I have a letter to write to someone; I can't let the betrayal go until I do.
I think about the betrayal too often, but lately I am writing the letter in my head, and sharing it verbally with my husband.
He agrees the person betrayed me, stepped over a clear boundary, isn't the least bit sorry, and further is what I rarely call (but in this case do call) sanctimonious.
I'm afraid to write it because it will trigger me by revisiting the event 'in detail' well enough to convey what she did. I'm afraid to send it until I leave this primitive red town, but as long as I'm here as my husband noted--when it dawned on him as I was venting, "You can't be sure it won't happen again."
This town is such a cluster fuck of a conservative Jesus Club that everyone seems to be tied to each other in some way: former roommates, used to attend the same church, divorced couples who do attend the same church, went to kindergarten together, share the same doctor who is best friends with the pastor of the church the betrayer not only attends but is a center player in...
I never lived in a small, rural area before. I knew I wasn't cut out for it, but here we are until (minimally) next spring, and the person I need to write to owns a house a block over from where I'm living now.
If I run into her, I don't want to do some kind of fake, "Hi, how you doing?" and I don't want to blow, be incoherent and illogical.
I want to lay it out in a letter, rewrite it until the crux is clear, and let it go.
I can't 'expect' someone like her to respect 'em; I have to protect myself--instead of putting out so much of myself protecting others.
I need to get this out of my head, off my shoulders, freeing up needed energy for myself.
And the only way to do that is to tell the person directly, which for me is in writing because I am a rewriter. It takes me a lot of honing to make it tight--after circling around the main point for a few drafts.
And I don't know that I'll do it.
My not knowing if I'll do it means that some part of me is having disrespect for the rest of me, or 'that' part of me--the one afraid of the consequences of speaking my mind and there being a record of it for her to distort.
Fuck, she'll distort it anyway, I know that.
Conflict: Outer or inner--both kinds suck.