• Not Going to Your Wedding

    by  • November 23, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Resentment • 0 Comments


    Oh where and how to begin this letter. After a year of not talking to each other, you skype me out of the blue to tell me that you’re getting married and that I’m invited.

    I cannot go. I could go into all the reasons why I cannot go, why I will decline the invitation, why I will not darken the door of the Church where you are the Pastor again so long as you are there; but knowing that my silence has meant nothing to you, it will be wasted speech. So, continuing in my passive-agressive fashion, I put it up here for hundreds to read.

    Over three years ago, we were introduced to each other with the intention of starting a relationship. A mutual friend thought we would be a great couple. I suspect that you took one long look up one side of me and down the other, and determined that you would have nothing to do with me in that department. It would have been helpful if you had told me that, instead of flirting with me, telling me that you loved me, that you thought I was beautiful, calling me various endearing names. It really would have been more helpful to me if you had admitted your disgust instead of using my known feelings as means of getting what you wanted and having me do all kinds of favours for you at my expense. You treated me poorly throughout what could only be best described as the most emotionally manipulated friendship I have ever had the misfortune to be a member.

    In October 2010, I had had enough. It became glaringly obvious to me that I allowed you to treat me so poorly when I discovered I had become a nervous wreck, full of self-doubt, unable to make any decent decision without consulting other people. I was shattered and scattered. I deliberately tried to separate myself from you, trying to get you to take responsibility for your role in what had happened to me. I left the Church denomination of my family for you! I nearly lost my job to help you! You paraded yourself around in front of me like a proud peacock, wearing only underwear when you knew how I felt! What had you done for me? What would you have done for me? You wouldn’t even drive me home to see my father in the hospital after his accident because it was too close to Sunday morning – if he was your father, how fast would I have been taken home? What had I done to myself? Why had I let you do this?

    What value did I seriously have in your life? I didn’t have much value for me anymore. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

    You never called. I was the one who made the phone calls. I was the one who started the conversations, and you treated me like I was a waste of your time.

    Yes I wrote letters. Letters are my preferred method to communicate because I can hold undivided attention for a few moments, and for a moment you couldn’t interrupt, you couldn’t manipulate, you couldn’t ridicule. You would try to talk with me on Facebook, but I couldn’t relax. I had done so much self-work to not let you affect me, but you still managed to upset me. Then you skyped me, and told me you were getting married and you wanted me to be there.

    I am telling you here, I cannot go. I will not go. I cannot answer the congregational support questions honestly. I cannot go there and promise to support and care for you and your new wife. I cannot do that honestly. It is not something I can do before God. I do not know when I can make that promise. I don’t know if I can. I’m not going to be humiliated by you; I’m not going to be manipulated by you; I’m not going to be shattered or scattered any more.

    If by not going to your wedding, you finally see who I am, then we might begin to finally understand each other. I haven’t met your new wife. I don’t know if I will ever be ready to meet her, because I wonder how she managed to not be manipulated or humiliated. Clearly she is/was stronger than me; and I do not need to publicly see how weak I was.

    I am not going to your wedding. That is the first strong thing I have said to you in the entire three years we’ve known each other. How does that feel?


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