An Open Letter to Someone Who Will Probably Never See This

 I really just have one question:

Why?

Why did you do it? What did I ever do to you that was so awful that I deserved the deliberate and complete betrayal, sabotage, and destruction you wreaked on my life?

I will never understand the kind of person who can be so disingenuous. We were friends. We chatted every day. We had inside jokes. We shared looks. We knew each other's business. Our families knew each other.

And then you changed. Why? For what? To what end? 

Do you know that you took the only family that's stuck with me unconditionally for the past 20 years away from me? You already knew I was suicidal. Do you know how many times I *actively* tried to drink myself to death for the next 3 months? Do you know how many hours of therapy I've been to, and how much medication I'm on just to be able to function as a human being?

Do you even care? Do you have any empathy in your heart for me at all? Did you ever? Or was I always just a patsy? A means to an end?

You want to talk about lying and triangulation. I STILL don't know what you said. But whatever it was, it took my life's work away from me, and now, because you bullied me out of it (with help), I can't go back (because of said help). 

I don't understand, and I will never understand what happened. And I'm coming to terms with that.

So it's time for me to let go. This anger, this betrayal, this deception, this grief, it was never mine. I don't want it. I don't claim it. I won't hold it, and I won't hide it. This all belongs to you. I place it at your feet to rot and fester until you decide to do the work to get the help you need so that you never treat another person like this again. 

And so I forgive you. One of the things I've learned about forgiveness, is that it's not about accepting poor behavior, or excusing it, or even declaring it to be in the past and over. It's about letting go of the anger so that you can move past it. So I don't forgive you because you deserve it, because you most certainly do not. I forgive you because *I* deserve it.

I never deserved the way you treated me, the lies you told, the friends you poisoned, the conversations you obfuscated and manipulated, or the half-truths you elicited from others in order to paint a portrait of me so unrecognizable it may as well have been someone else. I never deserved the assumptions on your part (or anyone's for that matter) that just because YOU would have felt or acted a certain way, that I did. I never deserved the pain, the grief, the sleepless nights, the hospitalizations, and the months of my life I lost because of how deeply you shattered my psyche. 

So I'm letting it go. And because you made it, like a little lost dog returning to its owner, I know it will find it's way back to you. I would say that I wish you joy of it, but I don't. I hope you experience it until it causes you to be better, learn better, and do better. And when you get there, don't bother trying to apologize. The only apology I need from you is to fade out of my life completely and never treat another soul this way again.

Shadow

My deepest fear, my dearest dread
It doesn't live under the bed
Or in the closet, no instead
its residence is in my head
That monster that is me

It tells me that I'm all alone

To old for help, but still not grown

And when I try to fight I'm shown

The sharpest shame I've ever known

By the monster that is me

It tells me I'm unlovable

A monster unrecov'rable

A puny thing, so shoveable

Too dark for up above, a full-

-on mosnter, that is me.

And knowing it's lying doesn't deaden its claws

Or dullen the fangs that extend from its jaws

It knows where to scratch, where to hurt, where to bite

It knows how to drain me of all will to fight

Cause the monster that hates me, that tries to sedate me

That causes irate me, that never escapes me

That monster, that monster, the thing that most hates me

 

That horrible monster is me. 

Art by Reddit User TallulahDankhead and available here

To My Five-Year-Old Daughter

 To My Five-Year-Old Daughter,

As I look over at your sweetly sleeping face, I know that the world you enter now is one that is filled with challenges and hardships. Your right to do what you wish, how you wish, and with whom you wish stands on a very tenuous knife’s edge, and I hope that I and the rest of your grown-ups can help leave the world a little better than we found it.

But those are not things I can control here and now, from this desk. What I can control in this moment is what little wisdom I have gained, and what I desperately wish to impart to you throughout your childhood.

Never forget that you are special, beautiful, and powerful. You are special, just as every heart who has ever danced on this plane is unique and remarkable. You are beautiful, because you love with every fibre of your being and share the deepest truths within your soul. And you are powerful, innately, truly, and deeply, simply by the virtue of knowing and accepting the simplicity of that truth. Your power comes from believing in you.

Some will resent your sparkle. Sparkle anyway.

Some will betray your trust. Trust anyway.

Some will doubt your intentions. Be true to them anyway.

Some will try to hurt you. And some will even succeed.

But know this: the way others treat you has so much more to do with them than with you. You are your own incredible self, and others’ failure to grasp your true nature, as painful as it may be for you, is nothing compared to the tragedy they live of never seeing you for the amazing and delightful light that you are, and which you bring to the world.

