As with my other entries, this is an open letter, and is an expression of feelings I can not relay in any other way.
My Dearest Michelle,
Your words continue to hurt me. The meaning behind your status is pretty clear. I know that you want to justify your actions, but we both know that I never wished you ill, nor did I ever abuse you. It is true that there were times that I became a bit hot headed after we first moved to Virginia. What I don’t think you understand, or refuse to accept, is that any words or frustration I evidenced was in direct proportion to how much you mean to my life. I was giving everything I had, monetarily, physically, emotionally, to you, and because I had always been honest in how I felt, in how important you are to me, about how much I valued you, and yet I got so little cooperation when something needed to be done. If I hadn’t had my accident, nothing would have phased me, but I was in much more pain back then, and it was difficult to deal with both the pain and the task of having to do all I had to do to keep you happy. All I wanted was some effort and help in getting things done.
I’ll never understand all this anger you evidence towards me. You paint me to be an angry person, lie to people about how you were treated, and seem to be convinced that you were treated worse than you actually were. The greatest source of my frustration, the only source of any real sadness I felt in the last six years, were the direct result of your cheating and lying. I never hit you, or threatened you. I never even criticized you, except when I was in pain and asking for help but getting nothing but excuses. It was incredibly frustrating, considering the great amount of effort and sacrifice I made in the name of love, effort that never even seemed to be appreciated. You told me you didn’t want to be taken for granted, yet you took me for granted often during our time together. All I wanted was to have you recognize how I felt, and to help me on those occasions when I really needed it. You blame me for being saddened and frustrated and depressed because my wife was running around? We both know I would forgive you, but as soon as I began trusting you again, you would hurt me again. My pain wasn’t my fault. It was yours. I was always there for you, but you were only there for me reluctantly, with complaints and criticism, when I consistently proved to you just how hard I was willing to work to make you happy. Despite all the times I forgave you, you have never forgiven me for even expressing frustration. I know I can look much fiercer than I am when I’m upset, but I’ve never even tried to hurt you; I’ve only expressed the pain and frustration I was made to feel. Yet you want everyone, me included, to believe I treated you like I was some monster, when the truth is just the opposite.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I love you. I have always loved you. The last thing I wanted in my life (and I went so far as to turn down your initial advances for fear of it coming into my life) was to lose you, or have the kind of trouble in my life that I have now. I went as far as I needed to go whenever you needed anything done, and it made me happy to do so. It is easy to see that once you made your mind up to cheat on me, there was no turning back – you continued to do it regardless of whether we were having good times or bad. In fact, whenever things got running well, and we started making progress toward a better life, I would discover things were not as they appeared. This would crush me yet again, and then I would be blamed for being ‘negative’.
I was always, and still am, honest with you. Both Kali and I told you the truth: I am a passionate man, and though I can get loud and grumpy, it was all show – it was that passion coming through -for how could I feel any less intensely about a woman I thought was sent to me by the Universe itself? Yes, that passion may have been somewhat frightening when I was upset, but it was equally intense, if not more so, when I was happy. All it would take to keep me happy, was not to cheat, and maybe help me every once in awhile when I had worked hard while in pain. It was that passion, the good, loving passion, that gave you all those orgasms, that drove me to sit for fourteen plus hours straight just to see you, or to work standing up for twelve hours straight through blinding pain. Think of how you felt when you had your ablation…that night you were curled on our bed. That was what it was like for me, but I went through it, and would continue to do so, because you were worth it. Yet spending an hour to bring me something at work was too much trouble (unless you needed gas money, like on the very day you left).
I was given so many reasons to leave, or have you leave, over and over again, yet I stayed with you. That you get pissed at a quality you used to praise me for shows me that whatever you feel against me runs deep, and is disproportionate to whatever happened. Okay, there were times I was an ass. I always admitted it, felt like shit about it, and tried my best not to let it happen again. Yes, I did get better about it, a steady improvement as I worked harder to keep limber and felt less pain. The last several years, especially after Savannah was born, it was a rare occurrence, and yes, sometimes my show was meant to be overly dramatic at the end to signal the end of my resistance and frustration, and even then I’d be given the extra lesson of how foolish it was – and through it all, all my hopes and dreams, all my satisfaction in life, had become tied to the strength of my love for you and Savannah. I loved you in spite of your imperfections, and I actively work on any and all shortcomings I encounter in my journey through life. I wish you gave me credit for that. I would wonder why you could not forgive me as I forgave you (and for bigger offenses, as cheating and lying are much more grave than any hastily said words fueled by frustration), but we already know the answer: it’s not about forgiveness. We both know what it is about, and to suggest otherwise is as insulting as it is incorrect.
Sadly, I have come to see that you are determined to hurt me for no other reason than to justify your guilt and shame, to deflect from what you have done to both your husband and your daughter. It is a shame, and it breaks my heart. I imagine now that hearing that brings you satisfaction, and that saddens me beyond words. No one who cares as much as I do, who works and sacrifices to maintain their family should have to go through this. Neither should any child. We both know this. You can attempt to delay the truth, or to bury it, but the truth stands, and it will all come to light in time. This is the nature of existence. If you didn’t want this kind of grief, or to cause it in others, all it takes is NOT doing something, but you did knowing full well the consequences, which, had it had been done to anyone else, would have had a much different outcome. The fact that you were allowed to put your plan into motion at all is only because at heart I am too forgiving. The majority of men out there today, including your current pathetic boy-toy, are not. Most would have reacted with REAL anger, not despair or heartbreak.
But whatever. Continue to try and hurt me if you like. Neither Savannah nor I have done anything to deserve this, and maybe one day, you’ll realize the extent of the pain you have caused, not only to me, but to your daughter as well.
Maybe, one day, you’ll actually care about someone other than yourself (real caring, not the ‘oh, you’re interesting to me right now so I’ll fuck you and fawn over you’ type of caring you’ve shown over the last eight years). I’ll just be here, loving the woman I used to know, and wondering what happened to her. She was awesome, and I’ll continue to love that woman until I pass from the Earth.
Despite it all, I am still