Work Text:
Dear Alison,
I'm writing you this letter because I need to tell you some things that I'm not comfortable dealing with in person yet. This isn't about your transition or our relationship- or, not exactly. I love you and support your identity- those things are never in question. But I've been thinking about a lot of the stuff that happened when you first came back, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how much I've been been suppressing in terms of how I feel.
When you leapt out of the car and ran into the forest, you terrified me. The same when you suddenly threw me across the room. Those aren't okay things to do to someone, no matter how upset you are. I know how your history has influenced you- well, I don't know really, but I know it left marks. But it's still a horrible feeling to have you choose running into danger over talking to me, or see you suddenly become physically violent. Looking back on those things... I'm angry with you. And yet at the time I responded to what you did by being extra supportive, extra careful with your feelings. I convinced myself that the fear I felt wasn't fear for myself, even though your actions were sudden, shocking, and I felt like they were meant to shut me down. (I'm not saying they were, but that was how I experienced them.) I told myself that I wasn't afraid of how you treated me, but that I was afraid for you and the pain you might be feeling.
One one level, that actually is how I feel. Running from conversations, lashing out physically... I know this is going to bring up bad memories, but I need you to understand this... those were the last two things I saw you do before you died. At that time I did react to those actions with anger- and so I wasn't there when you lost consciousness for the last time for almost sixteen years. I don't think I could have saved you even if I'd been there a little earlier- but all these years, I've carried that guilt. I felt that my anger at you pushed us apart, and I regretted that anger every day. I should have processed those regrets, but I didn't. That's on me. But I never even got to say goodbye, not really, and I clung to the thought that if I'd been kinder to you then, it would have been different.
And then you came back and it happened again. You ran from an argument- and this time I knew you were running into a dangerous area. You acted out violently- not just on the furniture, but on me. And the part of me that should have been angry was overruled by the guilt and regret and trauma I'd been carrying all this time. I was so scared of not being kind. So I was kind, and I buried my anger and my fear of you. Yes, I was afraid by the way I couldn't predict what you'd do next.
I've been so scared to even bring this up, but enough is enough. I do love you and I want us to be happy together. But I can't go on like this, so I need you to commit to changing. I know it feels right now that we've resolved a lot and things are going to get better, but we're going to have tough times again. That's just how life is. And when our relationship gets strained, I need to be able to trust you. I can give you space, but I need you to communicate with me about that space and not just storm out to go wherever. And I can't live with the kind of physical violence that I've seen in you. I need to feel safe in this relationship and those are two non-negotiable things.
I wrote you this letter because it feels easier for me to communicate like this right now, and I hope it feels okay for you too. I would appreciate if you spent some time just thinking before you reply, and maybe you can send a letter back. I do want to make this work, I just need you to work on some things too.
Love always,
Brendan