Know also, that you have brought me a deeper love than I ever thought I could experience. Every laugh that peels is a thousand hugs, every smile that beams is a million sunsets, and hearing you joyously shout “Mommyyyyy” when you see me at the end of a long day heals wounds I didn’t even know I had.

You are getting older now, and this was in no way authorized by me. You no longer need me to help you dress, or eat, or do any of the million things people do in a day. But to me, you will always be the tiny newborn the nurse placed on my chest, straining her neck to meet my gaze. Even as you grow ever so taller and more independent, there will always be a place in my arms, a spot in my lap, and a kiss on any part of your face you’ll let me catch you with. Sleep well, my angel. The world is waiting for you. -Your Mother

In Defense of Robin Scherbatsky

 TL;DR - she was mistreated by every man in her life, including those on the show, and comes by her closed-off nature and wariness of emotional connection or being "tied down" honestly.

The more times I re-watch How I Met Your Mother, the worse opinions I have of everyone on the show except for Robin.

Ted is determined to find his Manic Pixie Dreamgirl, and will shoehorn any woman unfortunate enough to date him into that role, whether it fits her or not. Every serious relationship we see of his except for Tracey starts with a "No." Robin. Victoria. Robin again. Stella. Natalie. Rachel Bilson's character whose name escapes me. Victoria again. He's basically JD with less homophobia and transphobia.

Barney... well. Go look up Rape By Proxy, and realize that that is what The Playbook is. Yes, he grows. But not until the VERY LAST EPISODE and even then, we don't know if that sticks.

Marshall holds everyone, himself included, to impossibly high standards for ethics and morality, and leaves absolutely no space for nuance or ethical ambiguity. He's unhappy when he's making lots of money because he thinks his employers are unethical. He's unhappy when he's working for the NRDC because he doesn't think the man he's idolized his entire career is doing enough. He's unhappy that his wife and his mother don't get along, when his mother is TRULY AWFUL to Lily.

Lily is irretrievably self-involved. I can't marry Marshall, I have to be an artist. I have an amazing husband and we live a comfortable life, but I want to be an artist. Let me put myself into tens of thousands of dollars of credit card debt so I can wear designer clothing on a Preschool Teacher's salary. Let's uproot my entire family, give up the life and friendships I've created, and deny my husband his dream job so I can be an artist.

And then there's Robin. Struggling newscaster who just wants to do something important with her life. Willing to uproot herself multiple times in pursuit of her dreams. Of course she doesn't want to be tied down, she's not selfish enough to want to force someone to move around the world with her. Ted lies to her to get her to come to a party, tells her he's in love with her on the first date, then basically wears her down until she agrees to date him, only to find out he hadn't actually broken up with his girlfriend first. 

First time around, Barney lacks anything resembling the kind of emotional maturity to be in a relationship. To be fair, so does she. But when they break up, Barney is incredibly insensitive, and the gang follows suit. And when they finally do end up together, because they boomerang even more than she and Ted do, despite being so confident he just wants her, he can't stand not being the one in the relationship with all the power.

Don. Starts off by being incredibly disrespectful. Continues to do so by inviting her to a "Party" and trying to pull of The Naked Man, and then criticizes any woman who would fall for it (and yet he wanted her to fall for it?). Isolates her from her friends because he can't deal with the fact that (spoiler alert) SOME PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY REMAIN FRIENDS WITH THEIR EXES (hi, Claire, nice to meet you), and then takes the job that SHE TURNED DOWN because she wanted to be around him, breaking up with her and moving out of the city. Man I hate that guy.

And we're not even going to start on Robin's dad. You can't be abusive and detached for your kid's entire life and then decide once they're 30 that they're you're drinking buddy. Okay, I guess we did start.

Anyway. I can tell that the writers want to paint Robin as this closed-off career-focus woman who just needs to let herself be vulnerable, but every time she does, she gets totally screwed over.

So yeah, I can see that they were always angling toward Robin and Ted getting together at the end of the show. But for her sake, I kind of wish they didn't.

Gluten-Free Pumpkin Gnocchi

Recipe Tags: Gluten Free, Fall, Pumpkin, Italian, Easy, Vegetarian, Vegan

Start to Nom: 30 Minutes active cooking

Needed: Oven, Stove, Large Stockpot, Baking Sheet, Mixing Bowl, Tongs, Slotted Spoon, Flat Turner

Serves: Up to 4

Ingredients:

2 cups Pumpkin Purree (fresh or canned)

1.5 cups Instant Mashed Potatoes

1.5 cups Gluten Free Flour (any kind)

1 tsp caradamom

0.5 tsp ground clove

1 tsp garlic powder

1 tsp salt

1. Fill stockpot with water and set on high to bring to rolling boil. Set oven broiler on to Low.

2. Combine all ingredients except Pumpkin in large mixing bowl. A whisk works well.

3. Add pumpkin and hand mix until items are well combined into soft, rather dry dough.

4. Hand roll cherry tomato-sized pieces of dough into oblong pieces, roughly 1" by 1/3" inch, and arrange with at least 1" between pieces on baking sheet.

