It’s room 2010 and there’s something on the doorknob for you to put on before you come in.” You want to ask her what’s on the doorknob but something stops you. Instead you just say “See you in a couple of minutes.”
As you enter the elevator you can feel your heart beating a little quicker than normal. You are lost in your thoughts and then suddenly you look up and you are on the 10th floor. You’re so close and yet so far away.
What will you say when you see her? What will she do when she sees you? What is on the doorknob? You look up again and you are on the 18th floor. Soon all the waiting will be over. So much time has passed and so much has happened, but really it just seems like yesterday. The elevator stops and you are there.
You get off and start walking towards her room. Your mind is racing at the same speed as your heartbeat now. There’s the room…and on the doorknob is a blindfold. You hesitate…take a deep breath and knock. “Hello you” comes the familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Put on the blindfold and I'll open the door. I have one on too.” You’re not sure…but it sounds like an adventure and you trust her, so you oblige. “I have it on” you respond and you hear the door open.
“I want us to be together without all the pressure of exterior trappings. Let’s use our other senses” she says. She takes your hand in hers and leads you into her room. Her touch is tender and comforting somehow, but her hand seems so tiny in comparison to yours. She holds both your hands for a moment then says “Please hold me close and let me feel you again. Let me smell you...” You embrace and you can smell her sweet perfume. Her body is soft and her warmth is almost overwhelming.
“I have waited for this moment for a very long time” she says, “So have I” you answer. You both hold each other close and just...breathe...finally.
________________________________________________________
I didn't even realize when I wrote this how significant the blindfold was, it was just part of the story I had in my imagination. Now, looking back on it, I can see how I never could get myself to the point where I saw Rett - ever.
I guess I had a blindfold on during most of my journey with Rett.
There was a sense of fear inside me each time I would walk through the scenerio of our meeting. It wasn't that I was afraid of Rett. I was afraid of my reaction to seeing him, and his reaction to seeing me.
When we were talking on the phone I brought up the topic of coming to see him, and he made some stupid joke, and I said to him "You're afraid of seeing me, aren't you?" He fluffed off the question in his pompous style, but I truly felt he was afraid as well.
When you think about facing your fears, actually looking directly at them, it must terrify you too. If you are afraid of heights and you were standing on the edge of a cliff, wouldn't you be terrified? It isn't easy to come face to face with that which you dread.
My therapist tried to help me work through this. She would pull over a chair that she has in her office, and say "He's there sitting in that chair...talk to him." Seems simple, since I know it is just a chair, and he's not actually in it, but each time, I would be unable to speak or to even look at the chair. I would beg her to put the chair away. I wasn't ready, and I'm not sure I ever would have been ready.
I don't even know exactly what I am afraid of. I guess it is facing reality. I have been able to put away my feelings and I feared that when I saw him they would all come out. Not something that is easy to simulate or a place I wanted to go.
But I tried. I wrote about it, trying to work out the details of how it would happen, and then I could just concentrate on the feelings behind it. I couldn't even write from my perspective, I wrote from Rett's view.
The Blindfold:
You are in the hotel lobby using the house phone to call her room. You are not sure what to expect but your anxiety and excitement are palpable. “Hello again” she says as she answers the phone…”Come on up. It’s room 2010 and there’s something on the doorknob for you to put on before you come in.” You want to ask her what’s on the doorknob but something stops you. Instead you just say “See you in a couple of minutes.”
As you enter the elevator you can feel your heart beating a little quicker than normal. You are lost in your thoughts and then suddenly you look up and you are on the 10th floor. You’re so close and yet so far away.
What will you say when you see her? What will she do when she sees you? What is on the doorknob? You look up again and you are on the 18th floor. Soon all the waiting will be over. So much time has passed and so much has happened, but really it just seems like yesterday. The elevator stops and you are there.
You get off and start walking towards her room. Your mind is racing at the same speed as your heartbeat now. There’s the room…and on the doorknob is a blindfold. You hesitate…take a deep breath and knock. “Hello you” comes the familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Put on the blindfold and I'll open the door. I have one on too.” You’re not sure…but it sounds like an adventure and you trust her, so you oblige. “I have it on” you respond and you hear the door open.
“I want us to be together without all the pressure of exterior trappings. Let’s use our other senses” she says. She takes your hand in hers and leads you into her room. Her touch is tender and comforting somehow, but her hand seems so tiny in comparison to yours. She holds both your hands for a moment then says “Please hold me close and let me feel you again. Let me smell you...” You embrace and you can smell her sweet perfume. Her body is soft and her warmth is almost overwhelming.
“I have waited for this moment for a very long time” she says, “So have I” you answer. You both hold each other close and just...breathe...finally.
________________________________________________________
I didn't even realize when I wrote this how significant the blindfold was, it was just part of the story I had in my imagination. Now, looking back on it, I can see how I never could get myself to the point where I saw Rett - ever.
I guess I had a blindfold on during most of my journey with Rett.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Chapter 44 - Why oh Why?
When I write, sometimes the topics are too painful, or too private to share right away. I save them as Drafts and I leave them alone for a couple of days, then I go back and review them to see if the pain has diminished. Time does heal some things, because I find when I follow this routine, most times I can publish the posts later.
This next one has taken longer than the others. I have reviewed it several times, but each time, it would go back as a Draft. I could still feel the pain that I had when I wrote it. It was still too close to the surface.
I have been trying for the past couple of days to heal my heart. I can't stop the thoughts of Rett from rushing into my brain from time to time, but it is lessening with each day. And the rushes aren't overwhelming now. At first I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get enough air, but now I can get air again, finally. It has been a lot for my brain to absorb in these few short months. I had come from such a place of hatred to a much better place...and I won't go back to hatred, it takes too much of my energy.
Rett accused me of setting out on this journey loving him, and it shows how little he really knows about me or my pain. He, or his ego, assumed that I was somehow in love with him all those years ago. How could I possibly love someone who hurt me to the centre of my existence? There was no love there. There wasn't any at the time, and it didn't grow over those 25 plus years.
