My Dearest Goblin King,
I write to you on this the day following a full moon, full moons signifying completions, and endings, to say the one last thing, the one final thing that I have realized, only recently, I want to say to you, that I need to say to you.
As I feel like the world falls down around me once again, having been served with another motion in your never tiring campaign to push my buttons, feeling like there is not enough room in this world for my pain, and feeling some of it for the first time since you left, I feel like now, with the full moon energy supporting me, is the perfect time to end this energetically, and to say the only thing I care enough to say.
My therapist and I were discussing my revenge fantasies (which for the record she finds quite healthy) last week, most of which involve your mother, and she asked me what I wanted to say to you, what revenge I wanted to serve you.
I told her that I just want to torment you, that there is essentially nothing that I want to say to you. You have left me screaming, though voiceless for so long, as you have rewritten history and painted yourself the innocent victim through your endless and exhausting lies, that I didn’t see, long haven’t seen, the point. Anything that I could say would only fall on deaf ears that are incapable of hearing anything other than those lies of convenience.
But, upon further reflection, and an epiphany that brought me to my knees in tears in the shower, the long-awaited catharsis finally beginning to manifest, I realized that neither statement is accurate.
My original statement that I want to torment you, was based on the thought that I could make you think I was the whore that you and your family seem to need me to be by making it appear that I am this great dating machine, with the line for my would-be brothel forming to the right.
I would derive a minimal amount of satisfaction watching you squirm knowing you will never be able to touch me again, never again be able to hold me, to call me yours, or to look into my eyes without seeing what you could have had – seeing instead what you not only killed, but violently murdered. It would ultimately be empty and fleeting satisfaction because we both know that just isn’t me. I don’t have the capacity to play that game, to play any games really, or to be that monster that you seem to need me to be. I grant you full license for that. I will not play.
But what will bring me great satisfaction is this: I am going to live the best life that I can, my best life, THE best life, with our son, and I am going to get everything that I want, and I am going to do it all without you, and I am never going to look back. Just to be clear, that life will not include you in any capacity.
I AM going to have everything I want, as will our son, and if we’re honest, I should say MY son. Let’s face it, he was never yours. You have now made sure he never will be. The last time that you had any potential ownership over him was when he was one of your swimmers. That was the closest you were ever going to get to him because sadly, you have treated him, from conception on, with about as much care as you would show your ejaculatory emissions.
But know I don’t blame you for that. You couldn’t show him any care because you were never shown any yourself as a child. I do not blame you for the faults of your parents. I don’t blame you for your parentage. You were an innocent, and I suspect, quite similar in temperament to our own son as a baby, and you were horrifically abused and outrageously used – you were conceived by your mother’s manipulation with an agenda. It is never fair to any child to be born with a job, much less a job the magnitude of making sure their parents stay together.
Truthfully, you never had a chance. You were broken, brutally broken, and every chance you ever got to see the light and potentially heal, you were forced back down, beaten down, and broken some more. That cycle is unfortunately still ongoing. I pray for you that one day soon it is broken.
I want to say this to you, because I don’t know that anyone ever has, and you deserve to hear it: what happened to you, how you were treated, the abuse that you suffered, NONE of it was your fault. Please, read that again, right now, so that you understand it: NONE OF IT WAS YOUR FAULT.
You were born into this world, as all people are, as an incredible being of light, full of potential and deserving of love, and through some cruel twist of fate, or karma, or circumstance, you were not shown love, and were repeatedly denied it. You did not have the ability to show our son love or care or concern, because you never knew it, not in its pure form, not without severe conditions and extremely high prices. I do not and will not fault you for what you were never capable of.
I’m sure you don’t believe this, especially now, because I’m pretty sure that you are wallowing in self loathing and beating yourself up at every given opportunity, but I swear to you, that incredible being of light is still inside you, and you are still deserving of that love. There never is a cut off or a statute of limitations on that. You will always be deserving of that love.
I don’t blame you for what happened to you. I don’t blame you for what you became because of it. You were, and in some ways still are, a victim of circumstances that most of us never want to imagine and truly wouldn’t believe.
I blame her.
(For much of it anyway. You cannot be completely absolved of responsibility because you always have had, and still have free will choice.)
It has been said that some people should never have had children. Your own mother is one of them, by your own admission and acknowledgement, however long you may struggle to get your head around that fact. The selfishness that she showed in conceiving you and your siblings is disgusting and inexcusable. The cruelty that she showed most severely to you is physically sickening.
