A few weeks ago I wrote a letter to one of the champions in my life, my creative writing teacher. It’s part of this spiritual journey I’ve been on, via The Artist’s Way. It’s been a pretty rewarding experience. My intuition is on fire! I recommend it to anyone who wants to improve their art or become creative.
Yeah. It's a lot like that in the first week. (Comic courtesy of Small Peculiar)
There are definitely things that have come up, however, that aren’t all roses. I’ve discovered that I’m a lot more skeptical than the optimist in me would like to believe. But even harder than accepting this is completing one of the activities from week one.
Y’see, just like there are champions of my artist, there are also monsters that haunt my artist. And as much as I’d like to say I’ve lived a charmed life without an enemy (No one’s life is that charmed.), I’m afraid I’ve had more than my fair share of monsters. Apparently they still hide in my closets, disguised as skeletons.
So that same week I wrote to my creative writing teacher, I was supposed to write to one of my monsters. *shudder* I had no desire to do this. I wanted to forget them. And so I ignored that activity. But since the idea has entered my brain, it won’t stop scratching at me. Secretly, I guess I really wanted to write a letter or two.
So in much the same spirit as the last letter, I’m publishing this here. You know who you are. This letter is for you.
It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. I can’t believe you’d expect anything different. Weirdly, sometimes I wish I’d run into you. Mostly because I’m awesome. And I know it now, so I could stand up to you and all of your evil words and actions.
Part of me wishes I could erase you from my memory, a la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but I know better. The things you said to me and about me hurt. Your actions made me afraid. But they also made me stronger and the person I am today.
I’d like to think you’re sorry now. That you feel awful for how you treated me. On my more vengeful days, I’d wish that you were physically hurt. I own a baseball bat and while I’m breaking things, I’ve seen your face. Do you realize what kind of damage you did to me?
For god’s sake, I write more now in a month than I did in the years you told me what a pathetic waste of energy I was. Even my blog suffered in the beginning because I was afraid of your judgment. I was 26.
I know. I *look* like I have it all figured out.
But this isn’t about me, is it?
Your soul is broken. Your artist is stifled. You’ve been abused. You saw in me what was broken, stifled and abused in you. And you were jealous, angry and destructive. So you lashed out.
I’ve prayed for you. I’ve cried for your soul. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I believe there is good in you. In fact, I know there is. There is a light inside you that wants to burst out. That you connect with it and allow it, for this I pray.
Know this: I forgive you. I understand that the way you treat me is nothing compared to the way you treat yourself. I wish you nothing but success in your psychic recovery.
But also know this: I am not here to facilitate your psychic recovery. I’m not interested in rehashing the past and making you feel better about what you did. I’ve done bad things in my life, and I’ve faced them. It’s not fun or easy, but no one else can do it for you. May your journey be blessed no matter what the path you take.
No longer your punching bag,
Rebecca
