Dear Men - An Apology
Dear men,
I’m sorry I’m late in writing this letter to you. It has taken a while to sew up the pieces of my broken, hardened heart and soften enough to open it again, but here I am and this is my apology.
You have long been the target of the acidic bullets of my scathing tongue. I’ve dressed you down so I could feel bigger and watched as you relentlessly soaked up the daggers from my eyes and the stone wall silences of my lips.
Anger has always been my favourite coat of arms when waging my war with the masculine. You can take it, I would reason. You deserve it, I would snarl. Unfortunately, all I was defending was the crushing ache of my longing heart to be held and loved by you.
I apologise for offloading my immature ways on to you, for subjecting you to impossible ideals and then tearing you down when you inevitably could not meet them. I was brought up to believe that you would rescue me, you see. What they didn’t tell me was that all the while, you needed rescuing too.
I am sorry that the weight of a woman’s pain lands on your shoulders and instead of offering soft hands to ease the tension, I piled more upon you and added to the load.
I recall the times when I looked straight in to your eyes and saw red rings and weary lines, yet turned the other way; part disappointment, part disdain. In truth I was afraid, afraid that without your strength we would all crumble. I’m sorry I misunderstood strength and expected you to open your heart to me, neatly and perfectly but without tears. I hope we can crumble together now.
I have cursed and kicked when I couldn’t feel you. When you wouldn’t give me the window into your emotional world that I so desperately tried to prise open. I understand now that you were taught that in order to be a man you had to block those feelings off. You didn’t learn how to swim in the depths in which I submerged and I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe every time I tried to drag you with me.
When I spat my bitterness and resentment at your feet I watched you bow your head and furrow your brow. At the time I never dreamed that you, a human, might be nursing the same small, broken, insecure parts of yourself, like me.
I failed to see the little boy that brought you here. The little boy that yearns and hungers for the nurturing drops of a mother and lost love of a woman. I’m sorry I starved you when I had arms to hold and a heart to share.
I apologise for falling for the same conditioning that kept you in a hardened shell. I regret that I could not see that your actions, although sometimes painful, were born from the same distorted narrative that had me calling myself your victim.
I’m crying now. But this time, instead of shedding tears to manipulate you in to doing what I want, these tears are an opportunity to sink further into my heart.
And finally, I’m sorry for blocking you out for so long. I’m sorry that I kept our hearts apart. And although there may be some parts inside of me that are still catching up, I am ready to truly see you.
Love,
A x