One could argue that she too was a victim of her own upbringing, and that may very well be true, but her tyranny and abuse is simply unforgivable. That it has been allowed by all parties to continue into and through your entire adulthood is unfathomable, but also speaks volumes to the depths of the sickness of the situation and the level of abuse. I hope that someday you are able to know this truth. It may set you free.
As a mother, I cannot fathom her actions, just like as a parent, I cannot fathom many, if not most, of yours.
I do not blame you for not having the capacity to love me or to love our son.
I do not blame you for leaving me when I was pregnant, because I knew you’d be back and I knew you were terrified and paralyzed by your demons.
I don’t blame you for leaving after our son was born, because you were overwhelmed to the point that you probably didn’t know what you were feeling.
I don’t blame you for not wanting to be a parent or not wanting to change your life style.
I don’t blame you for walking away and not seeing our son for 42 weeks during his first year.
I don’t even blame you for running home to her, because that’s all you’ve ever done and all you’ve ever known.
No, I don’t blame you for any of it.
I probably understand it all more clearly than you do, and possibly ever will. We both know I’ve long known you better than you ever knew yourself, and that is unlikely to ever change.
Moreover, I have long ago forgiven you for all of that, which is something that you will never be able to accept or understand. I cannot force you to accept my forgiveness. All that I can do is offer it with an open heart. But I do hope, for your sake, and for that of our son, one day you are healthy enough that you will be able to accept my forgiveness, and in turn begin to forgive yourself.
I blame you for one thing, and one thing only:
I blame you for not having the courage to know or to say “this isn’t what I want” and “I can’t do this right now” and for not walking away and staying gone, thus emotionally damaging and neglecting our son through your ultimate act of selfish cowardice.
If you truly loved him, on any level, on whatever level you are capable of, you would walk away and never, ever look back. You have done enough damage already. Let me go. Set him free.
Haven’t we all suffered enough already? You included?
Just so we’re clear, because I haven’t said it before, and maybe I have been remiss in not releasing the energy into the Universe: I have moved on. You know that I never say never (“because no one ever has!”), but I will say that I cannot conceive of a circumstance in this life time, or for many to come, which would make it possible for us to be together.
I have already forgiven you for many, if not most of your transgressions because I refuse to be defined by hate and anger. It is only the aforementioned act of selfish cowardice that I am struggling to forgive because I live with the ramifications of what that on-going act does to our son every single day. I struggle not to hate you for it.
But I do love you. Which is why I have chosen to let you go. There is simply nothing else that I can do for you right now. So I make this choice, and I let go, with love.
I acknowledge that whatever place you are in right now, wherever you are, you have long been unreachable by me, or anyone else. You have chosen your path, and frankly, in my opinion, you have chosen poorly. You are better than this. You really are, and we both know it. But this is your choice.
While I do not like it, to put it mildly, I do accept it as your choice, and I leave you to it. I leave you to walk the path that you have chosen, to get to wherever it is you are going, without me, and without our son. Alone.
You are the expert self saboteur. You sabotaged our relationship and my feelings for you beyond the point of no return. I loved you the best that I could, the best that I knew how, and we both know that I loved you better than you have ever been loved. You couldn’t accept the gift of my love because you felt you didn’t deserve it, and I can understand why given your history.
But you did. We all deserve to be loved, especially those that have suffered the unspeakable crime of having a mother’s love withheld.
I know in my heart, and most of the time in my head, that I gave you my all. I loved you better than many people would argue you ever deserved to be loved. I have no regrets. I would do it again. I know in my heart, and most of the time in my head, that none of this, NONE of this is my fault. I know in my heart, and most of the time that none of this, NONE of this is because I did anything wrong.
I know that you will never find anyone like me, that you will never find anyone to love you like I did, that you will never let anyone get that close again, that you won’t even ever look. That is your choice. All I can do is be okay with my role, and I am, because I know that I did right by you, that I did better than right by you, and that I may be the only person in your life who ever has or ever does.
But please know that is not my wish for you. That isn’t what I want for you.
I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you to know that I am teaching our son about magic. Not the illusionist “pull a rabbit out of a hat” or “saw a chick in half” side-show variety, but the real secrets of the Universe. I have taught him to wish in fountains, and like many beautifully simple things, it is something that he takes great joy in doing.
Each time we see a fountain, we make three wishes: one for him, one for me, and one for “daddy.” We always make the same wish for you: that daddy will find peace, love, and his divine right family. That is truly my wish for you. I cannot think of anything more that I could wish for you. I cannot think of a greater magic to ask for on your behalf.
