Letters you write but don't send
First blog of 2022.
The 3rd anniversary of your funeral has been and gone. I was talking to a friend yesterday about this blog and I thought about the letter I'd written to Sz in December. I took hours to put it together and used the tool to read it aloud back to me. Even with the automated voice, it was kind, full of pain, set boundaries but I didn't, I couldn't send it. It might have been I just needed to write it, to express myself and actually tap in to feelings. Identifying my feelings has been a huge learning curve these last few months, thanks to Atlas of the heart by Brené Brown. I have to ask myself what would the letter have achieved... anxiety mostly. Do they deserve to know my vulnerability, how much they contributed to my misery? Would they care enough to lean in or would they attack? They did post up a FB status about sending people things and not expecting anything back, so I didn't send anything, like I'd usually do, I did of course say thank you via a private message. I'm not into the habit posting all over my social media and tagging people who give me things either. Voyeurism isn't necessary when you give proper thanks directly. I have seen that they've recently been out with K and are still good friends. If I'm honest, I no longer wish to try and rescue this so-called friendship. No ill is wished but also no interest.
No one really reads this blog (because I still rarely share it) but I feel I need to include it as it's relevant to the whole sorry saga.
