Letter number 21: Letting go

Dear Alexandra,

I’ve come to realise that the purpose I’ve weaved around these letters isn’t really what my motivation is. I’m not really writing to you, I’m writing to myself. The construct of trying to articulate things to you in a haphazard yet semi-organised way is an attempt to organise my thought processes. It’s basically a journal, really, with a layer of protection in being overtly so.

Yesterday felt tough, because it marked a pause, even a regression in what felt like some progress. I told N. and S. about my dream, they helped interpret it — and it kind of makes sense. It is entirely inappropriate for me to have focused so much energy and emotion into worrying about you in the aftermath of these events to which you were the architect. I know it’s my go-to position, I actually do love that about myself, but I must temper it with the requirement to be mindful of my needs.

An interesting conversation with N. brought up a word I’ve thought about a lot but I don’t think I’ve said “out loud” in these letters. Abuse. Consciously, willing or not you have subjected me to mental abuse for the last year, and on occasions before that too. Of course, there are possibly some mitigating circumstances — PMDD, hormonal imbalances, your own mental ill health — but I’ve fixated on your excuses and not really addressed the impact.

You can’t on the one hand withhold contact from somebody you purportedly love when you know they are suffering desperately from isolation due to the ravages of hormonal surges, whilst simultaneously cultivating an online romance behind his back. These bouts in which you claim you simply can’t function with people seem to be spectacularly selective with who bears the brunt of them.

Whether on some level you were hedging your bets, trying to keep the safe option open whilst exploring alternatives — I don’t know, you were happy to accept gifts, talk future plans — even after the break up — assuming I was content to continue to play organiser, financier, chauffeur. I don’t think you set out to consciously mentally torture me, but on some level you must have had some conception of the impact that your actions were having on me. And you didn’t do anything to stop it.

This is a definite diversion from Logical Bert, I’m analysing here and I don’t think it’s overtly healthy — but it is helping to re-enforce the truth of the matter, and it’s painful to type this, but I am better off without you. I think even without the cheating and the lies even. I don’t mean that in a spiteful or vindictive way, it’s simply a fact. I do miss you, but I miss those fleeting things, the companionship, the closeness — I do think we genuinely had that, but for whatever reason it faded for you.

The gaps in worry I have — I spent much of the last year consumed with worrying about Frankie, she’s gone now, the rest was worrying about us, and that’s gone too. It’s left a vacuum of brain-space, and whilst initially waves of negatively rushed in to fill that space and more, I’ve been working hard to try to manage that and let the positivity in. But I have kept space aside to continue worrying about you.

I don’t want to punish you, particularly, but I think now it’s time to try to make an effort to realise that really only you can help yourself. I tried to kickstart this for you — I asked friends to reach out, I talked to your Mum — it’s in your hands now. I am being mindful of not providing triggers or reasons why the recovery I think you need is hindered — but I need to stop trying to be the person to facilitate it. That used to be my job, you spurned that — that’s on you.

So I’ll be selective over what you see from me via social media, I wrote another personal blog post but made sure the accompanying Facebook post won’t appear to you. We’ve blocked each other on Twitter anyway so you won’t see it there. If you ever think to go direct to my blog then I can’t really help that — it seems unlikely, because that would imply you’re actually showing an interest in lifting your thoughts away from yourself. It’s probably healthy for you to keep your distance from me too.

I’m not going to message or call, either you or your Mum. I’ll not blank you if you reach out to me, but I’ll be mindful to respond in a way I feel is appropriate and not damaging to myself. I hope you did spend some quality time with her yesterday, I know you’d planned to. I’m not convinced how honest you are with your therapist or how affective she is from before everything went wrong, I guess if you do talk to your Mum honestly she can help you to work through things.

I found a few other things on my phone to adjust — you were tagged as a favourite in my photos app which means that the ‘memories’ function quite often shows up photos from happier times. They were happy times too, I don’t resent or regret those memories, but for now I think it’s best they’re not randomly popping up on my phone screen. So they don’t now. I adjusted my Facebook settings so I don’t get a notification when you post, not that you have (at least that I can see).

Part of me wonders if I should just sever those Facebook ties too, but I haven’t yet. I want to maintain the illusion I guess because we have the awkward position of mutual friends who don’t actually know frankly how fucking awful you’ve been. I don’t want them to, because I really hope you reach out to real people to help yourself, so I don’t want to be party to any of them feeling they need to take sides, to give you any excuse to feel ‘shut out’ — even though you will.

After we posted matching statuses to tell people we’d parted ways, you said more than once “people like you more than me”, even counting likes or comments (as it happens, the likes/comments were pretty much even between them!), asking me how many people had messaged, lamenting you’d had less (although I know you’ve basically been lying about people reaching out from Sherlock Bert days). I guess if I’m being blunt you reap what you sow in terms of support from friends. You like to paint yourself as an empathetic person always looking to help people struggling, in reality, I’m struggling to think of too many examples. Those I can think of you estranged from soon after.

There may be exceptions within the confines of a fantasy gaming world with emotes, semi-fictional people who struggle with real world connections, often with the added security of oceans separating you. But of course that was a world where you denied my existence, kept me at arms length when I tried to show an interest — where your urge for infidelity finally manifested. Without blaming the individuals involved, it’s a world where your moral compass doesn’t work at all.

So I have a big worry gap in my brain, which should be a good thing — if I don’t fill it with darkness or new worries. I’ve already noticed I’m financially better off, I was constantly looking for little things to make you smile, make you think of me, things we could do together. Not long after things went wrong I ordered a mail order puzzle thing for you — something you’d enjoy that doesn’t require jacking up to the Matrix. They only ship toward the end of each month, I emailed them a couple of weeks ago to try to divert it here but they haven’t replied.

I can’t change that now, it was an impulse when focusing too much energy on you was still in the ascendancy. If they didn’t adjust the address and send it to you I hope you enjoy it and it helps. Whilst latterly you regularly swerved weekend trips up here, I’m using less fuel — even despite going into the office more and playing football regularly. Once lockdown levels out and we approach normality I can do a bit of a review of the money stuff. I’ve always been mindful of it because you’re not — keen to build us a firm foundation for our future. It’s my future now, maybe I need to review those priorities a little.

So yes, Letting Go. I need to do it, it won’t be easy. I like ‘looking after’ people, nurturing, helping. I loved doing that for you — being there, helping you with CVs, re-wording your assessments, finding silly or serious gifts that would make you happy — it’s hard to let go of that, even now, trying to find surreptitious ways to help you. It’s not my job any more, and that was your choice. I need to focus on the things that will help me.

I have my first assessment with the therapy sessions work organised on Monday, I think this does involve 1:1 sessions which I’m nervous about but also feel positive. Ironically these letters could be helpful to share with my therapist to try to unpick the labyrinth of things I’m grappling with. What you did is, I think, just the straw that broke the camel’s back — you aren’t responsible for everything that’s got me to this point. I’m going to work to suspend the discomfort it evokes and put my own needs first.

I hope you are able to do something similar — your actual needs, not distractions and fantasies only. We all need distractions and fantasies of course, but you can’t build a whole life around it. Maybe you can. But I’m going to try not to think too much about it now. I think it’s probably time to change my typical sign-off for these letters too.

I hope you’re okay, Bert