Monday, May 23, 2016

Motivation Kickstarter Day 22: What I Want to Say to 5 People

As part of my quest to find my motivation, I've accepted the 30 Day Writing Challenge.  Each post will be added to the main post HERE.

What I Want to Say to Five People

I have made it a point to be unfailingly honest in my life, which includes in this blog.  That sometimes means getting very uncomfortable and, perhaps, making others feel the same.  Today's post will do both.  

1. My Nephew B
You are, have always been, one of the most incredible, brilliant, loving people I've ever had the honor of knowing.  I wish you could see you as I see you.  I wish those on the outskirts of your world could see you as I see you.   I know you're loved by many, but I don't always believe you're appreciated for the unique you that you are and for that I am sorry.  I wish I could help you understand why some ride you harder than you deserve and than they do your brothers.  I wish I could stop that for you.  I love you more than you could ever know, have loved you I first held you in my arms just moments after you took your first breath.  More than that, though, I both like and respect you.  If you weren't my nephew, I'd choose you as my friend.  You always have a soft place to land with me.  

2. Paul Ring
That you were young is not an excuse.  I was younger.  That it was almost 30 years ago now does not dampen what you did.  That you likely don't even remember it does not mean I don't.  If there were no statute of limitations on sexual assault, I would press charges even now.  You hurt me, you changed my life.  Should we ever meet again in life, I will not hesitate to throw the first punch I've ever thrown and, hopefully, land it straight in your throat.  I will remind you.  If I ever get the chance, I will ensure you live the rest of your life with the memory of what you did to me when I was just a little girl.

3. Alice Lee
I threatened you and you took those feelings out on me publicly, loudly, wrongly, and meanly.  I was a good student teacher.  I consistently got the highest reviews in my graduating class.  I was hired to teach honors classes the next year before I even finished student teaching.  I was good.  And yes, as I got better, I began to pull away from you, I began to see how little respect you had for the students, I began to understand all the ways I wanted to be different than you.  I relied on you less and less, I came into my own, I simply outgrew you.  You had no right to dress me down, attack me with lies and false assumptions, yell at me for a full 15 minutes in front of another teacher and student.  You didn't like that I no longer put you on a pedestal and you needed to put me back in the lower position the ugliest way you knew how.  I don't forgive you.  You are despicable.  

4. Dad
You abandoned us.  You used to see us twice a week, you used to send us letters telling us how proud you are of us, you used to be present in our lives until you found a new family.  You abandoned us.  You even stopped acknowledging us.  You stopped celebrating our birthdays, even calling us on holidays.  You stopped the letters, the visits, the relationships.  You moved 800 miles away, started your new family, and told everyone you had three kids instead of five.  Mom made things difficult on you, this I know.  Believe me, she made it difficult on me, too.  But we were there, living with the difficulties, while you decided we weren't worth the effort.  You somehow justified abandoning us for the sake of getting away from her.  You've expressed no remorse about this, only continued to justify it when asked even all these years later.  You abandoned us and it has colored everything we are and have done for the rest of our lives in small and large ways.  That you've never once apologized or, for that matter, been anything but proud of your decision to move on will be your legacy.  

5. Aunt L
I will not again listen to you defend my dad.  I will not ever again let you shut me down when I express hurt over our abandonment.  I will not ever again let you get away with telling me the same thing my dad always has: it's OK that he left, because my mom made things hard for him.  From now on, I will talk back.  The next time you do this, I will ask pointedly if you'd ever give up your children because it got hard to see them.  The next time you try this, I will point out that the difficulty that simply is my mother is even more of a reason why he should've stayed near and present, so that we could have a more stable influence somewhere in our lives.  The next time, I will say that this paltry, pathetic excuse no longer works on me, because I am a parent now and understand exactly what you would do for your child no matter how hard things get.  Never would I abandon my son.  Never would you abandon your children.  There is not a single excuse that justifies him leaving us and the next time you give one in that snotty tone, I'm going to respond accordingly.

Uncomfortable yet?  I am.  That's how I know it should be written, probably should've been written long ago.  

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