dopecoffeehideout

[dopecoffeehideout]

The thing with you that I can't get out of my mind is how disappointing you are.

A letdown.

An annoyance.

Something in my past that is an occasional nostalgic reflection but is increasingly becoming a remorseful memory.

A part of me is mad at myself for not seeing what I do now. For all the years we got on. For all the judgment we passed. For all the unkind moments we shared about other people. How delusional we were at times. I look back on it all and have a hard time saying you're a good person--that I was a good person when I was your friend. And maybe you're unable to be friends with who I am now because you'd have to call yourself a bad person. Because I looked in the mirror and weathered the storms, I went through the painful growth to see I hadn't been a good person or friend, and I changed.

This isn't a disparaging tale. I don't spend my time tearing you down, and I don't fill empty moments with negativity about you, but the nostalgia is fading, and I'm left with the reality that you were never a good person—that I wasn't a good person when you knew me. The people you surround yourself with and defend aren't good either, and maybe you couldn't get over that because you know it. Maybe you were as defensive as you were when I touched on that because you knew it and weren't and aren't ready to address it.

I look back now and am ashamed of who I was when I knew you. I'm ashamed of the person I was around you and around them. I don't see that version of myself anymore and I will never be that version of myself again.

I guess I regret you. I regret showing you who I am now because you didn't want me. I regret oversharing with the hope of you being able to understand where I stand now because you rejected all of it. You showed me again that you didn't change—that you can't change. And I'm left with regret, anger, and even disdain for you.

The nostalgia faded, and I was left with anger. You were such a part of my life, and then you just weren't anymore. And that's it.

That's it.

#chelsea #friendship

[dopecoffeehideout]

It took me years to get here and I thought it'd be easier.

I beat myself up about it when I let my mind wander. I victim blamed myself because of everything and it was so easy to do it. I let it get under my skin and fester. I ignored it and rationalized it, but I just wasn't kinder to myself. I should have been kinder to myself through all of this.

There will never be a day where I forgive you. There will never be a day where I let anyone convince me I need to forgive you. Because forgiveness isn't necessary to accept what you did. I don't need to forgive you to move on and we shouldn't tell anyone who has been abused or traumatized to forgive the person who did them wrong.

But I don't think I'll ever understand why you did it.

It was a matter of wrong and right, and you disregarded it. You disregarded all of us. You countlessly disregarded my mother while she was your wife and you continued you do it when she wasn't. You just really had to think you would get away with all of it. That you could choose to do wrong when it was crystal clear and manipulate all of us one more time.

I didn't realize how bad it was until I went to leave. I didn't understand the depths of it all until I was removed from you and had a separate and safe life from you. And it didn't end there, which showed me just how sick of a person you are. Because I don't think you're able to change and will always rely on manipulating people and instilling fear in people to get what you want.

It took me years to talk about my father this way. Because how can a father do something like that? How could my father do something like that to me? And the answer is that you did it easily. You did the exact thing to my mother all those years ago. You thought you could do the exact thing to me and get away with it one more time. And you almost did, but I was loud enough this time to show everyone who you were. And you make mistakes that were too big to be ignored because we were smarter than you this time. And I just let you make those mistakes so I could show the people I needed to without having to do anything.

I didn't realize how abusive, controlling, manipulative, and violent you were until I got here.

That alone is why I will never forgive you.

That alone is why I will never let anyone try to convince me that I need to forgive you.

You did something unforgivable and it cost you everything.

#thoughts #dad

[dopecoffeehideout]

I really thought it would all dissipate. The clouds would phase into nothingness, and the sun would shine, but it hasn't been that way for me. It's been partly sunny skies and rain. And when the rain comes, it doesn't drench me as much as it used to, but it's still cold on my skin. I still feel it in my bones.

I think you'll always be a part of my life, and that's a deep sorrow. Because I have nothing but hate and resentment for you, and there isn't anything else to let go of without stripping myself of myself. There isn't forgiveness to be given anymore because what you did to me is unforgivable. We don't talk about what trauma looks like, and we don't talk about the damage that lingers. We don't talk about when someone hurts you in a way that leaves you deeply wounded for the rest of your life. Because if we did, we wouldn't be offering forgiveness as a solution for the pain.

