One week ago I had my AIM thing open on the computer and a message came through from someone I intended to have no contact with whatsoever for the remainder of my unnatural life. This person, who I once referred to as "The Muse," and I had a rather unpleasant parting following her suicide attempts, intense cutting episodes, abuse of alcohol and drugs, and her time spent in the locked ward of psych hospital. And, for all that, when she was taken off to another state by her family because she could no longer take care of herself, she was unable to grasp that these were not the reasons I was cutting her completely out of my life.
The reasons I was cutting her out of my life were related to her blatant infidelity, the lies she spread about me, the manipulative emotional abuse she subjected me to, and how she continued to do whatever she felt like doing no matter what impact it had on anyone around her, including me. In the end, it was a case where it became obvious that nothing and no one mattered to her other than herself.
She seemed to be trying to instant message me in order to apologize for how she had treated me, although there was a curious wording to her "apology." She didn't say she was sorry for treating me so poorly. She said she was sorry she never realized how good I was to her.
She never asked how I was doing or how I was handling my recovery from the events that transpired when we were together. She proceeded to give me an update on her activites, which included another major breakdown, another cutting episode that involved an emergency room visit, another suicide attempt by overdosing on pills, a month spent in a psychiatric hospital, and being kicked out by her family because they could no longer "deal with" her. In knowing her family as I do, I tend to believe the actions they took had more to do with her abusive behavior towards them than her general psychotic actions, but it isn't likely she'll be capable of understanding that anytime soon.
She wanted to know about her possessions, most of which she was forced to leave behind in New Hampshire when she was spirited away by her family. I told her I only took one thing and left the rest for our landlord, a kind-hearted woman who put up with a great deal in having the former muse as a tenant, to sell at her weekend yard sales.
"No, I didn't want anything to remind me of you."
She asked me what I did take, what this one item was.
She collected a lot of what was, for the most part, junk. She spent time at flea markets and garage sales and the like looking for strange and offbeat items. What I took was a picture. It might be an antique for all I know. It is a sepia tone print of a painting.
The people in the painting are wearing what looks to be 18th Century clothing. There is what looks to be a father seated on a bench outside. There is a young girl in a long dress kneeling beside him with her hands in his lap, being held by his, with her face pressed against his cheek. What looks to be a brother is standing beside them, holding the reins of two horses. Below the print of this painting is a single word in capital letters, "Forgiven."
When I told her this print was the one thing I kept, something she acquired just because of the horses, she asked if the reason I kept it was because I had forgiven her.
"That isn't the reason, but I do forgive you and I hold no ill will towards you. I simply do not want you to be a part of my life in any way ever again."
She didn't like that answer.
Ever since then I've been looking at the print and wondering why it is that it captivates me in such a strong way. Today I had a bit of an epiphany.
I still haven't forgiven myself.