I know that you are lost. I know you are scared. I know that you’ve never felt at home, anywhere, most especially in your own skin, a single day in your life, although you may have come closest on all accounts during your time with me. I know that it is very dark and very cold wherever you are. But, when you’re lost, you have two choices: you can keep fumbling forward, blindly, in the dark, likely wandering further from where you want to be, or, you can stop and figure out where you are and wait for help.
You have continuously wandered farther into the dark. I am ever hopeful that you have not past the point of no return, and though I have always believed in you, and in your power to reconcile yourself and save yourself, yet again from your darkest days and those demons they contain, that hope dwindles with each passing day.
Know that if you ever decide to wait for help, I will always be here for you. I will never close that door. I promise you that. But that is all that I can do for you. That is the last promise that I will make you.
There is a scene in the movie Moonlight Mile, which is one of my favorites, that we never did get around to watching together, in which Bertie confronts Joe about being lost and being untrue to himself and making some very poor decisions, mostly for the benefit of what other people thought. She asks him “Where’d you go Joe? Where’d you go?”
I would love to look into your eyes and ask you “Where’d you go Ton? Where’d you go?” Because you aren’t here, and you haven’t been for a long, long time.
But truthfully, I would be afraid to look into your eyes, not because of what I might see, but because I’m afraid there is nothing there anymore, nothing left to see at all.
In the movie, Joe sends this letter to Bertie once he realizes how lost he’s been: “Dear Bertie, You asked me before where I went. And I want to tell you. I went to a place where nothing’s right, where every moment’s backwards, every sky’s without colour, without hope. I tried to come back, Bertie. But I got lost. And while I was gone, I met you. And I didn’t even have the courage to realize I was home. A wise friend of mine told me “we all have our homes”, and now I know it’s true. I hope you get this letter, Bertie. I figure I got 75 chances. Cause if you do you’ll know that in the end, that’s where I was. I found home, Bertie. I found you. I hope you can find your’s soon. Get there – as fast as you can. And write me when you do. Love, Joe.”
My last wish for you Ton, is that you find your home, your true home, because I accept that our son and I were not it. I want you to get there fast, out of that place where there is no color, and every moment is backwards, and is devoid of hope – out of your bizarro world. Find your way home. That is all that any of us can ever do.
You were my home for a while. You were truly the first home that I had ever known. I will always have that, and it will find a place in my heart, a happy place, when the dust eventually settles, as the healing continues. I will always have 1477 and I know that it was real. I know that we were both happy in a way that neither of us had ever known before.
What you said that November night was true: we were happier together than any two people ever deserved to be. We did work better together than any two people ever had. We did laugh more than two people ever should. And you were right, I AM magical. More than that – I’m amazing. We both know those things are true. You can attempt to rewrite history all you want and you can disconnect from it and you can block it out, but you can never take that away from me. I know the truth because I was there.
So were you. Maybe it is too difficult for you to remember the reality of what was because you didn’t have the courage to stay and let me love you. Maybe it is too much for you to know that you did in fact throw away the best thing that you ever had and will ever have - what was most likely your one chance at true happiness. Maybe it is simply that in the place where you are, where every moment is backwards, every memory is too.
Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter to me. I know the truth just like you do, even if you choose to bury it and deny it. You can never erase it. You will never chance it.
The ultimate truth speaks for itself. Our love was so beautiful that it could not be contained between two people. It combined to produce a third person. It created our son. Our gorgeous, beautiful, amazing, wonderful son. You can never erase him. You will never change him. That must really kill you. But some things do speak for themselves, even if just by their mere existence.
So, my wishes for you are that you realize that you are a loveable being of light – that you are able to see the truth of your existence and your own personal history, and that the truth does set you free; that you find peace, love, and your divine right family; and that you find your home Ton.
Maybe when you do, you will write me, and we can meet again, in a very different place, in a much different time, and we can get to some place different.
But until then, as my world falls down, again, it falls for the last time because of you. Like Jareth, you thought you asked for so little, asking that I fear you, love you, and do as you say. But I will not fear you, anymore. I will always love you, and maybe I always have. But I will never do as you say. I will not ever do as you say. One out of three ain’t gonna cut it, so you cannot be my slave in return. That contract is null and void. Instead, you’ll have to settle for being hers. At least until you decide to sever the tie that binds.
So, I say to you now, as Sarah said to Jareth:
“Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great… You have no power over me!”
And with that, I release you with my final words, and I set you free, with infinite love and gratitude. So spread your wings and fly, My Dearest Goblin King. Fly away home.