Yeah, you know who you are. How could you not? You avoid me at all costs because I have become a very inconvenient part of your history. And I will admit that in the months that have followed the end of our strange union, I have also done my best to avoid running into you, steering clear of certain streets where you may be lurking and startling when someone resembling you comes into my field of vision. On the rare occasions when our paths have crossed, all the blood in my body has rushed to my head as I march straight ahead, hoping that you’ll notice how different I am from when you knew me, how much stronger and wiser I have become. I have wondered what you think of me still, how you place me in the story of your life. Before I can stop them, sound bites of your voice float into my head, the meanness and callousness that rolled off your tongue so easily. The way you always used my words against me. Your angry pride, the way you wore it on you like cologne, washes back over me, a visceral memory of the desperation, the rage, the guilt, the shame, and the euphoria you provoked in me.
You kept me a secret, which has made me afraid of what others would think of me if they were to find out. You have done everything you possibly could to erase me from your life, to pretend like I never existed, because I never really mattered to you in the first place. We’ve been finished for long enough for me to be able to bask in the joy of being free of you, to crack jokes with friends and laugh at my mistakes, for days to go by without you ever popping up in my thoughts. But to truly be free of your power over me, I must stop letting your rules define how I think about our relationship. Without fully realizing it, I have been holding all the mistakes I made, all the signs I chose to ignore, against myself. How could I have fallen for an asshole like you?! I have beaten myself up over this question and the position you put me in, because I am a sensitive and empathetic human being, and I care about how my actions affect other people. But I’ve been judging myself as though I were the only factor in the equation, as though you didn’t make choices, too. I have taken on all the blame because you refuse to take any responsibility for your actions.
But that is not my job; my job over the past few months has been to understand myself better and what led me into your arms, to identify why I believed I deserved so little. And I have done that – in therapy, through self-reflection, and in having tough conversations about love, loss and pain with people I trust. I understand who I was when I met you – how I thought you would help heal the wounds of the past, how it felt good to feel wanted. And then how I wanted my care to make you better. I understand that the moments when I saw so much good in you were a reflection of what I wanted for you, but that for you, goodness runs shallow because you yourself do not understand what it is. And I think I am starting to understand that what makes it possible to move on from experiences like this is by appreciating what I have gained from knowing that kind of pain. First you have to get through the pain itself, learning to tend to your heart and then working through it so you can claim it as your own. Sometimes it still hurts to remember. But I’ve realized this is because I hurt for that young woman that I was – desperately looking for a soft place to land and feeling every cold stare, cutting remark, or blasé dismissal as a personal failure – and not because I am still hurt or damaged by the things you said and did. And if I can hurt for that woman, I can also celebrate for her, for the long path she’s traveled and the things she gained along the way. I have grown so much since then and I am so far beyond your reach of influence. I have healed, and though right now you seem like a pretty lost cause, I hope that one day you might heal, too.
So I have done the hard work. I have taken responsibility for my actions, dealing with the consequences of my decisions. I no longer need to spend an ounce of my energy feeling bad for the choices I made. You will continue to try and erase me from your existence, a little side note in your journey, a headache you’d like to forget. And that’s ok – I can’t control what you think of me. But you were never a sidebar in my life, no secret of mine. Because the truth is that you have been an important part of my journey to becoming who I am today. Without knowing you, I might still be that woman seeking validation from others, living life based on what others want me to be and limiting my choices out of fear of what people will think of me. You have taught me how much I am worth, giving me a deeper respect for my thoughts, feelings, and opinions. I can now better recognize what true kindness looks like, how unselfish love should be. I am sorry you do not know what love is, but I’m not sorry I had to learn what it is not from you. So thank you, dear Asshole, for being such an asshole. I regret nothing and I am not ashamed.
F*#% You Very Much,
Not Your Dirty Little Secret