It is hard to explain hatred to someone else. It is a very personal feeling, and a very lonely one. But it does take a tremendous amount of energy to carry it through the years, and you do 'carry' it like a yoke around your neck. As you get older, the yoke tightens until you can no longer breathe or bear its burden.
A very dear friend of mine who reads my blog and probably knows me better than anyone on this earth, said when she was reading, she could almost feel my shoulders lifting. That's how this whole journey felt, especially in the earlier days, like my soul was lighter...it could dance.
These days, I know I have to keep busy and really work at keeping my mind occupied with other things. But as darkness falls I have this overwhelming sense of loss. I hate the nights. There are demons that lurk in each unseen corner of the night and they come out and play with your mind. As hard as I try to divert my attention, they still manage to creep in and upset me. My attention span is very short and hence my mind wanders off to where it can not go. I find myself re-routing my thoughts to a happy place, and I have to search for one.
It is the confusion of it all that makes me so despondent. I just don't understand. And god I want to understand. I want it to be so clear that I will have no questions. As clear as Rett's last e-mail was, I still don't understand what happened before. Why did he say those things? When I spoke with him on the phone why didn't he tell me about Marilyn then? Why did he wait until I sent him the e-mail before he mentioned that he had found someone? Why oh why?
There are some mysteries that are never meant to be solved. Some questions that are never to be answered. I'm just not sure why my life has to be surrounded by them.
This next one has taken longer than the others. I have reviewed it several times, but each time, it would go back as a Draft. I could still feel the pain that I had when I wrote it. It was still too close to the surface.
I have been trying for the past couple of days to heal my heart. I can't stop the thoughts of Rett from rushing into my brain from time to time, but it is lessening with each day. And the rushes aren't overwhelming now. At first I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get enough air, but now I can get air again, finally. It has been a lot for my brain to absorb in these few short months. I had come from such a place of hatred to a much better place...and I won't go back to hatred, it takes too much of my energy.
Rett accused me of setting out on this journey loving him, and it shows how little he really knows about me or my pain. He, or his ego, assumed that I was somehow in love with him all those years ago. How could I possibly love someone who hurt me to the centre of my existence? There was no love there. There wasn't any at the time, and it didn't grow over those 25 plus years.
It is hard to explain hatred to someone else. It is a very personal feeling, and a very lonely one. But it does take a tremendous amount of energy to carry it through the years, and you do 'carry' it like a yoke around your neck. As you get older, the yoke tightens until you can no longer breathe or bear its burden.
A very dear friend of mine who reads my blog and probably knows me better than anyone on this earth, said when she was reading, she could almost feel my shoulders lifting. That's how this whole journey felt, especially in the earlier days, like my soul was lighter...it could dance.
These days, I know I have to keep busy and really work at keeping my mind occupied with other things. But as darkness falls I have this overwhelming sense of loss. I hate the nights. There are demons that lurk in each unseen corner of the night and they come out and play with your mind. As hard as I try to divert my attention, they still manage to creep in and upset me. My attention span is very short and hence my mind wanders off to where it can not go. I find myself re-routing my thoughts to a happy place, and I have to search for one.
It is the confusion of it all that makes me so despondent. I just don't understand. And god I want to understand. I want it to be so clear that I will have no questions. As clear as Rett's last e-mail was, I still don't understand what happened before. Why did he say those things? When I spoke with him on the phone why didn't he tell me about Marilyn then? Why did he wait until I sent him the e-mail before he mentioned that he had found someone? Why oh why?
There are some mysteries that are never meant to be solved. Some questions that are never to be answered. I'm just not sure why my life has to be surrounded by them.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Chapter 43 - What is forgiveness?
I have been thinking about forgiveness so much these days. I started my journey with forgiveness and I have been trying to understand why I did that. I know what I thought at the time, but I have a feeling there were other underlying reasons that I haven't really uncovered.
I did some research on what exactly forgiveness is and I found this prayer that seemed to sum it up better than I could. As I have said before, I am not really religious, but the words are still strong no matter what you believe.
A prayer of forgiveness
Dear God, I choose as an act of my will, regardless of my feelings, to forgive the person who has wronged me. I release them, and I set myself free to Your healing. With Your help, I will no longer dwell on the situation or continue to talk about it. I thank You for forgiving me as I have forgiven them. I thank You for releasing me. I ask this in Jesus’ name, amen.
"...regardless of my feelings..." is so true. It seems to say that whether or not you have totally reconciled things in your heart, you can still forgive. One does not have to forget to forgive.
Okay, I just had another one of those coincidences. I was researching 'forgiveness and love' and the first hit that appeared was a website that contained this quote:
"Medical intuitive Caroline Myss, who, through her gift of intuitive sight sees the energy patterns that lead to illness, says, “By far the strongest poison to the human spirit is the inability to forgive oneself or another person.”
Caroline Myss wrote a book titled "Sacred Contracts" which I wrote about in an earlier chapter. It is a book that Rett suggested I read. Just another coincidence.
What made me type those words to Rett? I think I was trying to find it within myself to forgive - me. It would have been so much harder to type those words to myself than it was to send them to Rett. I can accept what I did on an intellectual level, but on a personal level is another story. Acceptance and forgiveness are two entirely different things. I am working on it, but I'm not there yet.
My heart aches if I spend too much time dwelling on the details. Not an ache that anyone can help with, but an emptiness that nothing can fill. I have never spent a lot of time thinking about it, because it is something that I know I can't reconcile or explain away. I just can not make it right, no matter what angle I approach it from. Yes, Rett lied to me, and it was his fault, but that doesn't help.
Below is an excerpt from "True Forgiveness" by Lynn Woodland (I found this on the web)
"True forgiveness is a shifting of attention away from the hurtful act, not in denial, but in release. It means identifying with the higher part of ourselves that was never harmed so we can see past the illusion of separateness to the reality of Oneness. As we understand ourselves to be one with the person who hurt us, forgiveness becomes self-forgiveness. As we transcend our belief in ourselves as victims, we are able to see the other person differently. Instead of seeing his or her “wrongness” we see the pain that motivated his or her actions. Living from a belief that doing harm brings personal gain is a prison of separateness, powerlessness and pain. Anyone who acts intentionally to harm another is trapped in this painful prison, even if he or she doesn’t recognize it as such. When we understand this, we can more easily feel compassion instead of rage."
