Dear you,
I hate you. I hate everything about you. I wish that you had never come into my life; that I had never learned your name. I hate everything you have done to me, and everything that you continue to do to me. I hate the fact that I can’t go more than a few minutes without thinking about you and the way you affect my life.
I hate the fact that when I wake up in the middle of the night, you’re the first thing I think about. I hate that I can’t get up and go to the bathroom, or get a drink of water, or do anything without first worrying about you and taking care of you. I have to tend to your needs before I can tend to my own, and I hate that. I feel like I am your servant; that you are the true master of my life and I exist only to serve you, like I’m your host or something. You’re like a parasite that steals my energy, my strength, my willpower. You take everything away from me, and give me nothing in return.
I hate that you make everything so difficult, so complicated. Things which should be easy, painless, or carefree become huge dramatic problems to solve because of you. Something so simple as meeting friends for lunch or going to a concert become huge ordeals because of you. I have to call ahead. Make sure there are accommodations. Make sure that you will be accepted, that there is a place for you. Make sure that there won’t be any obstacles or barriers that will have to be overcome. And if there are some barriers, then I have to negotiate on your behalf. I have to find solutions, make compromises, settle for less than what I really wanted, because that is what you demand. Always I have to settle for less than what I really want, because of you.
I hate that people treat me differently because of you. I hate the cute girls who are into me until they find out about you, and then it changes to oh, so sorry, I have to wash my hair or I’m just not looking for a relationship right now or some other inane bullshit that they say when what they really mean is that they like me, but they just can’t deal with you. I’m not worth their time because of you. What will their mother say? What will Daddy say? It’s just too much trouble, sorry.
And really, that’s it. It’s just too much trouble, sorry. Gee, Jay, we’d love for you to come with us, but you know, there’s stairs, and you wouldn’t be able to see anyway, so maybe next time, ok? Well, the concert’s gonna be out on the lawn, and I just don’t think that we can get the chair down there, so maybe next time, ok? The kids are playing soccer, and I want to go, but it’ll be too much trouble to get you down there, so why don’t you just sit here and wait in the car? I’ll only be a little while. The club has two levels, and only stairs between them, so I don’t think you’d have much fun. Well, I wish you could go with us, but there’s not enough space in the car for all of us…
And then it gets worse.
Oh you’re so brave! I really admire your strength and your determination! You’re truly an inspiration to all of us! Those, and ten-thousand other pieces of inane bullshit that people say to me, simply because of you. I am brave, and strong, and determined, but not because of you. I am those things because of me, because of who I am, and how I was raised. It has nothing at all to do with you, but people insist on giving you the credit. Like without you, I’d be some craven coward. I hate you because people think you can be a source of strength. You’re not. You’re a source of weakness and frustration. My depression, my self-doubt, and my insecurities all come from you. You take away my strength, and you replace it with fear. I hate you for that, and I hate it when people tell me that I should be thankful for you.
People tell me that I have to learn to accept you, that I have to learn to love you. Because you are a part of me, and because I’m not fully loving myself until I love you, too. People tell me that I’m not worthy of being loved, because I can’t bring myself to love you. You can’t expect to find love until you love yourself. But how can I love myself, when I know that you are inside me, and will always be a part of me? You, who have shown me throughout my life that I am not good enough, not strong enough, not important enough to be loved…or even accepted. You who have robbed me of so many chances for happiness, you who have taken so much away from me, and given me nothing in return.
I hate you, Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease. I wish I had never learned your name.
Jay