It's not a comforting blanket to know a person's actions reflect on themselves. It's not soothing to be told you're stronger than that person. At the end of the day, there aren't silver linings for trauma, but shallow sentiments offered as an attempt to heal--and they all fall short. Because people aren't complex creatures and people sometimes do horrible things because they're just horrible. And you're left with this suffocating struggle of moving on yet feeling stuck at the same time.

I will never forgive you for what you did to me. I will never make light of what I went through because of you because it was abuse. You manipulated your own family against each other. You selfishly tried to hurt me due to your own shortcomings. And when I finally had enough--when I finally was ready to leave--you tried to ruin me.

You tried to ruin me, and I will never fucking forgive you.

[dopecoffeehideout]

I think about you more than I want to. I wonder what it'd be like to reach out after all the time that's passed. I wonder what it'll be like when even more time passes. I fight myself on what to do because I wouldn't be thinking of you if our book was complete.

I've handled loss and I've handled grief. I've grieved. I've been grieving what I've lost. Versions of myself. My father. The remaining innocence that I had in the form of a single sliver of belief in good--the good people innately have. I grieved it all, including you, but you still cross my mind.

I just still have no idea how to be friends with you now. I don't know what it will look like, what it will feel like, or what it will be like.

But I know I don't think about the other things I grieved the way I do you.

[dopecoffeehideout]

Pensive

I used to want for everything. Blindly insatiable. Maybe woefully ignorant. Self-preserving even. I don't really know if I'm honest. And I thought I did because I put myself in therapy and showed up monthly. But maybe even that was self-serving.

I find myself wanting inner peace above all else lately. I want to be a summer breeze. A rolling ocean wave. That first snowflake that falls. The color change in the leaves signaling fall. The sound of crickets at night. I want to be all the things I find peaceful in the world.

I lost more than I ever anticipated I'd lose. I was naive when it came to it. I expected too much--I always do. That'll always be my downfall.

My weakness.

My Achilles heel.

Through it all, I've learned I don't want to be any other way. I lost almost everything because of it and it took so much time to learn what peace with it would look like. I'm still learning what peace around that will look like, but I get closer every day.

It taught me I'm my own hero. It taught me to stop doubting myself. It taught me that the internal voice I've had all along needed to be told to shut up because it was wrong.

I was strong enough.

I was smart enough.

I was good enough.

I was enough.

I learned being alone isn't a bad thing. I learned that sometimes it's better to be alone because being alone means you can heal. Being alone means you can rebuild. You get to find yourself again. And maybe there are people who are lucky to never lose themselves in the first place, but I didn't have that fortune. I would lose myself multiple times in my life. Sometimes multiple times in a day. The anger would make me unrecognizable and I'd refind myself once it subsided. And I'd truly find myself once I wasn't angry anymore.

I lost more than I anticipated. I carry that with me and it's heavy at times. I sometimes wish I didn't go through what I did--that if I could go back in time, I'd avoid these outcomes. But I know that's just fantasy. I know that's not how life works.

I miss the old me at times. My old life. But it was never mine to keep. It wasn't who I was. It was a placeholder--a stepping stone--a lesson learned.

I learned my lesson and I just want peace now.

#thoughts #healing #feelings

[dopecoffeehideout]

I hope you have  the courage to forgive all the people  that never asked for  forgiveness.

[dopecoffeehideout]

My therapist would tell me as if she was a broken record hitting that knick in the vinyl that I could create my life however I wanted it to look. She’d easily throw it into the space between us as if I was like taking a breath. I struggled understanding how to do that and what she meant because my life was already my life. There wasn’t anything to change, remove, or add.

It wasn’t until I left and cut him out that I understood. And the part that I wish she told me about is how difficult it is to leave. To leave a life you were a part of for ten years. To leave behind a family member. To leave behind a friend. To leave your old self behind. And the grieving that comes from all of it. 