If I were to paraphrase her, I think she is saying that through empathy and understanding we can achieve forgiveness. That's what I was working towards with Rett.
But it was such a tangled mess of emotions. It was like all the lines of a parachute that has gone through a dryer - you know there is a proper place for each one, but it's going to take a lot of time and patience to sort them out.
I just found this website that is written in language that is easily understood. I really don't like psycho-babble, but this site is easy to understand. Here is the link.
http://www.enotalone.com/article/2696.html
If you are struggling with forgiveness as I have been, read it...then read it again. I have read it several times over a period of several months, and each time I get more and more out of it. I particularly like the final two paragraphs:
"To take meaning and value out of any situation, simply ask, "What has this taught me? What lessons can I learn: about myself, about others and about my life? How can I use this new knowledge to change my thinking and behavior and help others avoid the same trap?"
In this light our past, instead of being meaningless and shameful, has a positive and life-enhancing value. By learning to handle our past, and by taking the steps to forgive ourselves in the true sense of the word, we can let go of the debilitating consequences of guilt, and finally move on."
Ponder on it for a while.
I did some research on what exactly forgiveness is and I found this prayer that seemed to sum it up better than I could. As I have said before, I am not really religious, but the words are still strong no matter what you believe.
A prayer of forgiveness
Dear God, I choose as an act of my will, regardless of my feelings, to forgive the person who has wronged me. I release them, and I set myself free to Your healing. With Your help, I will no longer dwell on the situation or continue to talk about it. I thank You for forgiving me as I have forgiven them. I thank You for releasing me. I ask this in Jesus’ name, amen.
"...regardless of my feelings..." is so true. It seems to say that whether or not you have totally reconciled things in your heart, you can still forgive. One does not have to forget to forgive.
Okay, I just had another one of those coincidences. I was researching 'forgiveness and love' and the first hit that appeared was a website that contained this quote:
"Medical intuitive Caroline Myss, who, through her gift of intuitive sight sees the energy patterns that lead to illness, says, “By far the strongest poison to the human spirit is the inability to forgive oneself or another person.”
Caroline Myss wrote a book titled "Sacred Contracts" which I wrote about in an earlier chapter. It is a book that Rett suggested I read. Just another coincidence.
What made me type those words to Rett? I think I was trying to find it within myself to forgive - me. It would have been so much harder to type those words to myself than it was to send them to Rett. I can accept what I did on an intellectual level, but on a personal level is another story. Acceptance and forgiveness are two entirely different things. I am working on it, but I'm not there yet.
My heart aches if I spend too much time dwelling on the details. Not an ache that anyone can help with, but an emptiness that nothing can fill. I have never spent a lot of time thinking about it, because it is something that I know I can't reconcile or explain away. I just can not make it right, no matter what angle I approach it from. Yes, Rett lied to me, and it was his fault, but that doesn't help.
Below is an excerpt from "True Forgiveness" by Lynn Woodland (I found this on the web)
"True forgiveness is a shifting of attention away from the hurtful act, not in denial, but in release. It means identifying with the higher part of ourselves that was never harmed so we can see past the illusion of separateness to the reality of Oneness. As we understand ourselves to be one with the person who hurt us, forgiveness becomes self-forgiveness. As we transcend our belief in ourselves as victims, we are able to see the other person differently. Instead of seeing his or her “wrongness” we see the pain that motivated his or her actions. Living from a belief that doing harm brings personal gain is a prison of separateness, powerlessness and pain. Anyone who acts intentionally to harm another is trapped in this painful prison, even if he or she doesn’t recognize it as such. When we understand this, we can more easily feel compassion instead of rage."
If I were to paraphrase her, I think she is saying that through empathy and understanding we can achieve forgiveness. That's what I was working towards with Rett.
But it was such a tangled mess of emotions. It was like all the lines of a parachute that has gone through a dryer - you know there is a proper place for each one, but it's going to take a lot of time and patience to sort them out.
I just found this website that is written in language that is easily understood. I really don't like psycho-babble, but this site is easy to understand. Here is the link.
http://www.enotalone.com/article/2696.html
If you are struggling with forgiveness as I have been, read it...then read it again. I have read it several times over a period of several months, and each time I get more and more out of it. I particularly like the final two paragraphs:
"To take meaning and value out of any situation, simply ask, "What has this taught me? What lessons can I learn: about myself, about others and about my life? How can I use this new knowledge to change my thinking and behavior and help others avoid the same trap?"
In this light our past, instead of being meaningless and shameful, has a positive and life-enhancing value. By learning to handle our past, and by taking the steps to forgive ourselves in the true sense of the word, we can let go of the debilitating consequences of guilt, and finally move on."
Ponder on it for a while.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Chapter 42 - The Cardinal
I have to tell you a story in order to explain what happened today. I have decided to make a list of the coincidences that happen for the next week, so I can document how often they happen, and if I can, decipher where they come from.
As you know this spring was not an easy one for me. I spent a tremendous amount of time inside my head. My normal chores this spring became tedious disturbances to my time being pensive. But I had to do some work outside. I remember being outside doing things from rote, like raking the lawn, but my mind rarely was on the task at hand. It would take something significant to snap me back to reality. One such reality check came from an unlikely source. It was a cardinal.
It is not uncommon to have cardinals around in spring. They are building nests, mating and they are boisterous. I don't have great eyesight, especially outside, so often I miss seeing them, but I rarely miss hearing them - good hearing makes up for the poor eyesight. But cardinals are most often in tree tops or on high wires, they are not often seen on the ground.
But not my cardinal. I learned from my ex-father-in-law that if you call to a cardinal they will actually answer you back. I have done this often. This particular cardinal visited with me this spring and summer - often. Each time I was outside I could count on him making an appearance. He was keeping me company. Often, late in the evening I would sit outside on my deck, under my trees, and I would write, and invariable my cardinal would show up and sing to me.
