I figured I would start writing to you again to curb my wanting to talk to you. You relapsed less than a week ago. It's going on the two year mark and we're going through the same shit.
Five days ago, I found out I was pregnant. You're in the midst of begging and pleading with me to be a family and to trust and forgive you. Essentially, you're still being selfish and not letting me heal. All you care about is what you want and need.
I think you're sober but you're struggling with your reactions and aggression. You're still subtly disrespecting me.
I'm terrified of this pregnancy. It's been decided I'm going to be a single mom of three, not by me actually deciding but by your actions in the last two years. I have two appointments scheduled next week; a confirmation and a consultation at planned parenthood to look at my options. Health wise, it could be really bad since the placental abruption and my body may decide to not even carry this baby. Regardless, I want nothing to do with you.
You look like shit. You don't know what it means to be an adult or what responsibility comes with being a parent. You think all parenting is, is loving a child.
I think the drugs are going to leave you a little messed up and paranoid whether you're sober or not. Truthfully, when the anger diminishes, I'm sad for you. I want to convince myself you deserve it, and you do, but that's not my call and not who I am. I think it will be punishment enough for you to lose us forever.
I wish I could stop daydreaming about the false image of the man I thought you were and could be. I've come to terms with the complete loss of him, but the image has yet to fade. He never existed, or maybe he does, just within someone else. However, I know for sure now that it was never you and it never was. Even when you tried your hardest, I didn't like who you were. I couldn't mesh with it and that doesn't make us bad people, just two people who had purpose to create life and a beautiful boy.
Without you, I wouldn't have heard the message I was supposed to receive any louder; to fix my trauma, to break my cycle and raise beautiful, confident, purposeful children who won't have trauma to work through. Children who can grow up to have healthy relationships and build families that in time, won't be broken.
If my whole life is a sacrifice, to put the work in for their future and happiness, I'm okay with that. I would not be putting this much work in or have made so many realizations without experiencing both good and bad memories with you. All things have purpose in their timing as much as I still wish I would have never met you at all, and let you damage me the way I let you. I'll forgive myself for the tolerance at some point.
I really fucking loved you. I'm still grieving the loss of you. There is no going back or fixing anything. I'll probably cry every time I hear music by Tash. Certain things will always stir my soul. I truly believed that you think you loved me, but you didn't. What you loved most was an idea of a stable family, someone to forgive your evil and pull out your hidden good, the idea of an unbroken home, the opposite of your whole life. You knew I was vulnerable but also strong enough to carry all of your broken pieces no matter the fact that by carrying them, I was allowing them to pierce into me. You're going to tell me I'm wrong until your last breath, but due to the depth of your damage, I will die with these beliefs. Luckily for you, in a little bit of time and silence, you'll understand how unpure you're love for me was, and the pain won't be so bad.