(Josie Sayz: All of the names are
changed to protect the identities of those it involves.)
Dear Peter,
This is painful to write. I had a lot of respect for you. Even after all these
years, you were the one who taught me that I had been mentally abused, by my family,
for years. You taught me how to look after my finances. You showed me a positive
work ethic. You helped me to find my balance in the adult world. When I met
you, I had been treated like a small child for twenty-four years, then I was suddenly
the head of a household, having to financially and emotionally provide for
other people. That was hard and scary, and I would never have gotten through it
without you. You taught me that it was okay to step outside, and that the world wasn’t the dark and scary place
that I was led to believe that it was. You took me on my first holiday. You
took me to my first restaurant. You gave me the only positive memory that I
hold for my birthday. You showed me love and happiness. You taught me what
positive interactions and relationships felt like. You guided me, helped me and
loved me in ways that no one else has ever come close to.
Yes, there were bad times and hard times. I don’t think either of us were ready
for the type of relationship that either of us actually wanted. But we held
onto one another and helped, when our mental state allowed it to.
Going our separate ways, I never had a hateful thought towards you. I am
someone that requires answers to make sense of things and move forward, but
ghosting never provides those things. So, yes, I did struggle for sometime to
let go. But I never struck out towards you, your partner or your young family.
I wished for meaningful closure, but I never wished anything negative upon you
or your new life. Meeting you was a learning experience. It helped me in so many
ways, even now.
I had moved on and let go. I found someone new who made me really happy. Being
with James made me realise that I didn’t have to withdraw or hold back parts of
my personality. I didn’t have to close myself off or make parts of my
personality smaller just to be accepted. I could be me and not have to worry. For
the longest time, you had faded from my thoughts. Not in a bad way, but in a
healthy way. I no longer needed to hold onto the friendship that we had, to
know that I could feel like I belonged in the world.
But then, the emails came.
This was long before my stalker, so the emails were not from her. At the beginning
of this year, I wrote a personal post on my blog about something that affected
me significantly. My life long wish/dream could no longer happen, and I was
hurting. It still does hurt. I wasn’t trying to be funny. I wasn’t asking for
attention. I was pouring my heart out onto a personal post, into a private place
that no one ever reads, but you. I did not know it was you, at the time. As, often,
my one reader was my penpal Smee.
Have you not had a dream? What a silly question. I once knew you, Peter, and I
would like to believe that I knew you quite well. You had a dream. You are
living your dream. Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland, living happily ever
after, with their little munchkin and felines. You had a dream. You wanted to
be with someone… to be happy with someone… for your father, in particular, to
be proud of you… and you have that. You have that picture perfect, fairytale
ending. You have the thing that you always told me was wrong to want… to live
with your partner and just enjoy where the story unfolds. That is all I ever
wanted, whether that be with you, with Jake, with Lily, with Robert or with James…
to live with my partner and feel safe and loved was all I ever wanted.
Growing up, I never hand the safety and loving family dynamic that most people
experience. It isn’t a fairytale to want that. It isn’t “crazy” or wrong to
want to feel safe and loved. Nothing more, nothing less. All I ever wanted was
to come home from work and know that the person I love, my person, was there. To
know that they love me. To know that they are okay and safe. To give them a
hug, when they are in need of one. To receive a hug, if I need one. That is all
I have ever wanted. You have that Peter. You have my happily ever after and I
leave you to enjoy it in peace. So why do you mock me?
Whenever I mention feeling hurt from a failed relationship, you attack me with,
“You sound crazy. Get help.” Whenever I maturely process a hurtful event from
my past, through therapy, you mock me. You sign me up for humour writing courses.
You fill my email inbox with spam.
There are multiple people where I work, who want me to take action against you
and get the police involved. I am not going to do that. You have your wife and
child. I do not want to involve them in whatever immature, unprocessed thing
you have against me.