One evening in particular I was writing to Rett and out of the corner of my eye I saw something fall out of the trees and land beside the pool. It fell so quickly it made me look up. At first I thought it was a dead leaf, but then it moved, closer to me. It was my cardinal. I sat quietly, not moving, and he kept coming closer, and closer, until I could see him clearly. It was as if he knew I couldn't see him before when he was perched in the trees serenading me. He stayed with me for several minutes, then off he flew. He repeated this nightly visit most of the summer.
I found this tiny visitor comforting for some reason. It was as if he knew I needed company - a distraction from my thoughts. It touched me and I decided to share my little bird-tale with Rett. Here is what I wrote...
"I am sitting on my deck in my backyard, working on my laptop and enjoying the cool breeze on this beautiful sunny day, waiting for the sun to set so that I can take a dip in the pool (I only like to swim when the air is cool and the water is warm), and my favourite visitor just popped by.
There is this cardinal who has been visiting me since early spring, and he will even answer when I call him…most times. He is beautiful, proud, confident, agile, and bright red. Often he will come by for a visit when I am working outside and just sit in a nearby limp and sing to me. Sometimes he will swoop down beside me and surprise me…never too close, but just close enough for me to get a glimpse of his beautiful plumage…then off he goes until our next encounter. I never know when, but I am confident he will always be back. He never fails to make me smile and brighten my day. I have decided to nickname him RJ, because he reminds me of you."
Rett loved my little story and said that things like that happen for a reason. He said the cardinal was there to console me.
RJ left me the end of August sometime, and I have never seen or heard him since. I wonder if he will be back next spring to keep me company?
Back to my coincidence of the day. This morning, I was working in my office and I heard a song from a music box. We are having a garage sale to raise money for charity and the items are being stored in the office just behind mine. The song playing on the music box was "I'd like to teach the world to sing".
On one of those Get to Know your friends questionnaires there was a question about "What would you do if you won a million dollars?" and Rett had said "I'd teach the world to sing". I sat there in my office and just smiled, another coincidence. A few minutes passed and then the song on the music box changed to "Lara's Theme" from the movie Dr. Zhivago, which has always been a favourite song of mine. Okay, now I have to go over and investigate.
Two woman are in the office surveying the items and one is holding the music box. Normally music boxes are...boxes, but not the one that I have been hearing. It is a cardinal, sitting on a tree branch. I bought it and brought it home.
Coincidences, ya gotta love 'em! Just roll with them.
As you know this spring was not an easy one for me. I spent a tremendous amount of time inside my head. My normal chores this spring became tedious disturbances to my time being pensive. But I had to do some work outside. I remember being outside doing things from rote, like raking the lawn, but my mind rarely was on the task at hand. It would take something significant to snap me back to reality. One such reality check came from an unlikely source. It was a cardinal.
It is not uncommon to have cardinals around in spring. They are building nests, mating and they are boisterous. I don't have great eyesight, especially outside, so often I miss seeing them, but I rarely miss hearing them - good hearing makes up for the poor eyesight. But cardinals are most often in tree tops or on high wires, they are not often seen on the ground.
But not my cardinal. I learned from my ex-father-in-law that if you call to a cardinal they will actually answer you back. I have done this often. This particular cardinal visited with me this spring and summer - often. Each time I was outside I could count on him making an appearance. He was keeping me company. Often, late in the evening I would sit outside on my deck, under my trees, and I would write, and invariable my cardinal would show up and sing to me.
One evening in particular I was writing to Rett and out of the corner of my eye I saw something fall out of the trees and land beside the pool. It fell so quickly it made me look up. At first I thought it was a dead leaf, but then it moved, closer to me. It was my cardinal. I sat quietly, not moving, and he kept coming closer, and closer, until I could see him clearly. It was as if he knew I couldn't see him before when he was perched in the trees serenading me. He stayed with me for several minutes, then off he flew. He repeated this nightly visit most of the summer.
I found this tiny visitor comforting for some reason. It was as if he knew I needed company - a distraction from my thoughts. It touched me and I decided to share my little bird-tale with Rett. Here is what I wrote...
"I am sitting on my deck in my backyard, working on my laptop and enjoying the cool breeze on this beautiful sunny day, waiting for the sun to set so that I can take a dip in the pool (I only like to swim when the air is cool and the water is warm), and my favourite visitor just popped by.
There is this cardinal who has been visiting me since early spring, and he will even answer when I call him…most times. He is beautiful, proud, confident, agile, and bright red. Often he will come by for a visit when I am working outside and just sit in a nearby limp and sing to me. Sometimes he will swoop down beside me and surprise me…never too close, but just close enough for me to get a glimpse of his beautiful plumage…then off he goes until our next encounter. I never know when, but I am confident he will always be back. He never fails to make me smile and brighten my day. I have decided to nickname him RJ, because he reminds me of you."
Rett loved my little story and said that things like that happen for a reason. He said the cardinal was there to console me.
RJ left me the end of August sometime, and I have never seen or heard him since. I wonder if he will be back next spring to keep me company?
Back to my coincidence of the day. This morning, I was working in my office and I heard a song from a music box. We are having a garage sale to raise money for charity and the items are being stored in the office just behind mine. The song playing on the music box was "I'd like to teach the world to sing".
On one of those Get to Know your friends questionnaires there was a question about "What would you do if you won a million dollars?" and Rett had said "I'd teach the world to sing". I sat there in my office and just smiled, another coincidence. A few minutes passed and then the song on the music box changed to "Lara's Theme" from the movie Dr. Zhivago, which has always been a favourite song of mine. Okay, now I have to go over and investigate.
Two woman are in the office surveying the items and one is holding the music box. Normally music boxes are...boxes, but not the one that I have been hearing. It is a cardinal, sitting on a tree branch. I bought it and brought it home.
Coincidences, ya gotta love 'em! Just roll with them.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Chapter 41 - Remembrance Day
For several reasons, Remembrance Day is a memorable day in my life. My great uncles on my mother's side of my family all served in the Second World War. One lost his life and another was a Prisoner of War in Japan for over four years. The third great uncle survived. On this special day of remembrance I often go to the ceremonies and bring their memories close to my heart. I am so proud of their courage and their strength. This year I decided to stay home and think about them in my own way.
