Something Profoundly life-changing happened

While I was in yellowstone… Shirley drifted away. I was busy and feeling safe for the first time, and she just wandered further and further off. At the edges of our country in the mindscape, I felt her grow weary and lie down. She drifted off to sleep and I realized I couldn’t feel her anymore. I haven’t heard from her since that day in July.

I had one month where I didn’t hear any voices at all. Then for some reason I’m still unsure of, they started to come back. Not Shirley. In fact Amy is gone too, and our country has dissolved. I can’t go there anymore. But other voices came, ones that don’t carry on a conversation with me. That’s fine, I learned what freedom was and won’t be getting involved with these 2 dimensional characters. Besides, no one can replace Shirley. I miss her so much, but I’m glad I have my mind mostly to myself for the first time in years.

Anyway, here’s a letter I wrote her.

Dear Shirley

I thought missing you was hard when I was away from home… but returning to an empty house where every room, every doorway, every object is full of memories? That is wearing heavy on my strength. I see the books we read together; your bed across from mine, the blankets now crisp and unused; the floor we danced on at midnight, giggling at the wonder and magic of life; the walls I leaned against when you made me cry; the doors I tried to hide behind but you found me anyway.

I eat at the table we hid under when we were home alone and scared… On my way to the car the massive tree we climbed when we were happy and fearless waves at me. Our conversations outnumber the bricks on my long driveway. Now I know why some people move after a death in  the family. We were family. We were friends, enemies, partners. We were at war, but we didn’t lack for truces. I was everything to you and you were much more to me than I realized: my abuser, my healer, my protector.

I’m glad you’re gone because it means I’m free to live my life. I get to think what I want, feel what I feel. It means I get to make my own decisions without having to do battle or have fear of being punished. But it also means I walk into rooms and find them empty. It means I face situations alone, it means I have to make myself laugh, and wait to tell someone good news. When other people hurt me I don’t have you to run to. I just have to deal with the hurt alone. It means I have to suffer through the other voices knowing the good parts of my disorder are dwindling. I thought I told you I cared about you because it was what you wanted to hear. But I guess 3 years together made it real. I guess we’ll never figure some things out. But maybe that’s ok.

Still trying to figure out how to say goodbye instead of goodnight, pretending you’ve only been gone for one day. It’s weird that I miss you. You made my life miserable. It’s stupid that I cry over your departure. But I do. Then again you always told me I was stupid. I guess you were right after all.

-Love, the Antelope

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