After waking this morning I decided that I was going to “start my morning off right” by making myself a cup of coffee and getting some fresh air. They say that spending time outside is good for your mental health. Although I’d consider myself to have woken up in a good mood, more serotonin can’t hurt, right? Upon taking a few sips of my coffee and turning on a song I haven’t heard in a while, my mind couldn’t help but to remind me of a call I had with you just a few days prior. Just another instance of you acknowledging me and forgetting it ever happened. I reminded you of an email I sent you months ago that you acknowledged. You spoke to me like I never even drafted it. I can’t help but become frustrated with you- something so small but so infuriating. Because it wasn’t just an email. It was the way you left with no explanation (still, to this day) and thought we would forget. It was the way you gave me a photograph of the two of us for my 14th birthday, the prime years of your guilt, with script that you would always be there. Mid-afternoon or midnight, you would pick up my call. But every time I call now, the only voice I hear is the automated woman at the conclusion of several rings. Must not be important, you’re on a permanent vacation. An email- something so silly. Having your number still feels silly too. I couldn’t help but think- what if, in five years time, your brain forces you to forget for real? No more superficial suppression, but genuine loss of memory just like your father? To see the way that broke you, but you had the privilege of your dad going to the grave loyal to you. Mine won’t. My father will have left me twice. Actually, three times.
I never would’ve thought that you forgetting would’ve had the effect it has on me now. It comes up in ways I would’ve never imagined. When I speak to people, they ask me where my parents live. Parents, with an s. As if you never left. I can’t shame them for assuming, though. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. When I begin to get to know someone I like, I immediately want to leave before they hurt me like you did. And if I force myself not to self-sabotage, my mind fights me. It tells me that they are ill-intentioned or don’t actually like me. How could any man when the first man I ever loved treated me as though I wasn’t interesting enough, not worth his time or his energy? If there’s anything you did right for me, you made me completely independent. You showed me that it was the only way I was going to survive. But I am so shut out. Like you did to me. I will never forget. It weighs on my mind the older I get. An email- so silly. I hope the weather is nice in paradise, though. I would hope at least that much for your happiness. Wasn’t that what it was all about, anyway?
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” ~ Deuteronomy 31:6
Tea Time with Caroline 