An Ending

For years, I believed that you did things because it was all you knew. I thought you showed me how much you cared when you sent me food, cat toys, clothes, books, blankets weighted specifically to help with me with my autistic anxiety attacks, because you didn’t know any other way to show me – and I excused that because of how far away from each other we were… Even stranger, in the beginning when I kept telling you not to do these things, because I felt I would owe you something in return (because everyone always wants something in return for their charity), and because I felt that anyone who buys me things was attempting to buy my love (because it’s happened so many times before) – you told me not to worry about it. None of that was true about US. WE were DIFFERENT.

When my illness became so bad I couldn’t communicate anymore, you waited for me to answer your texts – even when it took months, even when my answers simply never came. Of course, you took me to task for my negligence of you, but you were always been the first to admit you are needy and greedy – and I always assured you that wasn’t the case. I agreed that I was the negligent one.

When I was so sick, I simply wanted to die, and you would tell me I wasn’t allowed to die until you were ready to go, yourself, I told myself that you were being loving… the truth is, telling someone they can only die on your schedule is cruel, and grasping. It is not caring when they’re experiencing what I went through. It’s just more emotional torture added to the experience.

In exchange for all of this perceived care, you received from me acceptance, and excuses for all that you were. I accepted the things in your life, and the things about yourself, that were out of your control, beyond your power to change. I accepted those things about you over which you DID have control, and yet still would not change. I occasionally discussed with you what I thought about how your choices, and lack of choices, were affecting your health – spiritually, physically, and mentally… but I never thought of it as judgment, or a request for you to change… I accepted you, wholly. You were who you were, and that was more than ok… it was wonderful.

While you were going through your separation and eventual divorce, I dealt with your constant  criticism of my relationship with my husband, and your frequent oblique references to your ex, as if my husband was cut from the same cloth. I always told myself that your negativity towards R was because you were so hurt… I realize now that there were other issues you had with my happy relationship – one was jealousy… our relationship is significantly healthier than yours was, and I am happy with my husband. The other issue was one of ownership. Every time I mentioned a problem I had, your immediate response was to tell me to run to you, come live with you and be your only person… you never included my husband in your offers unless I brought him up. In your mind, I belong to you, and with you, and shouldn’t be happy anywhere else, with anyone else. When I look back on conversations where you talked about my husband, I feel very manipulated, emotionally. That is not something a friend would do. 

When you expressed an interest in my husband, I was open about it. I know what happens around you when you want things and have to be sneaky, and that is not what I wanted for any of us. When, to protect myself and my relationship with my husband, I laid your desires on the table, you were angry. Part of it is that you enjoy sneaky theft, but a larger part of it was your deep, abiding fear of rejection. Seduction works for you. Bluntness leaves you too open, too revealed. It terrifies you. 

Of course, you and your therapist decided I was a raping raper who pushed you towards things you swore afterwards that you didn’t ever say you wanted. You looked good from that angle… and I took the fall like a good dog. 

When I agreed to take a stronger roll in my own life and power, and in yours, I asked for one thing from both you and the Universe. I asked that I no longer carry the blame for those things that are beyond my control… and you failed to keep your oath.

I experienced something I did not understand, and I came to you for help. You laughed at me, and then you told me that what I’d done (even though it was something beyond my control) was stupid, and that it was going to cause you harm, and that maybe next time I found myself in such a predicament, I should take a moment to think about the larger picture, and all the facts, before I do something like that again.

In other words… you blamed me, and you chastised me. 

You seem to think you gave me information I was unhappy to learn. I was glad to learn what my power had done. I was happy to understand. What pissed me off was your attack of things I had no control over, your blame of me. It’s like yelling at cats for having hairballs or shedding. They have fur – to expect them not to have trouble with their fur from time to time is irrational, and to hold them accountable for their troubles is unreasonable and cruel. 

When I found myself in a situation where I was doing things, but didn’t know what was happening, or even WHY, and I came to you for help – you lorded your superiority over me, and told me, once again, that I think I’m just SO smart that I can do anything I want, because I’ll always find a way out of it. Except that you know that’s not true, and that’s not how I think. This is not the first time we’ve had this EXACT discussion… or even the 90th.