Last night hurt, Peter. It really hurt. I don’t understand why you are
continuing to try to hurt me. I am not continuing to try to hurt you. I am spending
weekends with Uncle Darren. I am working my way up with my career. I am covering
for managers and leading meetings with directors. I am struggling with toxic
family members who do not behave like traditional family should behave. I am
learning more everyday what effects my autism and how to navigate it by myself,
so that I can cope better with everyday things. I am processing and grieving a
relationship that meant so much to me. I am enjoying being by myself and decorating
my maisonette to match my personality. I am enjoying eating the foods that I couldn’t,
watching the things that I couldn’t, and doing the hobbies that I couldn’t when
in a relationship. I love spending time by myself, indulging in the things that
make me me. Those aren’t me being humorous. Those aren’t me being, “Crazy,” and,
“Needing help.” Those are healthy things for a single, middle-aged woman to be
doing.
I had a lot of respect for you, Peter Pan. I held a very positive place for you
in my thoughts. You are the one who shaped me in to the adult that I am today.
When I tell counsellors or therapists about my life story, they all expect me
to have gotten pregnant at 16, be a grandmother at my age, with my own 18 year
old child, having their own child, with a council house and have multiple kids with
multiple men, to be living off benefits etc. I always tell people that Barney
the Dinosaur was the reason that I knew right from wrong, at a young age, but I
always say that you are the reason as to why I own my own home, are so good
with my finances, have never had a credit card and have a very strong work
ethic. All of that came from you. Yesterday, you lost that respect. You lost
that positive place in my thoughts. You really do live up to your fictional persona…
Peter Pan… the man who never truly grew up. I always thought that you were the
best grown up, but loved to have fun at heart, just like the Robin Williams
depiction learns, but I was wrong. You are more like JM Barrie’s Peter, in the
worst ways.
Please, leave me alone Peter. Please. You have your family. You have your
happily ever after. I don’t know what you want from me, but it isn’t fair. I
always dreamt that we could reunite one day and be friends… that you would get
along with my future wife/husband, and I would get along with your wife, and we
could enjoy sunny garden picnics together, and exchange Christmas and birthday
cards... to remain a part of each other’s lives in a kind-hearted, mature,
adult way, but not anymore. You are dead to me Peter. I do not interfere with your
life, so stop interfering with mine. Just because your life is perfect, it does
not mean that you can hurt others whose lives are far from perfect. Just because
your life is perfect, it doesn’t mean that I am lying about my life, when I say
that I don’t have a partner anymore and that at 35 years old, I am still single.
I am not lying. I am not creating a fictional tale. Yes, my life is not perfect.
Yes, I am single. Yes, I have plenty of failed relationships. Just because I
cannot meet someone who wants to live with me and marry me does not mean that
you are allowed to ridicule me and make me feel worthless and suicidal. I was
there for you when your failed relationship left you suicidal, so do not push
me into that dark place. You, of all people, should know what that dark and
scary place is like. You should never wish that dark and scary place upon
anyone else. I don’t wish that upon anyone.
Leave me alone, Peter. Leave me alone forever. Forever is an awfully long time,
but I mean forever. I do not have anything to do with you, and you do not need
to have anything to do with me.
I have spent all day trying to solve the mess that you have created. All day.
All of my Sunday has been wasted trying to make my life safe again. The email
address that you like to spam so much, that was related to this account has
been deleted. I had to follow so many authenticator hoops to keep my blog. To
keep my creative journey, my thoughts, my memories. I have a brand new email address
that no one has access to.
Eleven years later, I own my own home, without you. I have an almost £30,000 a
year job, without you. I go travelling, without you. I had a brand new kitchen
measured and fitted, without you. I have all of the electrics, gas and plumbing
replaced, without you. I measure and fitted my blinds, without you. I pulled up
all of the carpets and had laminate floor fitted, without you. I had a nine month
ordeal with British Gas in order to use electricity, without you. I travel 5 miles
to and from work every day, without you. I don’t have social media. I don’t follow
your life on Facebook, Instagram or whatever social media platforms Gen-Z have
convinced you to post on. I have my own life, without you in it.
I am the, “Crazy,” one who needs to, “Get
help.” I don’t think so. You are the one leaving immature comments on my blog
posts. You are the adult in your forties signing an ex-partner, from eleven
years ago, up to courses and spam emails.
Forever is an awfully long time. Goodbye means going away, and going away means
forgetting.
Leave me alone forever.
Goodbye Peter.
- Josie -