November 11, 1981 was also the day that I received confirmation from the clinic that I was pregnant. I can remember exactly where I was sitting, what I was looking at while I was waiting for the nurse to find my results, what I was wearing, and what it felt like to have the bottom fall out of my life. That's not an odd analogy, because when you receive news like that, it is as if you are in a free-fall, spinning out of control and you have no idea where you will land. I remember the nurse's voice as she said "Annette...I am sorry, but it is positive." There is no elation at university clinics when they give out news of a pregnancy, unlike other doctors' offices. She truly felt badly for me, and I appreciated her demeanor.
If it hadn't been Remembrance Day, I wonder if I would recall the exact date - but it was, and I do. I will never forget the feelings after I got off the phone. The thoughts that were running ramped through my head. And I couldn't do anything. I was alone when I called, so I just sat on the couch for what seemed like hours. I was frozen in time. My head was doing all the moving that was necessary. This can't be happening to me. How did this happen to me? What do I do now? Oh it was a horrible day - to remember.
And then I think of my uncle in a prison camp, and how his days must have been. How dare I complain about my horrible day. I don't have anything to complain about compared to the horror he endured. We are a family of survivors. We do not give in easily to the pressures this life puts upon us. We are fighters. There is something in our souls that makes us survive, and who am I to question that.
November 11, 1981 was also the day that I received confirmation from the clinic that I was pregnant. I can remember exactly where I was sitting, what I was looking at while I was waiting for the nurse to find my results, what I was wearing, and what it felt like to have the bottom fall out of my life. That's not an odd analogy, because when you receive news like that, it is as if you are in a free-fall, spinning out of control and you have no idea where you will land. I remember the nurse's voice as she said "Annette...I am sorry, but it is positive." There is no elation at university clinics when they give out news of a pregnancy, unlike other doctors' offices. She truly felt badly for me, and I appreciated her demeanor.
If it hadn't been Remembrance Day, I wonder if I would recall the exact date - but it was, and I do. I will never forget the feelings after I got off the phone. The thoughts that were running ramped through my head. And I couldn't do anything. I was alone when I called, so I just sat on the couch for what seemed like hours. I was frozen in time. My head was doing all the moving that was necessary. This can't be happening to me. How did this happen to me? What do I do now? Oh it was a horrible day - to remember.
And then I think of my uncle in a prison camp, and how his days must have been. How dare I complain about my horrible day. I don't have anything to complain about compared to the horror he endured. We are a family of survivors. We do not give in easily to the pressures this life puts upon us. We are fighters. There is something in our souls that makes us survive, and who am I to question that.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Chapter 40 - Not good enough
Okay, here it is, the truth of my life - I have always thought I wasn't good enough. You're not stupid, so you have probably figured that out about me by now. Not really that hard to tell if you have been reading between my lines. There had to be some underlying reason for me, being me. I don't know where it comes from, and so far my therapy hasn't helped in that area. I think that there are just some things one is born with - like a large nose or blond hair - I got this.
When I was younger I started taking piano lessons, not as a child of six, but I think I was twelve or thirteen. I had an amazing piano teacher, who played the organ at the Catholic Church in our small town, and she had the voice of an angel. After she had been teaching me for about 3 years she had a heart attack and stopped teaching - except for her daughter and me. She told me I was good, and she wanted to keep helping me learn. Each year, there was a recital. I never participated, even though she wanted me to. I never felt I was good enough.
I also sing. I love to sing. I sang at my cousin's wedding many moons ago, and also at my sister's wedding. People said I was good. But, I never thought I was good enough.
Last year I decided to give it a whirl again after many years of not singing. The husband of a friend of mine, has created a small studio in his basement, and they asked me to come and record something. I chose Jann Arden's "Good Mother" because I love the song. The words speak to me, because my mother is such a huge part of my life. I practiced for a couple of weeks before I went over to record. I got there and I was soo freakin' nervous it wasn't even funny. You can't be nervous and sing well - it just doesn't work that way. Well, I sounded awful and I knew it. I stopped recording - because I just wasn't good enough.
I don't think we need to re-hash the loves of my life - we all know how I interpret my track record with them - let's just say, I just wasn't good enough.
Now I am at the point where I want to write this book, I want to tell my story, I NEED to tell this story. As one of my anonymous commentors just wrote - I have to think about other people who are going through or who have been through my hell and I need to help them, by telling my story - but what if I'm not good enough?
I just want to be good enough at something in life - to make a difference in someone's life. I do want to help someone but in order to do that I have to put myself 'out' there to be judged. I am not sure I am up to that. But then again, what choice do I have - because I have to do it.
When I was younger I started taking piano lessons, not as a child of six, but I think I was twelve or thirteen. I had an amazing piano teacher, who played the organ at the Catholic Church in our small town, and she had the voice of an angel. After she had been teaching me for about 3 years she had a heart attack and stopped teaching - except for her daughter and me. She told me I was good, and she wanted to keep helping me learn. Each year, there was a recital. I never participated, even though she wanted me to. I never felt I was good enough.
I also sing. I love to sing. I sang at my cousin's wedding many moons ago, and also at my sister's wedding. People said I was good. But, I never thought I was good enough.
Last year I decided to give it a whirl again after many years of not singing. The husband of a friend of mine, has created a small studio in his basement, and they asked me to come and record something. I chose Jann Arden's "Good Mother" because I love the song. The words speak to me, because my mother is such a huge part of my life. I practiced for a couple of weeks before I went over to record. I got there and I was soo freakin' nervous it wasn't even funny. You can't be nervous and sing well - it just doesn't work that way. Well, I sounded awful and I knew it. I stopped recording - because I just wasn't good enough.
I don't think we need to re-hash the loves of my life - we all know how I interpret my track record with them - let's just say, I just wasn't good enough.
Now I am at the point where I want to write this book, I want to tell my story, I NEED to tell this story. As one of my anonymous commentors just wrote - I have to think about other people who are going through or who have been through my hell and I need to help them, by telling my story - but what if I'm not good enough?
I just want to be good enough at something in life - to make a difference in someone's life. I do want to help someone but in order to do that I have to put myself 'out' there to be judged. I am not sure I am up to that. But then again, what choice do I have - because I have to do it.
