I can’t believe its been 3 years. Its been a continuous battle, harboring the pain on a daily basis. In fact I’m lucky if a day goes by where I don’t remember something from the relationships I had. 3 years.
The worst part is that there isn’t really anyone to blame. Everyone did what they though was right. Everyone got hurt. I would argue that I got hurt the most but I imagine that’s what everyone would say.
Three years ago I lost some of my “brothers” because I divulged that I was feeling depressed and getting to the realm of being suicidal. One of the families took me in for a week. It ended up being one of the best weeks of my life because it was exactly what I needed at the time. It showed that someone cared. It gave me hope.
Then they turned their backs. They each had their own, mostly valid, reasons for doing so. They took away everything I cared for at the time, replacing it with weekly visits to some stranger.
And I hate them for it.
But more importantly, I miss the old relationships. I miss what we had before I screwed everything up. Yet, by taking the blame, in my mind means that I shouldn’t have done what I needed to do. That I should have killed myself instead of doing what I did, a realization I simply cannot allow as an acceptable response.
So now I am torn; torn between accepting vengeance or trying to make amends. Between hating them for turning their backs or hating me for forcing their hand. Here I stand, trying to figure out what I want to do, what I should do, but above all who I want to become at the end of all this. And for that reason I am the only one that can make the decision.
Easily one of the hardest things I have done and most emotionally taxing going through it. The easy road of retribution is so appealing. But I know it is not who I want to become. And so I keep fighting.
Toby Breckenridge 