I thought that I could save you with my love.
11 years ago on Valentine’s Day you ended your life, after trying every other way you could to deal with the pain.
And I was left with the devastating feeling that I had failed you.
I did not know how to feel the overwhelming guilt and grief without collapsing back then.
Instead I went right into doing, fighting to shine light on the injustice and mistreatment in the psychiatric hospital.
As if that would bring you back somehow.
Or at least make up for the fact that I could not save you, despite all my efforts to do so.
I froze the guilt and grief there and then.
Instead of feeling it and move it through, I locked it into my body and being.
And with it I locked my ability to love fully.
I became a savior when you died.
To make up for not being able to save you I tried to save everyone that came after you.
11 years with an unconscious fear that my loved ones might actually die, if I’m not there to save them from their pain.
11 years of codependency, giving myself up for the other and my work to make sure they stayed (alive).
As I’m going through the letters and journals you left me the grief is finally releasing from its frozen state in my body and being.
I can finally cry all the tears I didn’t cry 11 years ago.
And beyond it there is so much love.
I love you and how you loved me so fully unconditionally.
I love me for all the ways I tried to save you with my love.
I love that I don’t have to be a savior anymore.
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