I wanted to write this to you to explain. I have been so angry for so long. I have been eaten up by my anger. I have been unfair.
But, I have also been fair.
You cannot understand why I feel the way I feel.
I have been horrendously, ant-agonizingly, madly, infuriated at you. I have been so angry, that the outside people have noticed for the first time in years.
I am angry at the way they treat you, angry at the way this has been handled angry at the doctors, the therapists, angry at myself, angry at the coulda, shoulda, woulda, but most of all, you.
But as we were walking that June 4th, and as I fumed inside about how I hated you, how I hated this situation, how I absolutely loathed you…
I realized something.
None of this was your fault. You are not to blame.
your sickness, was not you.
none of it.
you were a product of misdiagnosis.
And I can no longer blame you for it.
I feel guilty too.
And I’m still angry as hell. All those years of FINE have left a deep impression on me, and if it’s not perfect now it couldn’t be as bad as it was.
Much LOVE, HATE, AND GUILT.