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I am not the woman I want to be. I am not the woman I have led everyone to believe I am. I am not the daughter, the sister, the friend, the co-worker, the Christian that I have led you all to believe. And for this I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for letting you trust me. I am sorry for not practicing what I preach. I have let myself believe that reading books and knowing a lot makes me a good Christian. I can hold my own in a theological discussion, so I must be a good Christian, right? Wrong. I give money to charities and homeless people and I hold the door open and I smile at people, so I must be a good person, right? Wrong. All of this is a facade to hide my true nature. I want to be the person I have portrayed but I am so far from being that person, I am not certain I can ever become her. Knowing a lot means nothing if you don’t put it into practice. I am sorry for my dishonesty. I am sorry for my hypocrisy. I am sorry for every word and deed that has hurt someone, whether they knew it or not. I am seeking counseling. I need help and I know this. Of all the people I have deceived, the person I have lied to the most is myself. Whether or not I was manipulated, whether or not I was taken advantage of, whether or not I was naive, I still knew the difference between right and wrong and I made choices. Choices that have hurt countless people. Choices that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. The only thing I can do is apologize, repent, and move on, learning from my mistakes. I need to figure out where I went wrong and how I could have let myself wander so far from what I know to be True. Please pray for me. I am lost and I know it.
You were never there. Oh, you were when Mom made you be. But I could always tell you didn’t want to be. I could sense your reluctance. At all of my plays and recitals and musicals and piano performances. You said you were proud of me and you probably were. But I knew you’d rather be in front of the tv. I was less important than Star Trek re-runs. Do you know how that made me feel? How it still makes me feel? There is a reason I don’t bother inviting you to my dances anymore.
I hated it when Mom made you go on trips with us. You always stressed us all out. Trying to beat traffic and failing and then getting upset about it. Yelling at other drivers. Getting frustrated with us kids. I was glad when Mom finally gave up and just took us herself. Even going to China was more fun. But you missed out on the experience of seeing where your other daughter came from. Getting to meet her with the rest of us. Do you ever regret that?
I don’t believe anything you tell me anymore. Every promise sounds empty. Every attempt to be a father feels forced. Did you even want kids? You are one of the reasons I don’t want children. I never want to make someone I created and brought into the world feel like I resent them. Like I would be happier if they weren’t around. If I didn’t have to provide for them or care about their dreams and passions. I never want to make someone wonder if I even love them. Do you love me?
I still care what you think of me, but I wish I didn’t. I still want you to be proud of me. I know that I haven’t exactly helped the rift between us. But after 24 years, I am tired of trying. I’m tired of being rejected. I’m tired of hurting because of some flippant comment about my weight or my friends or my politics. Did you know that you’re part of the reason why I avoided physical touch for so long? One morning you came out into the kitchen and in a moment of love, I went to hug you. But you immediately reprimanded me for something I had done. I chose right then not to open myself up to that again. So years later, friends had to teach me it was okay to hug people. I am still terrified of rejection though. And still find it hard to be physically affectionate sometimes.
I run from any man who reminds me of you. I refuse to even entertain the possibility that I could end up with someone like you. I don’t want to be married because he could turn into you. And I don’t want to be like Mom, staying in it for the kids and being miserable. I would rather be alone than even take a chance. Would it make you sad if you knew that?
I wish I could believe your attempts now. I wish I could trust you. But 24 years is a long time. There is a lot of damage that has to be undone and I’m not sure it’s possible. So I will wait and see. Maybe, if I see the changes stick, we can build a relationship. But I’m not holding my breath.
So tomorrow in my self-defense class, we will be learning how to fight once your attacker has you on the ground. (This is assuming all of our awesome moves that we’ve learned up to now haven’t turned him into a quivering pile of lime jello.) Needless to say, I am not looking forward to this. Two weeks ago when one of the other girls and I were somewhat injured and we were talking with the instructors afterward, she was asking about what you do when you’re wrestling with your friends/boyfriend/whoever and they straddle you over your hips and pin your wrists down. One of the instructors showed her what to do and I almost had a conniption watching it.
Will it be good to know how to get out of these situations? Yes. Will it give me more confidence for the future? I certainly hope so. But for all that to take place, I have to get through tomorrow. Without panicking. Without flashbacks. Without reflexively freezing and crying and begging him to stop.
This is gonna suck.
Now that I have your attention (and all the people who were trying to google the Buffy episode), here are some conversations with living people.
Conversation #1:
Instructor: If you look people in the eye and acknowledge their presence, it shows that you are confident and not off in your own little world.
Classmate: But sometimes guys think that means you like them and then they try to ask you out.
Instructor: That’s not your problem. You were just being friendly.
Later that night, conversation #2:
Cashier: *hands me my stuff*
Me: *looks cashier in the eye, smiles* Have a good night.
Cashier: You too.
Me: *walks to the door*
Cashier: Oh, by the way…..
Me: *cringes and turns toward him, already knowing what’s coming*
Cashier: You have a beautiful smile.
Me: Thank you.
Cashier: What’s your name?
Me: *starts laughing and walks out the door*
Conversation #3:
Mikayla: Where are you going?
Me: The tanning bed.
Mikayla: Where?
Me: The tanning bed.
Mikayla: The panty bed?
Me: ………yes.
How do you explain to an 8-year-old who was born with gorgeous dark skin that us white girls have to soak up the sun in odd ways sometimes? In my case, anytime I’m in a wedding. (So every 2 years. 
)
Conversation #4:
*Mom and I are reading an article on insomnia in the waiting room at my back doctor appointment*
Mom: It says to put a towel over your clock or to turn it so you can’t see the numbers.
Me: But then I can’t see what time it is.
Mom: I think that’s the point. They say seeing the time increases your stress and makes it harder to fall asleep.
Me: No, because then I’m laying there wondering what time it is because I know I’m supposed to be asleep. Let’s see what else it says. Oh, exercise between 5 and 7 at night.
Mom: But that’s when I’m tired.
Me: Next.
Mom: Don’t drink de-caf. Well, I don’t. Next.
Me: I don’t think they have anything useful in here.
Mom: And I think we’re starting to annoy the other patients.
Me: Maybe we should just take a nap.
Mom: Good idea.
I forgot to put the quote for the day in my Daily How To so you get two quotes.
Dancers are the only athletes who aren’t allowed to show how much it hurts. – Unknown
I believe in the sun even when it isn’t shining. I believe in love even when I am alone. I believe in God even when He is silent. – Graffiti found in 1945 on the wall of a basement in Koln, Germany, where a Jewish believer is thought to have been hiding from the Gestapo.
