Brave Enough To Be Bliss

message into that chapter after an email I sent to John back in 2021 telling him I had to stop accepting the bare minimum from him.

Was my behavior the definition of insanity we hear about…doing the same thing, expecting different results? Yes. Was it human. Also, yes.

Yes, my behavior was human for an unhealed person who just so badly wanted to be loved and couldn’t see the insanity…yet.

As I’ve read back through the emails while writing this book, I’ve come to realize that most of the time, it was just the way I processed through hard things in my mind. It was like he was a one-way pen pal who only listened. Similar to how he used to verbally express himself and I would only quietly listen. It was easy to say whatever I wanted to say because 95% of the time, he wasn’t going to respond. In eight years, I can think of maybe five times he responded. Not sure if the percentage is correct, but the point is, it was a safe bet I could say about anything and wouldn’t hear back. And most of all, my innermost thoughts were safe with him. So sometimes it would be months in between messages and then I would have a flurry of thoughts and send several messages within a short period of time and then nothing again for a while. I did think about writing my thoughts in a journal or just sending emails to myself instead of him, and sometimes I tried, but it wasn’t ever the same. The writing wasn’t as raw, as real …it just didn’t feel the same as when I wrote to him, so I wouldn’t do it unless it was to him. When I wrote to John , I could share things that I wouldn’t have shared with myself at that time. Sometimes I thought it was because he needed to hear them, or I told myself that because I could do really hard things if I thought it would help someone else, but I couldn’t alwa ys do those really hard things just for me. I felt he was worth anything, but I didn’t think I was at that time. There were a few times when I allowed fear and control to lead, but the vast majority of the time when I wrote to him the difference was, it came from the very depths of my heart and soul. I wanted to give him the best parts of me. Sure, he could have the parts of me that were ruined at 17, but the only parts that mattered to me were my heart and soul because they were still pure and lovely, and those parts of me had never been fully known or touched by any man. I was giving him the very best of me in the only way I knew how at that time. And after I wrote that, the epiphany came to me, and I sent the following email to John. I just figured out how to properly articulate just how meaningful to me the words were that I gave to you. And in doing so, believe I now understand the insanity of my behavior. There was nothing more meaningful to me than my words. My words were sacred, tightly held, only to be shared with someone I trusted and loved deeply. I didn't feel I had anything to offer you that was worthy of what you were giving me because I thought I was a used-up piece of trash no one would want. But the rapist didn't reach my heart and soul when he defiled my body, so what was in there, I kept firm control of never wanting to lose those parts of me I felt were still worthy of being loved. So sure, you could have my body, but it wasn't special and worthy of a love like yours. Through my words, I was giving you something so much more meaningful to me, so much more worthy of you . I gave you the very best I had to offer, not thinking that perhaps my words were meaningless to you, and something else would have spoken to you more deeply. I was giving you the most meaningful thing to me and perhaps you were giving me the most meaningful thing to you . We were just speaking different languages. I didn't know what your language meant to you, and you didn't know what my language meant to me so our efforts to communicate failed because we were not fluent in the other's language. The insanity was continuing to try to communicate in my own language when you clearly weren't fluent and vice versa. When I finally realized in the text that your desire for me to say no to sex was about you, not me, then it all started making sense and led to this epiphany now. All this time, we have been begging the other to understand our language but were still speaking it in our own language without the other one being fluent. So, it was like talking a wall, two ships passing in the night, etc.

Yesterday morning, I read the sext conversation we had and felt nothing. At first, I wasn't sure what to think, but I understand now. Without the verbal expression of feelings, that doesn't do anything for me anymore. At the time, I had made up in my mind those

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