Chapter 39 - The Anger
Anger is defined as "A strong passion or emotion of displeasure or antagonism, excited by a real or supposed injury or insult to one's self or others, or by the intent to do such injury." Tonight for the first time I am feeling anger. I reread Rett's e-mail for the first time in a month and now I am angry. At first I was hurt and hence the reason why I couldn't read it again until today.
I want revenge. I want to hurt him. I want him injured, because he injured and insulted me - with intent.
But what can I do? Just like when he hurt me all those years ago, I feel helpless and hopeless. AND I HATE FEELING LIKE THAT!!!! I am not that same woman. I am so much more than that woman, and I don't want to take this lying down. I want to take some sort of action. I want to feel empowered instead of powerless. I can not let this man ruin the next 26 years of my life. I will not!!!
Revenge is just not enough, because I want him to suffer and none of the things I have thought about have life-long affects, so what is the point. I am just tired of taking his abuse and whimpering away to a corner to lick my wounds. He needs to pay for what he has done. He needs to be responsible for his actions!!! Why do I have to pay? Why not him? I let him get away with being an asshole. I let everyone get away with treating me badly and frankly - why should I? I didn't deserve to be treated like this, and why am I putting up with it. Why can't I have my say? Why can't I be as cruel as he?
But is being angry just giving him back the power over my life? By being angry am I not showing that he still matters in my life? I need to get to the point of indifference don't I? Right now, I am not there...I am at angry and I WANT PAYBACK.
Anger is just another phase of recovery - something I have to go through to get over it. And I will get it out of my system by writing, not acting!
I want revenge. I want to hurt him. I want him injured, because he injured and insulted me - with intent.
But what can I do? Just like when he hurt me all those years ago, I feel helpless and hopeless. AND I HATE FEELING LIKE THAT!!!! I am not that same woman. I am so much more than that woman, and I don't want to take this lying down. I want to take some sort of action. I want to feel empowered instead of powerless. I can not let this man ruin the next 26 years of my life. I will not!!!
Revenge is just not enough, because I want him to suffer and none of the things I have thought about have life-long affects, so what is the point. I am just tired of taking his abuse and whimpering away to a corner to lick my wounds. He needs to pay for what he has done. He needs to be responsible for his actions!!! Why do I have to pay? Why not him? I let him get away with being an asshole. I let everyone get away with treating me badly and frankly - why should I? I didn't deserve to be treated like this, and why am I putting up with it. Why can't I have my say? Why can't I be as cruel as he?
But is being angry just giving him back the power over my life? By being angry am I not showing that he still matters in my life? I need to get to the point of indifference don't I? Right now, I am not there...I am at angry and I WANT PAYBACK.
Anger is just another phase of recovery - something I have to go through to get over it. And I will get it out of my system by writing, not acting!
Friday, November 9, 2007
Chapter 38 - Sense of Need
I am having a rough night. My husband moved out his belongings tonight and that marks another ending in my life. I have had a lot of endings over the last couple of months, and I am trying desperately to see where the new beginnings are. It hasn't been easy.
I haven't spoken about my husband much because it really wasn't part of my story with Rett...but it is part of my story with Rett. I told you I met my husband four months after I finished with Rett. I needed to find a safe place to land and I thought I had found it. He wasn't unkind or unpleasant but he wasn't a good man either. But he wanted to be with me at a time in my life when I thought no one wanted me...or would ever want me. All my life I had felt unlovable and Rett had definitely proved me right, so when my husband came along, my hopes were lifted. He was such a bad choice for a myriad of reasons, but I was blind to them. All I could see was another living, breathing human being who wanted to be with me - damaged, worn, tattered, torn - me. How lucky was I?
I have mentioned this before but I think it is important enough to mention again, woman who have been traumatized either mentally or physically tend to end up with abusive partners. Their self-esteem is so low that they will tolerate abusive relationships. I think it goes much deeper than that - I think that abusive men can hone in on a traumatized or abused woman. They are 'attracted' to woman who are weak or weakened. They are like dogs who can smell fear. They can sense that we are needy and will 'settle' for less than we deserve.
That's what happened to me. I met my husband at a bar and he was the first person to pay attention to me since Rett. Oh to have the foresight that I have now - to know that I was extremely vulnerable.
My husband wasn't an abuser in the true sense of the word, but he was a user - just no 'ab's (little humour). He used me, and I allowed him to use me. I knew he was doing it, but in order to keep him happy, I allowed it to continue. I basically paid him to be with me when I look at it clinically.
That last sentence has made me stop writing for hours because it hurts so much to see it in black and white. But it is the truth. I doubt that if I hadn't had money he would have stayed with me. It has all been about the money for him. He fell out of love with me many years ago, and I'm not sure I ever loved him.
I thought about leaving him often, but could not see a way out. I thought that this was all my life was going to be. But it wasn't enough to feel nothing. Something inside of me wanted more, to feel more, to give more to someone who deserved me.
Life has an odd way of awakening us.
I haven't spoken about my husband much because it really wasn't part of my story with Rett...but it is part of my story with Rett. I told you I met my husband four months after I finished with Rett. I needed to find a safe place to land and I thought I had found it. He wasn't unkind or unpleasant but he wasn't a good man either. But he wanted to be with me at a time in my life when I thought no one wanted me...or would ever want me. All my life I had felt unlovable and Rett had definitely proved me right, so when my husband came along, my hopes were lifted. He was such a bad choice for a myriad of reasons, but I was blind to them. All I could see was another living, breathing human being who wanted to be with me - damaged, worn, tattered, torn - me. How lucky was I?
I have mentioned this before but I think it is important enough to mention again, woman who have been traumatized either mentally or physically tend to end up with abusive partners. Their self-esteem is so low that they will tolerate abusive relationships. I think it goes much deeper than that - I think that abusive men can hone in on a traumatized or abused woman. They are 'attracted' to woman who are weak or weakened. They are like dogs who can smell fear. They can sense that we are needy and will 'settle' for less than we deserve.
