My Letters to Oprah

were never sent


They were never even put down on paper until now, well,
cyber-paper, if you will. Not that I didn't compose them in my
mind, over and over so very many times, but they never got
written down, not once. So of course, they were never sent.
Maybe now, maybe this way. Maybe...


March 19, 2008

Such a funny little sound it was, not quite a keyboard click but oddly similar; a teeny bit like the soft, sharp chirp of a small bird off in the distance. Or maybe more like a twig snapping while a kitten purred. Any way, it's too difficult to describe, this strange surprising little sound I heard when I finally broke.

I expected the breaking; I've known it's been coming for many months now, lived with the knowledge and played different scenarios in my mind trying to imagine what it would be like. You've probably been expecting it too as you've watched me coping and not coping simultaneously. But I didn't expect to hear a sound when it happened. And I'm sorry that I'll never be able to describe it accurately for you because, trust me, you never ever want to hear it yourself.

So I've learned that you can imagine, dream and construct all the educated, logical guesses you want to for more than a year about what it will be like when you break and yet be totally and completely off the mark wrong. It's nothing like I ever thought it would be. And there was a sound…
I never thought there'd be an audio element to it, how stupid am I?

There will be no more TODAY lists, let God play it out as he will without me. (I used to think that God might be female but to so constantly and relentlessly hit me from every conceivable direction including inside out and sideways, just proves that God has to be a guy) Yes, I've renounced and cursed him at least once too often but in my defense, though I've threatened it, I have never actually embraced the Devil. And you, up there, all knowing deity, you know that.

I am done with state tax Charlie and negotiating payment plans that won't be able to be adhered to any way and the IRS checks I write each month and the new car payment I haven't even received yet and the property taxes for the not my house. And done with all the many insurance folks both auto and medical that plagued me these past four incredible, over the top weeks. Done with the worrying about my son, my mom, my husband, my dogs, my friends, my job; I'm just done.

The breaking was not the big eye popping extravaganza I expected at all. It was tiny and quick, a minute fissure in something; my mind, my me-ness, my soul? I don't know but whatever part of this me I am that cracked ever so slightly allowed my anger and rage to leak out and now I am empty. The little sound, the little crack and there I went.

I am still and cold or more accurately, neither cold nor warm and feel myself going inside now. Not to be confused with dramatically ending it all please, suicide doesn't work for me. I'm much too not brave for that. I've always felt these other facets of me and maybe that's all this breaking is; the good riddance to the many me's, the ones who keep trying and keep fighting and keep attempting to make right of wrongs. The struggling, suffering, feeling ones I've come to hate because they really don't make things better any way.

I just want to stop. If I lie down and close my eyes I can be back in my garden again. I can be home. That's where I want to be; I was never meant to be here, now. Don't they say the human mind is an unexplained mystery? In this mind that once, long ago, could bend spoons I'm sure I can find one little inner-space that I can tuck this broken me into and rest and be still. I know it's there because I've seen glimpses of it before but my other facets blocked my path. Now that they're gone I am free to go inside and explore. Please let me go, let me be; you are all stronger than you think you are and you've never needed me. Loved me, liked me, used me, were irritated or amused by me but never, ever needed this so flawed, loud, high maintenance, abrasive multi-personality me.


2008 - www.letters-to-oprah.com

my lost garden

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