It’s been four years since I sent that first letter of resignation to my FOO, and started out on a journey of trying to figure the whole mess out.
Four years since it finally got so bad that it was more painful to have a “family” than not have one.
Four years since I realized I did have that choice, and that there was a better chance for me to be happier if I made it.
Last night I dreamed I got an email from one of my nieces, telling me that one of my brothers was dead. It was very realistic: I could tell you exactly what it said, who sent it, who had died. The dream woke me up, and I was a little startled, and a little sad. Because if I find out at all, that’s how I’ll find out. I know that.
And I know that’s how this will all end, because — barring an act of god or some other form of miracle — I know this is how it will all stay.
And while it’s a shame, it’s still better for me than going back to the way things were.
I’ve made this decision, knowingly, consciously, rationally, because things were shittier for me without this decision.
That is my reality. That is what is real for me.
My FOO will instantly say that I’m wrong — because they have no other option. I cannot possibly be allowed to be right, even about myself and my own reality. Is that the epitome of arrogance, or what?
But they need for me to be wrong, so they can continue to be right.
That’s why nothing is going to change. Because what needs to be true for them is to deny me my reality. They need to erase me and diminish me, and hurt me — or at least, allow me to be attacked and hurt, and refuse to do anything about it: refuse to protect me, defend me, or even just to listen to me.
And what I need from them: justice, fairness, and accountability, for the Susan Incident — along with equality, respect, and acceptance, for the long term, the things that are missing which allowed the Susan Incident to happen — they are still adamantly unwillingly to give me.
Given all that, it should have been an easy choice. It wasn’t. But my choice was really between two shitty things. For me, there was no “good” option. The choice to keep the peace, not make waves, not stand up for myself, just “forget” about the horrible way Susan and Joe acted towards me on the worst day of my life — that was also a shitty choice. It was an easy choice for everyone else, so for years I tried it.
Then four years ago, my youngest brother just had to throw it all back in my face, and that’s when I finally had had enough.
I am sure no one has blamed him for picking that fight. I am sure I get the blame for that too, right along with the fight I supposedly picked with Joe and Susan. And they can, and will, go on believing what they need to believe in order to make it all my fault.
I’m definitely better off without that bullshit. Easy choice, no. Right choice, yes.