Sunday, May 15, 2022

Dear Mike,

Drugs and alcohol.  It's form of suicide.  I'm on a slow suicide mission.  

I feel listless.

I wish I was more.

Remember when I told you that I had never been born.  If I blink my eyes and make it so, then I would. 

The cashier at Sav A Lot came upon a victim of a  motorcycle crash not two hours ago.  The guy was more on the gone side rather than the here side.  His body lay motionless in the street as the police pulled up.

It brought back memories of her daughter dying.  

Jun rang out my order.  Her eyes were swollen.  Her demeanor was forlorn.  I asked her what happened.

She was inaudible as she tried to explain.

Her daughter was five.  She was in the ambulance as they tried to resuscitate her.  It didn't work.

Two weeks after that her father died.

I told her what anybody would want to hear.  I gave her strength to pull herself together, get perspective and continue with fortitude.  That, is my supper, to leave things better.

I didn't speak my truth.  

I spoke her truth.  My truth is cold as ice.  Stoics steel themselves against death everyday with every breath.  

I shared with Patrick some of my truth today.

It's like stabbing an open wound and making it worse.  Welcome to Betty's world.

I told Brian, ex-whatever that my greatest weapon is the truth.

And I wield my weapon well if you're the enemy.  

Like I drew a line in the sand with my ex-husband when he reached out to me last week.  I told him that there was no redemption for him…and a few more things.  It's not me.  I don't hurt, mike.  I heal.  Doctors take the oath to do no harm.  That is my motto in life.  After multiple straws that broke the camel's back multiple times, I broke.  I couldn't forgive anymore.  

As hard as I tried, I failed.

He deserved crucification.  But it was me that stopped forgiving.

So I don't know if you read as much history as I do but the point is, shit ain't shit.  It's always the same story with every generation, every life lived.  Nothing is special.  We just get through it and do our best and if we are super amazing, we get a footnote in the encyclopedia.  I get the score.

So me, not a fun person ever.

I just wish I was worthwhile.

Look closely and you will find miles and miles of emptiness.

And mothers live for their children.  That gene must have skipped me.

I too much believe in free will, perhaps to my children's detriment.

I'm such a fuck up mike.

In countless ways.  The first that comes to mind is the way I consoled the cashier at Sav A lot.  I knew what she needed and I told her what she wanted to hear.  

Maybe it was the right thing to do.  

Or maybe I was selling out, because I never lie and it felt like a lie.