That's what happened to me. I met my husband at a bar and he was the first person to pay attention to me since Rett. Oh to have the foresight that I have now - to know that I was extremely vulnerable.
My husband wasn't an abuser in the true sense of the word, but he was a user - just no 'ab's (little humour). He used me, and I allowed him to use me. I knew he was doing it, but in order to keep him happy, I allowed it to continue. I basically paid him to be with me when I look at it clinically.
That last sentence has made me stop writing for hours because it hurts so much to see it in black and white. But it is the truth. I doubt that if I hadn't had money he would have stayed with me. It has all been about the money for him. He fell out of love with me many years ago, and I'm not sure I ever loved him.
I thought about leaving him often, but could not see a way out. I thought that this was all my life was going to be. But it wasn't enough to feel nothing. Something inside of me wanted more, to feel more, to give more to someone who deserved me.
Life has an odd way of awakening us.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Chapter 37 - Head vs Heart
I created my HotMail account just to contact Rett. I wanted anonymity and it is achievable through an account with HotMail. But I am having trouble going in there now. Each time I have new mail, my heart does a fluttery thing. I know it won't be from him, but apparently my heart doesn't yet.
The head and the heart are rarely on the same page. They are often at war with one another and I'm not sure who wins more often. I would like to say my head, but my actions over the last several months tell me my heart was in charge. My therapist refers to it as two separate people; one representing my hurt side, the other my protective side. Don't laugh - we all have two sides to our personalities - I am just more aware of mine than perhaps you are. They duke it out from time to time and leave me exhausted from the battle. When I am at peace, they are both in agreement or at least form a truce.
There hasn't been a truce yet. I can hear the fighting all the time. It never, ever stops. I know it will someday, just not today. I can't imagine how good it will feel when it happens, but it must be peaceful.
Each time I think of Rett, which is still way more than I should, the battle starts. Just today for instance, I went for a walk, trying to get back into my old routine. Exercise is good for the mind, body and soul, so off I went into the cool fall air. I am walking along, listening to my MP3 blasting out Eva Cassidy and I reach into my pocket to ratchet up the sound, and I look at the sleeve of my coat - it is plaid. I have had this coat for umpteen years but it is the only winter coat that 'fits' me now, the others are just too big. I never before made the connection with the plaid and Rett, but there it was today. As I told you earlier, Rett is Scottish and his family has a tartan - and yes, oh yes...that's the one on the cuffs and inside the hood of my coat. Do I beckon these images or do they just appear? Haunting isn't it?
I can't seem to get away from him. He is everywhere. Last night I was watching my favourite soap opera after I got home from work. It is light and not really based on reality, so it is a nice way to escape. Well, there it was - Enrique Iglesias singing - yup, you guessed it - Somebody's Me. Rett's memory is everywhere. I just have to embrace the memories and roll with them, because fighting them is just too overwhelming. They will surround me for a while...and then they will be less frequent, but history has taught me...they will never go away. My head and my heart will hold him there, until they cease to be.
The head and the heart are rarely on the same page. They are often at war with one another and I'm not sure who wins more often. I would like to say my head, but my actions over the last several months tell me my heart was in charge. My therapist refers to it as two separate people; one representing my hurt side, the other my protective side. Don't laugh - we all have two sides to our personalities - I am just more aware of mine than perhaps you are. They duke it out from time to time and leave me exhausted from the battle. When I am at peace, they are both in agreement or at least form a truce.
There hasn't been a truce yet. I can hear the fighting all the time. It never, ever stops. I know it will someday, just not today. I can't imagine how good it will feel when it happens, but it must be peaceful.
Each time I think of Rett, which is still way more than I should, the battle starts. Just today for instance, I went for a walk, trying to get back into my old routine. Exercise is good for the mind, body and soul, so off I went into the cool fall air. I am walking along, listening to my MP3 blasting out Eva Cassidy and I reach into my pocket to ratchet up the sound, and I look at the sleeve of my coat - it is plaid. I have had this coat for umpteen years but it is the only winter coat that 'fits' me now, the others are just too big. I never before made the connection with the plaid and Rett, but there it was today. As I told you earlier, Rett is Scottish and his family has a tartan - and yes, oh yes...that's the one on the cuffs and inside the hood of my coat. Do I beckon these images or do they just appear? Haunting isn't it?
I can't seem to get away from him. He is everywhere. Last night I was watching my favourite soap opera after I got home from work. It is light and not really based on reality, so it is a nice way to escape. Well, there it was - Enrique Iglesias singing - yup, you guessed it - Somebody's Me. Rett's memory is everywhere. I just have to embrace the memories and roll with them, because fighting them is just too overwhelming. They will surround me for a while...and then they will be less frequent, but history has taught me...they will never go away. My head and my heart will hold him there, until they cease to be.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Chapter 36 - Listen
How well do we ever really know another person? Is it possible to know someone other than ourselves? I think that we only know the surface of someone, and maybe down to the second layer if we are really lucky. But to totally know someone...I don't think it ever happens.
To know someone takes a tremendous effort and investment of time, and really how often do we take the time. We meet people everyday, we do the standard greetings and exchanges but do we listen? We absorb what others say but then we throw it away or file it under 'useless knowledge'. We are a superficial society with very little true depth. It's not our fault, as listeners, it's our fault as sharers.
How much of ourselves do we share with others? We sometimes start and then we see that glance at the watch or that far-away look in the eyes and we stop. We edit ourselves all the time. We start telling a story and our listeners seem disinterested so we change the topic or stop talking all together. We don't allow people inside to see who we truly are. We don't want to invade their space.
Do we really want to know our friends or do we just want them to think we want to know them? How much time have you spent over the last week truly listening to someone you say you care about? Take a minute and think about it - don't answer quickly - because you will be wrong. Did you really listen? If there was a quiz a day after the conversation, could you answer 10 questions about the conversation? Or were you thinking about yourself and some menial chore that needed to get done? Or were you half-listening while watching something on the television?
I think we have lost the art of listening. Our lives are full and we are so busy that multi-tasking is almost second nature to us, but at what cost? Do we take that time while someone else is holding the conversation to think about all the items that still remain on our "To Do List"? How sad is that!?
