Mr. Postman, look and see.

Before I get to my next entry, I need to stick this here before I forget to. This is therapy writing and not a story, so there will not be prefacing or order to my entries. This one is from yesterday or the day before, but that only matters to me. Read along if you care to. I’m an open book because I need a friend and that friend is an anonymous diary. No further explanation needed. 

Letter to my baby…

I am going to write you a letter every day in the hope that you will read it and it will help you in some way on the difficult journey you’re currently facing.

They won’t all be proclamations of love, these letters. While it’s true that I love you as much as I love life, I want these words to touch you on a deeper and different level.

Today when you called me, my heart filled with hope and joy. When I heard your voice, a little shaky but clear, and so familiar to my heart, I had to hold back the tears.

My baby, you’re back.

I pray you are slowly on your way back to me. Your body can heal. You are a strong man, and you can fight your way back to health physically. Today you sounded like you are really in the game and trying to stay the course. You sounded so good that my heart lurched in anticipation of rescue from my pain and longing for you.

But this isn’t about my salvation.

It’s about yours. It’s about healing you. It’s about fixing what it is that makes you seek relief from your pain or boredom.

You don’t owe anyone the rest of your life. Not me, not Lori and not Vickie. You deserve to do what makes YOU happy and be with who you want to be with.

Today when I said I am proud of you, you said “don’t be proud yet” and for a minute, I was stunned and didn’t know what to say. I’m pretty sure you noticed my silence.

I was taken aback because it isn’t what you’re trying to do NOW that makes me proud of you. I’ve ALWAYS been proud of you. I have always loved who you are and the fact that you got hung up for a minute when you were down and out emotionally doesn’t erase the years of good treatment you gave me.

What makes me proud of you is ironically, your character. In spite of your sexual proclivities, you’ve worshipped the ground I walked for a decade and a half and I’ve seen a kindness in you that most people cannot emulate, let alone uphold.

I’m proud of you for being a leader. I’m proud of you for going after what you want and persevering until you get it. Tenacity. Loyalty to the cause. A brilliant man whose word is golden and who strived tirelessly to never ever let me suffer or let me down. I am proud of you for loving me so eloquently and thoroughly, for being my hero because I needed one so bad.

I am proud of you for always lifting me up and making me feel as if I was more than beautiful…perfect.

I am proud of you for your giving heart and your hardscrabble fight to be somebody and to have something. I am proud of you for taking risks and being fearless and owning up to problems. I am proud of your God given ability to make beauty out of what other people throw away. I am proud of you for the little things, like integrity in the work you do and the way your beautiful mind charms me with the things you create.

But even superheroes are allowed to stumble and fall. Even golden boys are allowed to struggle and hurt and be unsure of themselves and or their future.

The things you’ve done wrong do not make you who you are.

The way you handle the things you’ve done wrong makes you who you are.

I believe in you.

Not cautiously, but rather with my whole heart and if you fall a hundred times, I will pick you up 101 times.

Forget about what you feel you’ve done wrong.

Don’t stumble over something BEHIND you, because there is nobody there to catch you if you fall.

Just keep moving forward. Don’t look back.

And don’t stop until you’re safely in my arms.