content warning
heavy
emotional violence
clear expression of hurt / tender / vulnerable feelings
hints of far larger harm

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series: listening to meshsam
end – 1 =
gladness in your heart

I am intentionally using gender neutral pronouns (they, their, them, etc.) and referring to them as “this person” to not reveal anything about their identity. I know it likely my abuser will eventually read this. I still cross paths with them occasionally.

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I don’t think you one single time showed up to conflict with gladness in your heart.

You said you were ready, you said you wanted to be there, ɪ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ and ɪ ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ because that is my responsibility (in a loving, consensual, generative connection) – ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ times. And you said yes. 

And you never once acknowledged the shitty shitty harmful effects of that on me. You were too terrified of your own behavior and its implications to look it in the eye. Yes, you technically said something once along the lines of “yeah I wasn’t ready” but that is far different than saying, holding, with feeling, remorse, pain, empathy – “I hurt you, because of my choices, and I am sorry. I’m not handling this kindly, maturely, groundedly, connectively, safely, and that is my responsibility.”

Your pain was higher in that moment, the weekend of my birthday, so that was my priority.

“Highest need comes first.”

It was easy to see and do and feel. I cared for your pain and your safety in a way you never did mine. I prioritized you, and you didn’t prioritize me. You prioritized you. No wonder my sense of Self depleted; I was giving to you, lifting you up, supporting you, sacrificing for you and expecting the same because you said you cared, you loved me, you knew this and that and the other thing about connective, supportive friendships, but you don’t. You didn’t give back, you didn’t give Wholeheartedly – you took. You took and you hid your theft under the guise of service.

“I’m a good person,” and thus cannot do harm.
“I’m a kind person,” and thus cannot be mean.
“I’m trauma informed,” and thus cannot be unsafe.
“I’m an advocate,” and thus cannot punch down.
“I’m authentic,” and thus cannot have healing left to do.
“I’m a good friend,” and thus cannot be a bad one.
“I’m in a supportive community,” and thus cannot be divisive.
“I’m loving,” and thus cannot be hateful.
“I’m cherished,” and thus cannot crush, cannot tear down, cannot destroy. 

ɪ ɢᴀᴠᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴏʟᴇ.
ɪ ғᴇʟᴛ sᴀғᴇᴛʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛᴜᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ɪᴛ.
ɪ ʜᴇʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴜsʜᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ̨ᴜᴇᴇᴢᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴇssᴜʀᴇᴅ.

You wanted what I had, you needed it, and I gave gladly, happily, until I couldn’t. Until you sucked the gift dry and asked for more, and blamed me at every turn.

“That’s twisted,” you said – confronted by the world’s least inciteful way to talk about feelings, the least provocative way to say – “you are taking from me.”

“Part of me feels you care more for what you want than what I need.”

And I was right. I was always right.

You wrapped me in your arms and said you weren’t going anywhere, and the next day you broke up with me. You abandoned me. You said we would find a mutually beneficial connection no matter the form, and you withdrew completely. You said you cared for me, but you cared more for how I affected your life. You said you loved me, but you didn’t do any of the hard work.

Love is easy, because of the effort put in outside the present moment. 

You said you would hold me. You said you knew how. And when you realized you couldn’t, you didn’t know how, you were not the person you believed yourself to be, you cut me to a more manageable size. 

You said you loved me, but where was the gratitude in your heart?

Our conflict was generative so long as I held the line, held my values, held my feelings under onslaught of blame, accusations, shame, fear, lack of accountability.

“I’m scared.” – you wished more people in your life said that to you. And yet… you seem to be under the impression you have a good process? That you aren’t still suffering in old hurts? That you aren’t perpetuating those hurts onto others? That you aren’t making others feel small so you can feel big?

And smaller I became, eventually. I let you, but ʏᴏᴜ did it. That fault is not mine.

Where are these boundaries you speak of so high and mightily? You don’t have boundaries, you have walls. Rigid, inflexible, and high high high to keep you safe.

“Connection first, then safety.”

I was right about that too, though it took me so long to find it again. Connection is inherently unsafe, there will always be the potential for harm. If you are only making safe choices, there can be no brave ones. No growth. 

“Trust is given, not earned.” The amount of times you looked at me incredulously for that one. 

It is not my fault you wandered into my life, then kicked open the door (and pretended it was the wind), and had to confront the many many ways in which you were not living to your own standards.

I am not perfect, I caused harm, and I knew where I was on my journey. I was upfront and aware of my self in ways you will never be, unless you do the work. The scary work of looking in the mirror and the effect of your actions. Of choosing accountability instead of fleeing.

“I’M DONE”

They never said that again in that way. The panicked, scared, hurt and hurtful, ʀᴇᴀʟ way. They were. They left. They took control instead of taking the leap. They got what they wanted. They got to leave without being hurt. 

My fear came true, because I placed it in their hands. I trusted them. Their fear did not [come true].

They took it with them. And hold it still.

I at least am moving through mine. Trust yields dividends, yet again. Even through the ups and many many downs, I was right to trust.

I am here. I am learning. I needed them, and I found what I needed.

Even if they refuse to admit they needed, need, me too.

I didn’t make them feel unsafe. They didn’t have space for me. They didn’t have space to confront their problems, themselves.

It’s all I ask. I am here for you along the way, to unceasingly support and cherish you, so you can do those hard, scary things. Because I can’t do them for you. No one can.

I had that lesson to learn as well.

I was grateful and proud of every lesson I learned from them. They were ashamed of their own.

I loved failing with them. They failed loving me.

BIATCH =D <3

—2/7/25