How can we regain our listening skills? Simple. Open your mind and engage in the conversation. Repeat what the person is saying with some insight of your own. Empathize with the speaker as a caring person should. Do not recount a story of your own that in your mind is similar to the speaker's - that's not listening, that's bringing things back to you. This is supposed to be about the other person and not you.
Take the time to care about someone other than yourself. It is time well spent because there will come a day when you will need to be repaid for your investment.
To know someone takes a tremendous effort and investment of time, and really how often do we take the time. We meet people everyday, we do the standard greetings and exchanges but do we listen? We absorb what others say but then we throw it away or file it under 'useless knowledge'. We are a superficial society with very little true depth. It's not our fault, as listeners, it's our fault as sharers.
How much of ourselves do we share with others? We sometimes start and then we see that glance at the watch or that far-away look in the eyes and we stop. We edit ourselves all the time. We start telling a story and our listeners seem disinterested so we change the topic or stop talking all together. We don't allow people inside to see who we truly are. We don't want to invade their space.
Do we really want to know our friends or do we just want them to think we want to know them? How much time have you spent over the last week truly listening to someone you say you care about? Take a minute and think about it - don't answer quickly - because you will be wrong. Did you really listen? If there was a quiz a day after the conversation, could you answer 10 questions about the conversation? Or were you thinking about yourself and some menial chore that needed to get done? Or were you half-listening while watching something on the television?
I think we have lost the art of listening. Our lives are full and we are so busy that multi-tasking is almost second nature to us, but at what cost? Do we take that time while someone else is holding the conversation to think about all the items that still remain on our "To Do List"? How sad is that!?
How can we regain our listening skills? Simple. Open your mind and engage in the conversation. Repeat what the person is saying with some insight of your own. Empathize with the speaker as a caring person should. Do not recount a story of your own that in your mind is similar to the speaker's - that's not listening, that's bringing things back to you. This is supposed to be about the other person and not you.
Take the time to care about someone other than yourself. It is time well spent because there will come a day when you will need to be repaid for your investment.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Chapter 35 - Do you suppose?
I have never really gotten angry with Rett. I should have been angry, and I should be angry, but it is an emotion I don't tap into often as it doesn't come naturally to me. I get hurt and sad, but rarely angry.
The day that I called Rett to tell him I was pregnant and he asked me "How do I know it is mine?" I should have been angry, but instead I went into my bedroom and sat on the floor in disbelief, started crying uncontrollably, and banged my head against the closet doors. I remember the empty feeling inside, like there was nothing there, not even hurt...just nothingness...hollow. But I wasn't angry.
I can feel anger building inside me these days. I will get a glimpse of it from time to time, but it won't stay with me, I keep trying to wash it away like a stain on my clothes, because it shouldn't be there. Or should it?
I started composing a reply to Rett's last e-mail - don't worry - I was composing it in my head.
I like how he kept putting my name at the beginning of the paragraphs, as if I wouldn't know to whom he was speaking - so I thought I would copy his style.
Here is how it would go:
___________________________________________________________
Rett, you will not enjoy this but, I have finished my journey with you. I did get the answers that I was seeking. You are still the same sociopathic "dark hearted asshole" you always were, and I did make the right decision, because you do not deserve to be the father of my child.
Good thing I never trusted you - yes I have boundaries as well. Your son will never be subjected to your cruelty and your lies - I have seen to that. So, please leave us alone to live our lives.
I told you I was a writer. Could you tell which parts of my story were fiction and which parts were non-fiction - I doubt it...because I too am good at what I do.
Rett, do you suppose Marilyn would still find you the love of her life if she knew your whole story - not the revisionist story you will tell her, but the true story with all your secrets? Do you suppose she would still be able to look at you with love in her eyes? Do you suppose she would still trust you? Do you suppose she would forgive you? Do you suppose she would still respect your integrity? Ah, but I suspect she knows ‘you’ better than I, and will soon join the elite club of Rett’s exes.
Tough questions, but I know you can handle them.
Godspeed to you, and remember to keep looking at each of those faces who are looking at you - because you will never know who might be there, looking for the good inside you.
Thank you - oh, that's right...I have nothing to thank you for, so it is just...
The End.
Annette
The day that I called Rett to tell him I was pregnant and he asked me "How do I know it is mine?" I should have been angry, but instead I went into my bedroom and sat on the floor in disbelief, started crying uncontrollably, and banged my head against the closet doors. I remember the empty feeling inside, like there was nothing there, not even hurt...just nothingness...hollow. But I wasn't angry.
I can feel anger building inside me these days. I will get a glimpse of it from time to time, but it won't stay with me, I keep trying to wash it away like a stain on my clothes, because it shouldn't be there. Or should it?
I started composing a reply to Rett's last e-mail - don't worry - I was composing it in my head.
I like how he kept putting my name at the beginning of the paragraphs, as if I wouldn't know to whom he was speaking - so I thought I would copy his style.
Here is how it would go:
___________________________________________________________
Rett, you will not enjoy this but, I have finished my journey with you. I did get the answers that I was seeking. You are still the same sociopathic "dark hearted asshole" you always were, and I did make the right decision, because you do not deserve to be the father of my child.
Good thing I never trusted you - yes I have boundaries as well. Your son will never be subjected to your cruelty and your lies - I have seen to that. So, please leave us alone to live our lives.
I told you I was a writer. Could you tell which parts of my story were fiction and which parts were non-fiction - I doubt it...because I too am good at what I do.
Rett, do you suppose Marilyn would still find you the love of her life if she knew your whole story - not the revisionist story you will tell her, but the true story with all your secrets? Do you suppose she would still be able to look at you with love in her eyes? Do you suppose she would still trust you? Do you suppose she would forgive you? Do you suppose she would still respect your integrity? Ah, but I suspect she knows ‘you’ better than I, and will soon join the elite club of Rett’s exes.
Tough questions, but I know you can handle them.
Godspeed to you, and remember to keep looking at each of those faces who are looking at you - because you will never know who might be there, looking for the good inside you.
Thank you - oh, that's right...I have nothing to thank you for, so it is just...
The End.
Annette
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