The last time I saw you I felt regret and guilt. But also, I missed you. And I hated myself for it. And then you stayed in touch for a week or two and we video chatted.
And then you went to North Carolina and reconnected with that psycho chick. I sent you a message once on FB and you humiliated me in response. I know you probably didn’t intend to, but you were right and I was ashamed of myself.
I haven’t heard from you since.
And you not only ignored me, but you ignored my Beanlet.
You were welcome here for those 3 weeks and you would have been welcome longer. Because no matter how much it may damage me, I can’t turn my back on family. I told you then that you would always be welcome. And you are welcome now. I wouldn’t ever close my door to someone so important to Jack.
But I’m terrified.
I’m terrified of the feelings we expressed to each other when you were here before. And I’m terrified of the shame I felt the last time we communicated. I’m terrified of the conflict that existed between me and Jack when you were here before (and in the week or two after you left).
But I hear you’re coming back. Kind of a last resort it seems like. A week from Monday Jack tells me. I haven’t heard from you in months.
I don’t know what is going to happen when I see you in person again. Will we hug? Will it be awkward? Will I need to overcompensate on the affection with Jack to hold myself back? Will we be able to go back to the friendly brother-sister thing we had going on before all of the bullshit?
At least I’ll be starting school at the end of the month so I will be gone for most of the day most of the time. We won’t have hours alone together this time around.
But your presence will still change things.
You have this Alpha Male thing going on where you hold yourself differently with strangers, crowd us and act like the man of the house. The testosterone levels surrounding me go through the roof. The dynamic changes and you and Jack square off way more often than I want to see.
I’m scared. I don’t want to express to you how ashamed and guilty I am. I don’t want to tell you about the terror I feel thinking about having you in my home again. But I also don’t want you to come into this house not knowing how I feel and where I’m at.
I love Jack. I love the life Jack & I are building together. The uber-alpha-male thing you bring into our little bubble changes everything. Last time, it caused problems. It didn’t before that, but those visits were visits with defined ends. And this one is even more open-ended than the last one. But I remember how I felt when we talked that one day. I remember how it felt to feel sexy and attractive enough for you to want me. I remember the fun of the playful flirting and the intensity of some of those conversations. Part of me wants to feel those things again. But I’m terrified too.
And I’m angry.
Angry at the way we all mattered so much for awhile and then you disappeared and stopped caring. Didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t email. Didn’t answer my daughter’s call.
Out of sight, out of mind? Maybe…
But it hurt me. It wasn’t so much the direct slap in my face, as much as it was the slap to Jack and to Beanlet. They care about you too. I can think of a million reasons you didn’t want to stay in touch with me, but my daughter?
Terrified and angry. And you arrive a week from tomorrow.
What am I going to do?