It has not been easy. Part of it is my own fault because I thought it would be. That it’d be this linear path to feeling better, but forgiveness isn’t linear. Growth isn’t linear. It’s fluid and ever changing and will punch you in the gut and steal the air from your lungs when you least expect it. I unexpectedly find myself with an anger I thought I put to rest when I left. The sadness comes when I’m leaning over the kitchen sink doing the dishes. And I don’t find myself fighting as much to let these feelings resurface, but I can’t say I enjoy it. It’s not as severe and it’s much more infrequent, but occasionally, there are days where it feels like a small step backwards. 

She was right in the belief that I can define my life however I want to, but I wish she warned me how difficult it would be. There’s a lot I feel alone with because of it. There are parts I can’t talk about with the people I should be able to because of a difference in view. It’s almost like it never happened with my brother and I think I’ll always have that deep desire to find a way in showing the pain I have because of our dad. I think I’ll always have a bewilderment around why I wasn’t believed in totality. 

I know I’ll always have this anger. I know it’s a silent burden. But I’m learning to live with it. I’m learning how to give it its own space in my body without it encroaching my overall peace. I’ll always hate him. I’ll always hate what he did. And I’ll always feel like punching him in the face if I ever see him. 

I don’t know that I can forgive him. 

I don’t know that I want to. 

#dad #thoughts

[dopecoffeehideout]

The part I don’t think I’ll ever come to terms with is how you’re expected to live after something bad happens. We get a few weeks to a few months to grieve and process and move on and then people expect you to bounce back. To be who you were before the change. Because that’s healthy and normal and just a part of life. And I’ve been waiting and waiting for that to happen and I just think it’s bullshit. 

I think there are things some of us go through that just break us. We become different people. The change in life ended up changing us because sometimes how can it not. And you’re made to feel like you’re broken or wrong for not being able to bounce back. To fit it in the box and put it on a shelf. But I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t think that’s true. Because I think sometimes, a thing is too big to put in the box. To not let it alter you to your core. 

I think the past haunts a lot of people. I know mine does. It lurks out of my peripheral. It shows up unannounced even after I talk about it like it fits in that box. Because I think I convince myself it’s in the box and maybe it is for the most time. Maybe the box doesn’t contain all of it, but enough of it to move on. And maybe it’s a part of life to feel the ghostly grip the past has on you when you’ve run from something. Maybe it’s self preservation to not go back. But I don’t think it’s fair to expect everyone to bounce back from a bad thing. Because sometimes bad things are worse than others and it’s unfair to people to think they need to move on all the way. 

[dopecoffeehideout]

My dad used to yell at me and somewhere along the way I just accepted that. 

It became normal. It became a cycle and we all know that word is usually followed with “of abuse,” except I didn’t know to call it that until much later. There are people with terrible parents who create something beautiful from it. Who gather around a table and can reminisce about times where dad had redeeming moments. They can break bread and laugh and cry because it brought them together. But that’s not me. That’s not us. And we don’t get a beautiful ending to it. 

I’ve learned that I’ll be alone with this. That people will sympathize the best they can, but most of them won’t understand it. Because I made myself small during it. I carved out a small spot to fit in through all of it and became compliant. I let those waves erode parts of me I didn’t know I lost. And now I’m standing on the cliff of a once beautiful beach taking in the damage, wondering how to rebuild. Wondering if it can be rebuilt. Wondering what there is to rebuild. 

The part of me that scares me is the one that tells me it’s unsalvageable. It’s about pivoting the view now. And that’s just what I’ll do. 

I let myself be in that situation for too long. I was weak and stupid at times and I’m just exhausted by the sympathy because I was weak and I was stupid. Because I let myself be in it. I let myself stay in that small hole I I carved out. I put up with the yelling and the fear and the horrible ways he made me feel. I put up with family not helping. I put up with all of it and more and that’s why I was weak. That’s why I was stupid. And it’s not beautiful. 

None of it was beautiful. None of it will be beautiful. I don’t want to be told that despite what I went through, I ended up creating a beautiful life with a beautiful family. Because it’s just not true. 

It was ugly. It was nothing but ugly. There were days where I couldn’t get out of bed. There were panic attacks that suffocated me. There were so many times where I didn’t feel safe and it is the scariest thing to feel unsafe in your own home. Because of your own family. And it just was not fucking beautiful. 

