I don’t know what to say…

I can’t even wrap my head around what I heard today, but I’m going to try, so here goes.

I was told today, that when Kevin originally had his accident, there was talk, and I won’t mention who, though I wish I could throttle them both, that I had done it. And by that, I mean they thought I was responsible for Kevin’s accident, that I somehow willingly inflicted a life-threatening injury on him.

Now, I’m all for the odd, dark joke; making them is sometimes preferable to tears and breakdowns but these people…One I don’t think much of just because of their demeanor and the other is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Now, when I come across people I don’t like for one reason or another-or sometimes for no reason at all-I ask myself what it is exactly that I don’t like about them, and more importantly, is that a reflection of them, or of me? Mostly it’s me and I’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t have to like everyone, just as they don’t all have to like me. I think is just a natural occurrence and its ok as long as I remember that not liking someone does give me or anyone else license to be rude or disrespectful towards them.

And I work hard to do that, sometimes more than I want to. But it comes to the same: they still deserve respect even if I don’t like them. That is also a natural occurrence, or it should be.

Now, this person today, I have never liked them. Not 15 years ago when we initially met, not a few years back when I met them again, and definitely not now. I’ve tried to be more than just polite, I’ve tried to engage in conversation with them about their interests, and I just can’t anymore. My main description of them is only something I’ve shared with Kevin and my therapist; to be frank, I find nothing sincere about this person. I used to think it was just me but I’ve been proven wrong by them, on multiple occasions now.

The first time was a few months back when they approached me about a sensitive issue while I was at work. Now, I’m not shy in my emotions and feelings, but I am selective in who I willingly share that with. There is nothing in our history to indicate that I would ever want to share a more in-depth conversation with them about that particular topic. I told them, very firmly, verging on rude, that that topic was not one they should ever approach me about again. They told me they thought the situation was different and I immediately shut that down as well, reiterating that they don’t know the situation and it is not up for discussion, ever.

I also reported that conversation as a means to protect myself and ensure it would not happen again. I may have been more standoffish with this person since then.

But now to learn that they had discussions about whether I intentionally hurt Kevin… I just want to yell at them, put them in their place. Remind them that they have no right to make such an implication let along discuss it like fodder to fill their worthless time.

I don’t need to tell them how broken I felt when all this was happening; they don’t know that I can still hear my bug screaming, see my son’s tears, and watch my pancake try to shake the words, “your father could die,” from her head.

They don’t get to know about the sleepless nights, the endless fears, or about the panic attacks I had. They don’t know I use therapy, breathing techniques, going to the gym, and writing as an outlet for any of that. They don’t know that there are still triggering moments, hard days, and nightmares that still plague me.

They especially don’t know the relationship I have with Kevin or what we mean to each other; they don’t know how many times I shut down platitudes of, “at least you’ll appreciate him more, now,” with I already did. They don’t know the kind of love that Kevin and I share: one that is honest, raw, and worth fighting for, even to live, as Kevin did for me.

They don’t know how deep that connection goes or that when he was under, before he was flown out; cracked open but unconscious under the protective coverings; intubated, and looking every bit the patient that he was in a hospital emergency room that look like a bomb had gone off in it, that Kevin heard me: he responded to my words to fight and stay with me. He moved his feet, and it was like hope had been brought back to life in that room. Everyone there knew it, they felt it. It was tangible.

But this person, they don’t know that, because they don’t know me; they only know of me. Not who I am. I’m selective about that, even more now.

I really wish I could confront this vile person, but I don’t even know that I could say anything that would convey just how callous their words were. I really have no clue how they came to the conclusion that I could ever hurt Kevin, unless they equate my ability to set boundaries gave them the thought…seems like a leap though. It almost feels like showing strength equates to being aggressive.

But let me tell you: I had to walk through fire for that strength. And I’ll keep doing it now, and walk away from this person as well, because at the end of the day, a confrontation is not going to end well; not for me. And they’re also so not worth it.