5. Use the tines of a fork to flatten each gnocchi and give it the signature shape.

6. Broil 5-10 minutes on top rack of oven to dry. Do not over broil or toast, this is merely to dry the gnocchi so they don't fall apart in the water.

7. When gnocchi are warm to the touch and the tops look dry, drop each piece one-by-one into rolling boil in small batches. These gnocchi do not double in size as with plain potato gnocchi. You will know they are done when they float to the edges of the pot and sit calmly instead of turning over in the boiling water. It typically takes 3-5 minutes. It's difficult to over-cook them, but disastrous to under cook them, so test one to get the timing right.

8. Remove gnocchi from pot and place on plate or bowl to cool. Top with your favorite sauce and serve immediately. I used marinara in the picture, which I do not recommend because it overpowers the pumpkin. 

Masochistic Omphaloskepsis

A piece on trying to work through emotional turmoil as a writer in a Facebook-heavy world.

Delving into pain, caused by examination of thoughts resulting from a previous injury. A falling out with a… not a friend. Friends don’t abuse you. A person.

Ding! Notification - who is it? Someone who cares? Momentary validation? Antiseptic for the pain my head? Distraction from the cause of my pain?

No, stick with it, Broderick. Delve deep. Deep down. Why did it hurt when they said you were worthless? What was it about being mistreated that made you feel this way? These incisions can’t be fully healed, look, I see a suture still inside the emotional scar tissue, let’s pull.

Ding! Notification.Who is it? Someone with relief? Something funny? Antiseptic to help me pick apart my badly healed scabs. That’s never gonna heal if you don’t stop picking…

So let’s pick some more. Delve. Artists need pain to fuel themselves, right? The great Trent Reznor, writing his opus in his bathtub. I hurt myself today and every day, and I already know I can feel but I want to know how much. How much childhood trauma can I lift up if I just pick right here.

Ding! Notification. Who is it? Some asshole telling me I’m wrong on the internet. No, buddy. YOU’RE wrong on the internet, and here’s a list of reasons why. I’m the queen of the takedown, the ultimate troll, I’m such an intellectual badass, I’m…

God I’m so awful. Why do I do that? Why do I get so worked up fighting with strangers I’ll never have coffee with to apologize for what a bitch I was.  

Stick with it, Broderick. Deep deep delving. Self loathing, that’s the place we need to go. That’s where the real trauma is. You’re fat now? Hey, weren’t you fat before? Didn’t your first boyfriend call you fat? And your dance teacher? And your father? Fat. Fat fat fatty. No self-respect. No self-control. How could I ever be a good mother?

Ding! Notification. Who is it? Nobody. An event coming up that I can’t go to because I’m 1500 miles away. The invitation is enough, though. Totally. You know I would be there if I lived closer. I definitely wouldn’t make an excuse to stay home and pick at these scars.

Delve.

Ding.

Delve.

Ding.

There’s got to be something better. I’d find out what it is, but while I was typing and editing this, I got two, make that three, no now four notifications, and I have to go.

Eating Crackers

Before we begin, allow me to show you this picture so the first image in a share isn't something with profanity in it!:

The Girlchild and I had a great conversation about popularity, perception, and other people's opinions on the way to her summer program today. She started by talking about how the people in her new school weren't always the warmest to her because what they thought of her, and I introduced the Crackers Phenomenon.

You may be familiar with this idea, but in case you're not, here's a handy JPEG:

The version I gave to her had much gentler language, but she definitely got the gist. And then she asked if I ever ate crackers. And I sighed.

There's a person who decided I was absolutely, 100% out for her blood. I dated some people in her life and I also took a job where she had once worked, and in her mind, these were indications that I hated her and was trying to destroy her. Thing was, until I learned this through mutual friends, she wasn't even a blip on my radar.

Now, of course, I hate that someone thinks these things of me, and so when my girl asked if I ever ate crackers, I had to be honest. I gave her a very watered-down version, and we had a great talk about how perception is everything. We even got a handy-dandy case of mistaken identity in drivers on the road to drive the point home.

Flash forward to the end of the day, and she's helping me out in the classroom, and one of my students asks "Miss Claire, do you eat crackers?"

I look straight at my girl and say, "All the time."