#dad

[dopecoffeehideout]

She always told me I was consumed by my anger. It was the cause of my quick fuse and why I was aggravated by trivial things. But I’d been so accustomed to it by that point that I didn’t hear her. I didn’t hear the concern in her voice. I didn’t hear the worry or her genuine desire to want to help me with it. Because maybe I didn’t know I needed help with it. Maybe I didn’t even know how bad it was until it was gone. 

I never thought I’d get to a place in my life where I’d be able to become soft again. Or that I’d even want to. My fabric became woven with coldness and it became a majority of who I was. I never understood why I was exhausted all the time because there was never a moment where I wasn’t on the defensive. That hair on the back of the neck sensation was never off for me, so it felt impossible to change. I didn’t think I could change. That I’d even want to change. But just like spring, I felt myself bloom again for the first time. 

I feel like a different person because I am a different person. It’s strange to feel at peace and I find the ice that’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember melting. I find myself wanting to be softer. I don’t feel the need to be abrasive to have enough distance from people to have an escape plan. I don’t feel a need for a constant escape plan. 

I don’t know the person I’m becoming, but I’m excited to find who he is. 

#growth #spring

[dopecoffeehideout]

[dopecoffeehideout]

I never feared screaming at a room of people. I never had a problem with using my loudness. It always came so easily. It was always just below the surface waiting and when it had a single moment to ignite, it did. The flames would soar with the abundance of oxygen around me and they’d burn into everyone and everything, including myself. I became familiarized with my charred appearance. Damaged. Rough around the edges. But alive. 

The moment I accepted my father didn’t care about me changed everything. When you learn a person doesn’t care about anything, it changes everything. Because when a person doesn’t even care about themself, it’s impossible for that person to care about anyone else. And my father never cared about himself. 

He never cared about my mother. He never cared about my brother. He never cared about me. Because he doesn’t care about himself. And it gives you such a difficult perspective to figure out how to fit into the box people expect you to fit it in. Because it isn’t casual conversations of small talk. It isn’t light banter. It’s heavy and it’s ugly and it’ll strangle you if you aren’t careful. 

I don’t think I’ll ever understand my father. I don’t think I’ll ever want to. He’s a damaged man with a damaged past who did absolutely nothing to make himself better. His tongue was always sharp and his judgement always cruel. He only ever cared about money and how he looked to other people. To the point where he’d hurt his own family. Which he did, time and time and time again. I’ve never understood how a person can cause the damage they inflict upon themself and then make themself the victim of it all. But that’s who he is. That’s what he is. And I’ll never understand it. I’ll never want to. 

I’m afraid he’ll haunt me until the day he dies. And I’m afraid of the person I’ve become where I look forward to that day. I don’t like being a person who hopes for a person’s death. I don’t like the feelings I have around it. It makes me feel broken and cruel. It feels heavy. It’s a burden on its own. One I never wanted but one I now have. Because there’ll never be a day where my father realizes the damage he did. There won’t ever be a day where he changes. We’ve lived with him as a burden his whole life and now I have a new burden of feeling guilty for wanting him to die. Because how many people do you meet who wish their father was dead. 

I stopped being loud because of him. I learned my fire mostly came from him. Came from how he made me feel. How he operated. How he pulled strings. How he always hated me. How he never liked himself enough to be able to change for his own family. I was bred in hate. I was raised in hate. I am a product of hate. But I chose to let it go. I don’t want to be filled with hate because I am not the hate I recieved. I am not the hate I gave. I was young and scared and naive and he was the parent who failed me. Who betrayed me. Who controlled me. Who manipulated me. 

I don’t need to use the fire anymore. I don’t need to scream to a room of people anymore. But the damage is done and maybe one day it won’t feel as heavy. Maybe one day I’ll be at true peace with it. 

And maybe one day I won’t feel bad for the peace I know I’ll get when he takes his last breath. 

#dad #thoughts #family

[dopecoffeehideout]

The Letter I’ll Never Send: Part VII

I thought once I got through what I needed to, that I wouldn’t feel like I needed space from you. Because when I go through things, I do damage control. I minimize. I remove anything and everything that is taking energy from me that I don’t need and you were one of those things. You made me tired when I couldn’t afford to be tired. And I knew I needed space. I knew I needed to hit pause. And I told myself that once I got through what I needed to, I’d be able to come back.

