Nothing worth mentioning

My therapist was dressed from head to toe in white linen. "Just trying to get it in one more time before Labor Day," she offered.

We sat down. She was in the corner on her brown microfiber plush chair and I plopped on the floral loveseat. I always sit on the right side of the loveseat because the person before me sits on the left and leaves a warm patch on the cushion that's just a little too close for comfort.

"So what's been going on these last three weeks?" she asked.

"Nothing," I answered. No-thing. For the first time ever, I was dreading my therapy appointment because I just didn't have anything to say. The last few weeks have been like gliding on water.

My step-father has been increasingly spiteful to my mother, but what else is new.

The one in rehab continues to contact me. If not by phone, then by letter. The carrier pigeon is only so far away, I'm guessing. Only I'm handing it well by telling him I don't want any contact with him and then slamming the phone down.

I waited a week before I actually opened his letter. It's nothing worth mentioning. He made some 4 page front and back grandiose apology, apologizing for everything he's ever done to anyone at anytime. He spelled my dog's name wrong. Wanted to know what my family thought about us getting back together (phaw!) and then said if I wasn't crushed by all of this, then I didn't love him like I once said I did. Like I said, nothing worth mentioning.

It took me a month, but I finally wrote him a response. (He had by now found my e-mail address and was e-mailing me, first kindly, then he took a decidedly different tone when I didn't respond). I needed to write him after I found out the information that I did. I needed to release the poison that it made inside me. This, I guess, was the reason I was at therapy today.

Before I read her my letter, my therapist stressed the importance of writing the letter, not sending the letter. She did not think any further contact with him was necessary.

I picked up my yellow legal pad began to read aloud. There were three points I wanted to make: the ways the constant verbal abuse knocked me down, how his lying taught me not to trust myself and was pretty disabling in my life, and I knew his big, dirty secret and at this point, he does not have my forgiveness.

I laid the pad back in my lap. It was a good letter. Silence filled the office.

"Send it," she spoke.

"But you-" I started to protest.

"He needs to read that. It's called an impact letter and he needs to know how his addiction affected others. He's going to be angry and show it to his counselor because he apologized and you wouldn't accept. If he has a good counselor, he'll read it and then make him read out loud in group therapy."

I laughed that she knew him well enough without ever meeting him to know he would be angry. His initial response was always anger and then blaming the other person. She thinks this might be enough to turn his life around. I think, despite knowing he's going to be angry, my therapist is a tad off.

We then switched the topic to Christopher. Going okay. Nothing worth mentioning. We went away together again for Labor Day, back to a place where we already share some memories. I like the do-over feel of the relationship.

It's still super casual, only seeing each other twice a week. Sometimes I get frustrated with that and would like a little more contact, but in the back of my mind, I know that this is a healthy pace for me. It forces me to spend time on myself and I still see my friends with weekly regularity.

Like I said, nothing worth mentioning.