Speak

One of the things that makes me luckier than many, if not most people who have loved ones who die (by suicide, or other means) is that when Ian died, I didn’t have anything that I hadn’t told him. I don’t have anything left unsaid. He new everything that I wanted him to know. Whether he believed it or not. He was one of the only people in the world with whom I was able to speak my mind like that. Something about him allowed me to risk it, to put out there everything that made me feel uncomfortable, weak, vulnerable.

As good as past relationships have been, until Ian, I was always guarded – unwilling to be ‘girly’. I couldn’t admit the things that didn’t make sense – those irrational fears and stupidities that I think everyone has. I always had to be different. Be the sane one. With Ian, I could go there. With him, I freaked out. I went a little crazy. I said all the tiny irrational stupid things that ran through my head. He laughed at me for it, but he didn’t back away.

Since his death, I’m trying to be more forthright. I’m trying to make sure the people I care about know everything that I want them to know. That I don’t have anything that’s unsaid. Because you never know when they won’t be there to tell.

I’m nowhere near perfect at this, but I’m trying.

What haven’t you said? Why not?