Last week we had to close the hurricane shutters
being suicidal is a little like that
It’s dark
It’s scary and you’re not sure if you should stay or if you should go
It’s loud, so loud, but you only have a rough idea of how much danger you’re actually in
It’s isolating
There is no way out
Well, there is one way, but it’s difficult to decide
People will tell you all sorts of things
Things that they think you should do
Things that they would do in your position
Things any reasonable person would do
But a hurricane is not reasonable
It’s noisy, and it claws at you just on the other side of those black metal shutters trying to get in
And always -what will people think?
Terrible things, people will think terrible things, you already knew that didn’t you?
They will call you a coward
You will break your children’s hearts
But the only person’s heart I want to break is yours
The only voice I want to stop clawing at me is yours
I wish you would just die
It would be so much simpler to love you when all hope of you ever loving me is gone
It’s the hope that kills, I think
It’s my hope that kills me
When Johnny died there were pages in his journal about the beast in his head
The beast? that was him, the man you let harm your children
The man you let beat us, belittle us
The man who called 10 year me a stupid cunt while he held fistfuls of my hair and pushed my face into my breakfast because he thought I had stolen change from his dresser
I had, fuck him
But it’s not his voice that is screaming in my head
It’s yours
I want you to die so maybe, that voice will stop
I want you to die so that he will be alone, hopefully sitting in his own filth, unloved and isolated
I want him to live a long time like that, alone
But mostly, I want you to die
I want you to die, not quickly, not quietly, or in your sleep, and not at peace
I want you to die slowly and ask for me and for me not to come
I want you to die unforgiven, knowing your only living child did not forgive you
Loved you yes, I fucking hate that part, but I want you to know that I do not forgive you
Your granddaughter is getting married, and she didn’t tell you
Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t
All of your grandchildren want nothing to do with you
The most obvious answer is because you let him say horrible things to me, and to them
You say horrible things about everyone really, except yourself, and him
What kind of a mother does that?
What kind of a mother picks herself and her twenty Talbot cashmere sweater sets over her children and grandchildren?
Honestly, I want to know
The less obvious answer is because beyond allowing his abuse, you told us we were crazy for even trying to talk about it or heal from it
That will fuck with someone’s mind let me tell you.
Did you ever have moment when you wanted to protect us? Where you thought about standing between his fists and his words and your children?
Maybe you did, I doubt it, because
what would people say?
What the fuck would people say, mother?
We can’t have people knowing what was happening in our home, can we?
Where would your polished image be then?
What good would the cashmere, dinner parties and shoes be if everyone knew they belonged to a monster?
You were always beautiful on the outside and terrible on the inside
I think you might be aware of this
You let it happen
Over and over
And then would make us tell him we loved him because it upset him so when he lost his temper and smacked us around
That poor man you would say
He loves you, you would say
He didn’t mean it, you would say
You own sister asked you to stop him
She told me that many, many years later, shortly before she died herself
You said no, she told me that too.
I hope that haunts you
I hope you never find peace
I hope how ugly you are on the inside becomes visible to everyone, and that you know that they see it, finally.
I hope when you look at yourself in the mirror you are filled with revulsion at the site
It’s his voice that Johnny listened to on repeat when he killed himself, did you know that?
And we both know it took Johnny years and years to finally die, listening to that asshole over and over
It’s your voice that I will hear
It’s your voice I hear now, it does not stop, it comes out of everyone I see and speak to
It is my whole world somedays and I hate it
I hate you
I hate that nothing will shut it up for more than few moments at a time
It is always there
I think the only reason I’m still alive is I fought back
I punched back, I stole the fucking change from his dresser and spit in his food
Johnny just took it, soaked it all up, and tried to make peace
My baby brother’s desire for peace is what killed him
I hate that I still desperately want you to love me
I think I hate that the most
It makes me feel pathetic
Because I know I come running back to you when you offer even the tiniest scrap of kindness
Like some poor dog who squirms on its belly trying to appease its abusive owner
Tail tucked, head bowed, just hoping that this time will be different
That this time it’s okay, that it’s safe
It never is for more than a moment
You do take exceptional care of your dogs, ironically
always have
Loved them without condition
Would never, and I mean never let anyone harm them
People say people who are kind to dogs are good people, but that’s not always true is it?
It’s not that you are incapable of love
You are simply incapable of loving me
You are not incapable of kindness and care
You are incapable of kindness and care toward me
Unless, of course we’re in public, then you’re the image of a caring mother
The well dressed, socially perfect mother
Ah, but when you do love me, it’s the best feeling in the world
After the hurricane I stood on the beach, waves at my ankles, sometimes my shins
It wasn’t the waves that would knock me over, it was the way they shifted the sand under my feet and I lost my balance
That’s what if feels like when you love me, glorious, powerful, and beautiful, until the undertow shifts the sand beneath me and what I thought was solid is pulled out from under me
I’ve described it as walking on eggshells, holding on to the moments when you loved me, but really it feels more like sand shifting when I’m not paying close attention and then I’m underwater, again
Crab walking backwards to safety, again.
And I want you know, down in your bones, I want this to be the only thing you hear
That you are responsible, that you have killed me
That I do not forgive you
That I do not wish you peace
That I wish you would just die slowly knowing you destroyed your children because you cared more about yourself, your shoes, your image and that asshole.
