V,
I know you are harboring a lot of anger. Anger towards me, and towards a lot of other things. This anger towards me, you have told me, keeps you from really speaking to me. That is what has been happening. You have not been able to forgive me, even when you say that not all this anger is rational, that not all of it makes sense. And that, I understand. I have had time to see that rational or not, foregiveness for how I have made you feel is not something that is going to come easily.
You said, during our trip, that you keep thinking these violent and horrible things. That you keep holding back much of it, as it is clear to you that some of those things are not worth saying. That you can see how saying them is going to make things worse. And I suppose that you mean unnecessarily worse. And part of me feels, or wants to feel, that at least that could mean that those things still not hold true in your heart and that you are recognizing them as part of this terrible anger you are holding.
I have told you before, in the context of the whole situation we have been experiencing, that underneath all my layers, I am an optimist. I am not sure if optimist is the correct word, to be honest. What I mean is that in reality, the me who looks at the future and imagines the life that is to be always sees light. That regardless of the anger and the sadness, that there is some part of me, of my spirit, that deeply believes in us. Past, present and future. And sees what is happening now as a consequence of the things that we must learn and have not learned yet. When I say I believe in us, I suppose what I mean is that I believe that the love we truly have for each other is engine enough for the learning and the wisdom that we need to acquire. That life has demanded us to acquire.
The content of this anger is very complex. And I know it is very deep. We have lost our outlets to communicate effectively about important things. I regret a lot how we managed the topic about having children. I regret how it merged into how you went away to face the terribly painful situation of your mother's accident. I regret everyhting about how that in itself was managed. How I could not at that time understand fully how to be with you. How to let go of my own stupid worries about how life was going to be now, and just be there for you in the most painful moment in your life. I failed you, I know. I failed you deeply. I will regret that all my life. This will probably leave a stain in us. I just hope we can become stronger from this. In some sense. At least in some sense.
Today, once again, your anger has become manifest. And this time, it has been a new instance of a repeated story. Something we have been dragging for a while, and that I don't feel I have been able to fuslly grasp. You call me, and for whatever reason I don't pick up. I still have not figured out how to feel about this. It is one of these situations where I will always have an excuse. It is never that I don't pick up because I don't want to. Today, I was working. Doing a presentation I regarded as important, at work. I was at the same time nervous because I was about to speak publicly, and excited, as showing people what I have been doing has been something I wanted to do for a while. I silenced my phone for this reason. People asked me questions afterwards. I moved immediatly to another meeting, after briefly sending some messages to you. As the meeting concluded and I went back to my phone, there I found your messages. Angry, angry, angry. I do not know what to make of this. Honestly.
- M