confession: my sober self is naturally affectionate, generous, and socially inappropriate. these three characteristics are magnified in my drunk self.
confession: i don’t know how the conversation began, but i’m sure i initiated it. i don’t remember much of what we talked about, but i remember a few things. there was more i wanted to say to him, more i wanted to explain, questions i wanted to ask, but i didn’t. i don’t think he cares to know or share. i left for a lot of reasons, more reasons than i completely comprehend. the most important reason for me right now is that i only want to spend time with people who fully and truly want to know, see, and be with all of me.
confession: online drunk middle of the night shopping purchases are revealed in surprise shipping notices in my inbox the next day.
confession: i am hesitant to make eye contact with most people. other people’s eyes sometimes demand something from me rather than seek to see me.
confession: i held the child out in front of me, facing her mother, which means the puke landed on her instead of me.
confession: something is eating the papers in my glove box. i’m afraid of it. i’m afraid to look for it. will someone please extract the paper-munching critter living in my glove box?
confession: i almost trust us now. we’re getting better at being together.
confession: sometimes i want to give you the diamonds, the pearls, the rubies. i’ve willed them to you in case i die but right now i’m alive. i want to give them to you now. i want to see you wearing them because i stopped wearing them years ago. and besides, you made me promise to outlive you, so if we wait until i die, you’ll already be dead and will never have had them.
confession: when i die, half of the life insurance money and half of my assets are willed to the ex-wife. i need to change the will. changing the will is the last break between us. it’s gonna take a few more years before i’m ready to do that last thing. just thinking about taking her name out of my will makes me physically ill. i’m still angry and i still love her and i still wish things had ended differently or continued healthfully and mostly i still can’t believe i’m living this life without her through another holiday season, another summer, another birthday.
confession: most of the time i don’t ask for what i want. sometimes i don’t ask because i don’t know what i want. sometimes i don’t ask because i want conflicting things. sometimes i don’t ask because the last time i asked and the time before and the other time before my request was ignored or forgotten or dismissed. i have to practice asking more often, even if and when the request goes unfulfilled. i feel like i make this confession every week and this confession is the one that i need to live more gracefully each week.
confession: the thing i want and need most this week is my own forgiveness. what can you do to help me get that?
confession: i hear myself say i’m sorry to people who don’t need or want my apology. the “i’m sorry” is projected and ought to be self-directed. i’m sorry for some of the ways i behave, for some of my feelings, for my faults and flaws and inadequacies. i’m sorry i’m not perfect and even though i know that no one wants, needs, or expects me to be perfect and that perfect is boring anyway, i’m still sorry that i fuck up so much and so often. i’m sorry that when my feelings are hurt i become aggressive and combative because admitting my hurt feelings makes me feel too vulnerably exposed. i’m sorry for the things i never tell you, the secrets i keep because i am ashamed. i’m sorry for shutting you out when you want me to let you in. i’m sorry i don’t call when i’m crying because i don’t know how to talk through tears. i’m sorry that i hold onto anger that hides my hurt. i’m sorry when i don’t speak plainly or can’t explain my complicated self. i’m sorry that my complications confuse you. i’m sorry that i’m not easier to get along with because i’m fighting invisible battles inside me. i’m sorry that i’m afraid of loving you as much as i love you. i’m sorry that sometimes i run away and return to start a fight and then run away again. i’m sorry that when i show you my crazy sometimes it is crazier than you want to deal with. i’m sorry that i feel everything deeply. i’m sorry when i drink too much. i’m sorry that food frightens me. i’m sorry when i speak unkindly to you. i’m sorry that i offend you. i’m sorry i ignore you. i’m sorry that i’m afraid to walk up to you and give you the compliments i think about you.
confession: i love the ways we respectfully disagree. i love what i learn from our differing perspectives expressed during those disagreements.
confession: i love you more again today. (yes, you…the one reading right now. you.)