My dearest Gary,

I have struggled with finding the words to write this letter, but further, the will. Words have always been endearing to me, from you, but in general. I recently learned a new word that I had heard but don’t think that I ever really comprehended.
Duplicitous: contradictory doubleness of thought, speech, or action; the belying of one’s true intentions by deceptive words or action
: the quality or state of being double or twofold.
The thing I absolutely love about words is that while everyone uses them every single day, it is in the way that you string them together that allows others to understand a concept. While you can explain something in one way, someone else can explain a different way, simply by the way they string the words together, they can allow the light to seep in the window that is your mind. I’ll give you some examples:
“Rebecca, I’m finished with the marriage, but I’m not finished with you.” I feel certain that you recognize that statement. (No acknowledgement needed.)
“….I regret the marriage, not the relationship.”
“Are you over me?” “I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?”
While I have not always been able to manage my mental illness, nor the consequences of the actions caused by it, I know that you know that I have always loved you. I also know that on some level you feel as though me being unable to acknowledge the problems I was creating or hiding the problems I created was more important to me than our marriage. I truly believed that if I delayed any problem, all problems, it would give me a chance to fix the problem, (the crazy prevented me from knowing, accepting, that I didn’t have the ability to fix them). I have been judged on this thinking for the entirety of this relationship. However, I believe that you have actually accomplished this task. You have managed me for the length of our separation, and I didn’t even realize that it was happening.
I’ve always known that the shadow I would live behind if I married you would be vast. I knew of the influence your mother has in your life. I knew that your sister was the ideal woman. I knew that Heidi was all that was evil in the world according to the three of you. I was sure that I could fit in there somewhere, but I had no chance, from the beginning, I had no chance.
The hardest conversation I’ve ever had about our relationship, was not with you, but with your sister. While the words she chose were hers, the sentiment was most definitely yours. The joy in the voice from the woman by which all women, in your world should be measured, let me know that I had lost any real chance, (if I really had it to begin with) and that she was full of joy that I felt this pain, that I deserved this pain. She made it so completely clear, that if you wanted me there, I would have been there. When enlightened that she only did the things you asked her to do, and in the way that you asked her to do them, including notifying me by text. She was so happy to tell me that you WERE so definitely going to divorce me.
I was stunned, actually, paralyzed. It never once occurred to me that the only reason that we were continuing to pay attention to this relationship was to keep the cost of the divorce as low as possible. It didn’t once occur to me that the reason we weren’t setting fire to the bridge, was so that you and the rest of the Monger’s could have a bonfire at this marriage’s end. It didn’t occur to me that when you said that you never talked to them about our marriage, and you weren’t going to talk to them about our divorce, that that statement would be an out and out lie.
You have spent the whole of this relationship on a mount of morals, pointing out every inadequacy, reminding me that any progress was expected not an achievement. Your words since the separation have been supportive and encouraging, not to mention hopeful, and all of that was an accounting measure to motivate me into believing that taking as little from this marriage, would further prove that I was absolutely trying to not set fire to the bridge. The reality of what I know today is that this omission of facts is clearly a punitive action.
This whole situation has been so extremely painful for me, not only because I have lost the love of my life, but that my own actions and inactions directly lead to this. My pain has come from failing to live up to your expectations of me, but more importantly, that I allowed that to guide and misguide my crazy. My sorrow comes from the weakness in my inability to see and find control measures to handle the crazy. My horror, at this stage of mental health, is a result of both the things I can see that I caused because it wasn’t under control, and the knowledge that I will see more horror as my mental health continues improve.
A wise bald-headed man once told me that people do things for a reason. They get something out of it or they wouldn’t do it. Therapy has taught me many things, but relevant to this topic is that you can trace all mental illness back to its source. I think the reason you have this profound need to sit in judgment, is because you too, were judged so harshly. The only way to deal with feeling inadequate is to judge others without forgiveness, or drink your inadequacies away. I feel that just as your mother sits on her mount and looks down at the world, so do you. When there is something wrong with all the people gathered in your life, you are reassured that you are superior, and while it would be nice to have someone you love to sit with you on the mountain, no one can ever really measure up, or at least not for long. There is a reason that none of you have lasting relationships, except for your parents, likely they weren’t judged so harshly.
I know that when separation between us began, the relationship was tantamount to a rickety swinging bridge in bad need of repair. So scary for me, my whole life I’ve ran from construction projects. I never once practiced any skill that would lead to a solid foundation. However, after the separation, I acquired a variety of tools, to include, but not limited to, medication, several kinds of therapy, exercise, a job, and finally (and likely most importantly) focus. I found unsure footing, but kept walking, feeling encouraged by your “new found” emotional support. Having said that, I’m at a point on the bridge, where I can see you on the other side, encouraging me to come further, but holding a torch. Your family all around you encouraging you to drop the torch on the bridge so they can watch the bonfire.
I know that even if my words touch anything in you, you can’t come back to me. Your pride would never allow it, nor would your family.
I love you. I don’t think I love you, I know that I do. I don’t know where you are in this whole thing, and this point, I’m not sure that it really matters, does it? I think that the logical, rational, linear-thinking thing for me to do is to move from relationship preservation to self-preservation.
I hope your injuries heal more quickly than my heart.
Always, Rebecca