I feel like I’m on the other side of it now. It unexpectedly showed up because I wasn’t even trying anymore. I just existed for a little bit and let the world rotate around me and I think it’s what I needed all along. I feel like it’s beginning to be the past. I can talk about it now without that flood of emotions that knocks me off my feet. I don’t feel immobilized about it. I’ve even started to think about the future again and imagining what the courage looks like to always do what I wanted to do. I feel normal normal again and It’s just nice to feel normal again. 

I made a change. I decided to grow. I decided to reject the parts of life that didn’t make me feel good. I decided to make things known that weren’t known. I decided to address topics that people didn’t want to talk about. I decided to acknowledge behaviors that were harmful. And it all came with a price that I paid. That we paid. And a lot isn’t the same anymore. 

Going through what I went through made me realize you were something I should have ended a long time ago. But you were comforting for me. You were my safe space. You made me feel seen and heard and I thought I was because I wasn’t actually seeing the things I needed to. And when I finally did, I knew we didn’t work anymore, but I was afraid to let go. I’ve always been afraid to let go. But I finally did and it just was so freeing. 

You grew the way you wanted to while claiming it was your right. And maybe it was--maybe it is--but we’re too different now. I surrounded myself with what i thought would make me happy for far too long and I think we worked for as long as we did because I wasn’t achieving what I deeply wanted to. I let my self doubt get the better of me and it kept me from growing--from going through the changes I needed to go through. And I think that’s the only reason why we worked for as long as we did. 

You let me in all the way. I saw everything about you. I was and will always be a wallflower, just gaining all the information I can gain. And I gained it all about you. You were never as deep as you thought you were. You lacked depth and paraded it around as false confidence. Possibly ignorance. Definitely arrogance. And I let you preach about all the people who did wrong in your life. Time and time and time again. And you just never had a moment, ever, where you thought maybe it had something to do with you. 

There were so many times where I gave you information about deeply personal things that you shared openly. And I let it go and convinced myself it was fine because I was okay with the things that happened. And when I finally told you, you said it was because it was due to your girlfriend group. Because that’s how they are. But we’re adults. This isn’t high school. 

I learned how to live without you. I learned that I can live without you. The world will spin. I’ll continue to grow. And I’ll be okay. 

I miss what we had, but I value myself more. I don’t feel close to you anymore and I don’t think that I want to. I put the pieces together that I unknowingly gathered over the years and it shows me a picture that I don’t want in my life. Maybe I’m the villain in your story for how easily I discarded you, but I chose to be my own hero in mine and you were just collateral damage. 

You deserve to feel valued by the people in your life. You deserve to not be judged by the people in your life. You deserve to exist the way you want to freely. And I can’t give you any of that. I refuse to change to have you fit back into my life and you should refuse to change to have me fit into yours. I think our story’s been written and the ink’s been dry, but we both didn’t want to read it. But I think it’s time. I think it’s been time. 

I feel something I miss, but I’m not quite sure yet what it is. I imagine it relates to the piece I always thought would be there. But the one thing I’ve taken from everything that’s happened is that I deserve to make myself the priority despite the bad I may feel while doing it. 

I just hope you learn how to do the same. 

#chelsea

[dopecoffeehideout]

There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

Edit- I added the visualizer for this piece on my YT, check it out here

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[dopecoffeehideout]

“You gotta show love even when they don’t - or you become one of them.”

— Unknown

[dopecoffeehideout]

I told you I didn’t think this was the end for us. That there’d be a day we can get together and I can tell you all about what happened. But with the passing of time, I realize those were lies. Maybe even delusions. Because I don’t know how that’ll be possible. 

I don’t see a day when I have a kid and an overpriced SUV to keep him safe in where I meet you for lunch or a six dollar latte. I don’t see a day where I’ve secured the life I always dreamed of and we reconnect. Because there’ll be too much time that’s passed. Too much time will have passed where we can go back or reconnect or redefine how our friendship looks. And maybe that’s a part of life that doesn’t get talked about because people like fairy tales too much. But I just don’t see how we’ll ever find our ways back to each other. 

#chelsea

[dopecoffeehideout]