The truth is there are moments in my life where I am fully aware of everything going on around me, yet I am not the one in the driver seat… It appears to everyone else that I am in complete control of what is happening, and yet THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY ME. I move, speak, change the world, and everyone sees my face, my mind, my hands; everyone hears my voice. It’s still not me. I do agree that I’m fully conscious in those moments, where time and the multiverse seem to take a breath, before a sudden wave of power and will changes everything completely… and the epicenter is absolutely me, but I am still not the architect – and saying that I am is like saying I’m to blame for the sun rising.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I say this to you – you refuse to understand it. No matter how many times I tell you, “I wasn’t thinking anything at all – there wasn’t an opportunity for me to think, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t do this,’ or ‘Wow, the ramifications of this action make it inadvisable…'” – you STILL insist that because I was there, and the action happened through me, that somehow I could have stopped it, could have changed it… and that next time this happens, I should take control and make it NOT happen.

All this, while also telling me that one of my biggest issues is that I try to control everything (though of course anyone who consistently has their life turned upside down by a puppet master universe would OF COURSE have control issues) and that I should stop “insisting that the system behave the way I want it to,” WHILE you’re simultaneously telling me I should have more control over myself.

The final straw, I think, was that when I asked, you, no… BEGGED YOU to PLEASE attempt to see what was happening to me from my perspective so that you would understand why blaming me for this type of shit is so hurtful, ESPECIALLY COMING FROM SOMEONE LIKE YOU WHO HAS BEEN THERE, TOO… 

When I said to you that you do not seem to understand when I tell you with words, or when I write it down, or when you see it happen to me, but that you seem to ONLY learn by doing, so would you please ALLOW a flow of information to SHOW YOU, BY YOU DOING IT YOURSELF, and you told me I was asking you to be raped – more than that, you told the world that I WANTED you to be raped, that I insisted on it… despite the fact that both of us have been in situations where we were not in control of what happened to our bodies, and neither of us would EVER wish that on ANYONE, EVER… that accusation was just it for me. 

The moment you said that you were not interested in experiencing my world for yourself, I said, OK. I stopped asking you for what I needed, and tried, ONCE AGAIN, to explain IN WORDS what I go through, and you called it a lecture, and then you threatened me – and then you followed that with some incredibly passive-aggressive bullshit.

That was the moment I realized how toxic you are.

I find it interesting that when I won’t do my job, I’m a horrible person, and when I do my job, I’m to blame for the things that happen through me. You call what I asked you to try and experience “Rape.” This essentially means, when you asked me to take back my power, you were asking me to accept rape… and now you’re blaming me for the results… and telling me I’m a rapist because I asked you to attempt to view things from my perspective. What I hear you saying is that it’s ok for me to be raped, and for you to blame me, but it’s not ok for you to emotionally, spiritually, or mentally support me while I endure what you have asked me to endure.

All the gifts in the world don’t make up for you calling me a rapist because I asked you for understanding – asked you for something EVERYONE NEEDS. All the food in the world would not make up for you being ok with me experiencing what you consider to be rape, and also being ok with blaming me for the results. All the pretty dresses, all the plush toys, all the blankets in the world, don’t make up for you greedily telling me that I don’t get to die on my own schedule, but yours. All the visits to organize my medical care, all the offers to pay for various therapies, don’t make up for you lying to me about so many things, and then blaming me for not knowing anything. 22 years of friendship doesn’t make up for you continuing to blame me for shit I cannot help, while doing your damnedest to remain as pure as the driven snow.

That’s about as pure as the shoveled shit. You have betrayed me, abandoned me – every time I have become homeless it has been because of you and your choices. Every time I’ve moved across country, except for the very last, it has been to suit your desires – to either have me, or to throw me away because you found something better for a little while – and the one time I have moved by choice, and for my own reasons – the one time I’ve managed to maintain a stable life for an extended period – when you finally realized what you had chosen over me wasn’t going to work for you anymore, you began trying to emotionally blackmail me into changing my decision.

Do not reply to this post. Do not call me. Do not email me. Do not send me another single thing in an attempt to make yourself feel less guilty for who and what you are, and all the betrayals you have heaped on me over the years. I do not want you – in my life, in my power, in my future – we are not family, we are not friends… and I don’t care enough to even want to be enemies – because you’re not even worth THAT kind of energy.

I have forgiven you, accepted you, loved you… and you have lied to me, accused me, blamed me, betrayed me… and all of this, for the last time. I’m done with you.

 I’ve blocked your phone number and your emails. We’re done. I got help and removed my power from your family line, untwisted our fate, and separated our godhead. We are now two, on two separate paths. I have paid you what I owe, and washed my hands of all of it. 

Thank the gods we’re over. That was the silliest 20,000 years of my life. 

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