Putting It in Writing

A while back, I considered doing a little healing exercise. I wanted to write letters to all the people who have caused me pain. A kind of cleansing for my mind. At any given time I can find myself reliving a traumatic experience. I think its partly because, either I have internalized the magnitude of emotion that is the result of my pain, or I have voiced said pain to the person who has caused it and they have refused to take ownership of their part and/or fully comprehend the affects of their actions.

Last week, I was having one of those days, and I just had to write. I didn't blog it, or take pen to paper, but rather crafted what I was feeling into an informal typed letter. To Emma's dad. I started at the very beginning. From when we first met, and carried the letter throughout the progression of our "relationship", up until the time of my [last] rape. I just put it all in words, and asked questions that I've wanted to ask. Mainly the whys. I printed the letter, folded it, and tucked it away in my purse, awaiting his next sexual advance. I wanted to turn to him, letter in hand, and tell him that the answer to his advance was in the letter. When I dropped Emma off for her overnight stay, there was a missed opportunity. He did make a sexual advance, to which I brushed off instead of handing over the letter. I clammed up. I was too nervous to hand it over. I wanted to re-read it first.

It can be a scary process, especially when you decide that you want to actually deliver the letter to the person who has hurt you. After all, there is a reason that you were not able to come right out and say everything that you had to write down in the first place. It must be done though. If I continue to carry this letter around with me, its no different than what I am carrying around with me mentally. So, the next time I see him, I'll be handing over the letter. I don't know what his reaction will be. I do not expect to get the answers to the whys. However, at least he will be forced to hear me.

Parents of Convenience

If you have never taken a look at your child's father and proceeded to ask yourself what the hell you were thinking, consider yourself blessed.

Emma's dad is one of those men who should be castrated, just for the sake of population control. I guess its extremely easy to bring children into the world when you can be assured that someone else will be taking care of them. And by someone else, I mean the women from which they are bore. Looking back, I understand all of the circumstances that led us to be together. Had I been older, and wiser, I would have had the aptitude to make better decisions. Had I been an experienced dater, I would have told him to kick rocks, and then probably called the police and filed a report for harassment. His pursuit of me has always been a bit stalkerish, but then again, in what other capacity could it be when you are 24, and the person you are pursuing is 14?

I'm still a little irritated with the fact that, upon returning from an overnight visit (the first in a long while), all of Emma's possessions reek of cigarette smoke. I absolutely HATE the smell of cigarette smoke, especially when its all over everything. I've considered asking him to reconsider smoking in his house. If Emma's things are filled with heavy smoke, I don't even wanna think about what might be getting into her lungs. I just have a big ass problem with how irresponsible he is. Like, really? I try to extend a little privilege to him by allowing her to stay the night, and she returns smokey. Lets just say, she wont be staying anymore nights soon.