The most offensive thing you can accuse me of
is being violent. Dangerous. An actual threat to you. Not only because I've spent so much of my life as a pacifist--though nowadays it's more a personal stance; the world is complex and unfortunately, sometimes violence is necessary to forge a better future--but maybe more because I literally have harm OCD and already am very concerned with not hurting others. I don't even want to inconvenience anyone. And my best friend, the person who I thought knew me most in the world, accused me of being a violent threat to her.
Because…why? I cried on a video call? I was unable to regulate my emotions during one of the worst weeks of my life, while it felt like my best friend was pulling the rug out from under me? Clearly, I made a mistake by trying to communicate maturely earlier that week when I said I felt like you sometimes wanted to pass me off on others or whatever it specifically was that I said. I'd had that feeling for over a year, because whenever I mentioned struggling socially, you just told me to get out there, regardless of how much I actually did put myself out there and still failed to connect with people because despite what you think, I am awkward because I'm actually, literally autistic.
Damn, it's a good thing we're not friends anymore, given how terrified you are of having an autistic child. What a nightmare it would be having an autist for a best friend. When I think of the things you've said to me about autism, I'm relieved you're no longer in my life. Even before my diagnosis, your ableism always disgusted me. If you can't stand the thought of having a disabled child, then you have no business trying to become a parent, because anyone can become disabled at any point for any number of reasons, including your children.
But back to my attempt to communicate maturely, using "I feel" language and not blaming, just trying to express how I was emotionally experiencing this specific interaction that we'd had maybe a dozen times over the past year…you couldn't handle that. You couldn't handle one real conversation. In fact, after the tears, you tried to institute a stupid multi-month break like you did with M.
I feel so bad for her. You treated her like shit after D made a joke implying he wanted to hurt her to stop her interrogation. No wonder she was concerned he might be violent; military humor is violent, it is aggressive and intimidating, and D should know it's really only ever appropriate in its original, intended setting. Fuck ADHD, he's an adult and can own up to his shitty behavior and work on doing better. Neurodivergence isn't an excuse for being rude and then encouraging you to distance yourself from one of your oldest, closest friends as punishment until she finally learns to read your mind and gives you the perfect apology.
Anyway, I've always suspected he wanted you to stop talking to me. Didn't like me getting high, even though he drinks to excess. Wouldn't let you have an edible, even though he was literally in another country and we were just going to watch fucking Interview with the Vampire or something. That concerned me, but I kept my mouth shut. It still concerns me, his apparent penchant for controlling behavior--because I know you only ever told me about intimate partner violence and abuse well after those relationships had ended.
But also, you willingly married into one of the most destructive (lethal!) institutions on this planet, at a moment that is perhaps the least ethical time to remain in the military in decades. You're complicit now, congrats. I'm so glad I don't have to worry about you anymore.
I still will, though. Because even if you ruined our friendship the moment you accused me of being a threat to you and tried to put me in time out rather than have one real, difficult conversation (between two adults I thought loved and respected each other)--despite how you hurt me, I still don't want you to be a victim of domestic violence, because no one deserves that, even someone objectively shitty like you who only wants kids as your retirement plan despite leaving the country as your parents' only child while they're both in worsening health. Holy shit, did that bother me. It's a relief to no longer have to deal with your selfishness.
Anyway, I know I'm not a violent person, and that's what matters. I know what's true. I don't even let Dodie kill lizards or frogs when we go around the pool every morning. She meows as if to say I'm no fun, but I remind her she has plenty of toys inside. (I'm starting to rescue the frogs when I see them. They're all so little and I usually notice them when they're already stuck in the pool, too small to jump back over the edge to dry ground. So now when I see them, I pick them up and take them outside. I think the lizards can get out more easily, because they can just walk under the screen doors, whereas hopping is not a helpful mechanism to get under anything.)
Oh, I love our armadillo, too. In French, armadillo is tatou, like tattoo. I love that. They're nocturnal with terrible vision, practically blind in the sun, just like me. Bove jokes that my sunglasses are ridiculous, but there's nothing ridiculous about ocular photosensitivity--just varying degrees of discomfort. When Dodie sees Maman Tatou, she just stares 👁️👄👁️ which is also kind of what deer do when they see Dodie. Except the brave doe who wags her tail (a friendly gesture!) and tilts her head from side to side like a confused dog. She stepped pretty close to the screen last time! Dodie still kept her distance, watchful as ever.
Speaking of the friendly doe--she wasn't the same lady, but before all the fawns were born this spring, a doe with an extra-dark stripe down her neck and back would come to our yard every morning…until one day, we looked outside to see her lying with her baby in the pine chips, almost invisible. We think she gave birth in our yard. Before the baby came, I'd speak to her in a soft voice that would get her tail wagging in this distinctly happy way, so I looked it up, and research confirmed. She and I are lifelong friends now.
Another deer aside: there are a lot of twins and triplets this year! Which is apparently a sign of a healthy deer population, so good for them. B'ezrat Hashem that buck I saw six months ago didn't have CWD and it's not in Central Florida yet. (An aside to this aside: inshallah really rolls off the tongue better than b'ezrat Hashem, doesn't it?)
Anyway--I'll be segueing that way a lot--I made this blog impulsively today because I wanted an anonymous platform to process things, and specifically that violent accusation was bugging me because a video I watched on YouTube reminded me, etc., when I come here to tell you something reminded me of something, I can assure you, it will almost always be a YouTube video.
Reading back, I feel mean, but it's so obviously from a place of deep hurt and betrayal. I wish I could not care anymore. I bet she's stopped caring, since she didn't seem to give a shit about me at the end. And yet I'm still concerned. When things come up in the news about abusive veterans like Graham Platner, I worry about her. I want her to be safe.
Sometimes I think about writing her a short email, just reiterating that if she ever needs help for anything, I'm here. If he's not abusive, she'll probably be offended, but if he is, what if he reads her emails? A lot of abusers hide who they really are until after the wedding; that's simply a reality. I worry he's gotten even more controlling, isolating her from even more of her loved ones. So obviously, I also worry about an email making it worse for her. Why am I so concerned about someone who abandoned me?
Dodie is trying to be my pillow, but it's not very comfortable. My sweet angel, and definitely not a murderess. Anyway, I should review my new client's essay. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.