It's the Unknown That Scares Us

A little over a year ago I began a quest to bring peace in my family and extended members of that family. My quest failed. Epically. It was predictable and it was predicted, however, me being as stubborn as always; I wanted to see the good in her. I wanted to see that she was different than I remembered her from our youth. Truly, the only things that have changed are the targets of her narcissistic entitlement, and the manner in which she goes about manipulating people. She's a bit slower these days. Her age and distractions are showing.

It takes her a little longer to figure out how she wants to go about making someone comfortable enough to bare their most vulnerable points (for easier knife insertion). She has to expose more of herself in order to achieve her ends. I noticed. She didn’t think I was paying attention but as I was simply in it to be her friend, nothing more, no ulterior motives, no malice aforethought, I really had nothing to hide anyway. She does. Oh, she has secrets still to this day; a secret urge and longing to be free of entrapments of relationships, and a desire to be independently wealthy so she can explore all the things that life has to offer on her terms and not be at the bidding of a tired old man who was just looking for someone with whom to while away his last decade or so.

Of course I noticed everything because that’s what I do. I shared my life and my home with her. I shared a family vacation with her. My husband and I made a very comfortable room for us in our home so that she might visit anytime she likes and stay for free in the area in order to better see her family who lives here. Yes, I opened my life and was honest and genuine about all of it.

I even took notice that she is grieving the mistakes she made as a mother. Naturally, most of us do that, even the best of mothers, but she knows what she did was horribly devastating to the fruits of her womb. She knows, I don’t have to remind her. She’s created monsters with whom she graced the DNA of her sociopathic heritage. They have to live their entire lives sorting through one pill or another, one therapist or another, or continue to self-medicate and blame everyone else; as has been her mantra. It’s always someone else’s fault.

For clarity, I didn’t write this blog to lambaste her. I just wrote it as an end to a chapter that needed to have been ended a long time ago. The question has been answered.

Why couldn’t we have been friends all those years ago instead of enemies?

Well, it’s because you have a sickness, my dear. You are unwilling to accept real love – or give it. You are psychologically incapable of allowing yourself to be loved by someone because you always see it as fake or a means to an end, and eventually the other shoe will drop and you will be left holding your heart. It stems from childhood trauma, I get that, but honey we’ve all suffered childhood trauma. I’ve explained mine. You know mine. Sharing it wasn’t a way to be simpatico with you; I was just letting you know who I am as a person so you might understand that I am not out to hurt you; I never was.

I won’t explain that further. You already know my position on all of this. I have been truthful with you, as I promised I would, until you gave me a reason to believe you no longer wanted me in your life. You did that by unfriending me on social media because of something you were doing that was faithless, soulless, and definitely befitting of the description I gave you when we were young. You were manipulating someone in your life at my expense. You were the one at the end of those text messages; he doesn’t use that kind of vernacular. You were the one who was coaxing him to be cruel and heartless; as if he needed any help in that department. Yes, you gave me a reason to walk away from you. I do not stay where I am not wanted.

Understand, that does not mean I return to your enemy status. No, I pinky swore that I would never return to that. You may be mine, but I am certainly not yours. I mean you no harm and I wish you no ill will, but I also no longer have your back. I will not support someone who chronically flips the script and tears me down. I will not hold myself to standards that I expect from no other person on Earth. You made your choice and as I’m certain you’ve come to realize, so have I.

From this point forward, you and your decision to use a simple, wealthy, old man who you hoped had one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel are on your own. If you find someone with whom to have the affair you wanted so badly from my best friend, I hope that person is someone nobody knows. Surely you aren’t that stupid. You thought I didn’t know? Yes, he told me when it happened, but I did not tell. I’m not telling now. You bragged in SnapChat that you didn’t "call me out" on knowledge you had that I had not shared with you, and you thought it was punishing me? Oh, darling, I have volumes of information stored in my head that you shared with me – and I shall take them to my grave. It’s beneath me to act the way you have towards me. I said I’m your friend and as I asserted before, you do not have any of those. The people you know think you are a saint. The people you know through work and your husband only see a part of you, the part that you allow them to see. Your mask came off with me because I’ve seen you for who and what you are; I know your secrets and I know your private thoughts. I still did not judge you – but you judged me.

You judged me for what you did. You judged me to be a monster so you didn’t have to take accountability for the fact that you slept with my husband and gloated about it; not the other way around. You destroyed my marriage back then and (albeit temporarily) my life; not the other way around. You bombarded my life with your biliousness and you spoke of me as if you had intimate knowledge of me, when you knew nothing of who I really am, until I let you know. Until this last year.

But all that is in the past, and I bury it along with you. I can say goodbye to anyone in less than the time it takes to write this; and I will not think of you as my friend again (after I get this damnable tattoo covered) for the rest of my life, but I feel certain you will think of me regularly until the day you leave that body and move on to your next existence. I’m sure I’ll meet you there as I met you in the last one. Don’t be surprised when I turn my face and walk away next time.