Dangerous Compassions

overdue apologies

Here are a few overdue apologies.

unknown lady

I’m sorry, lady who went around wearing a bikini top for a week.  I’m sorry I judged you as showing off and inappropriate, distracting.  Probably I was jealous you could be so free.  For sure I didn’t understand yet, that some tummies want to have sunlight and fresh air.

Your body is valid–your tummy is valid.  Your back and shoulders are valid.  And your hair, breasts, legs and feet, internal organs, voice, feelings, and needs are valid.

Just because you’re a young, thin, white lady doesn’t mean you’re not deserving of the same kind approval as anyone else, like my fat peeps for example.  I’m sorry my heart was closed to you.  I hope it was joyful, and I wish you peace.  I hope you got what you were looking for.

person I failed to defend

I’m sorry, person I didn’t defend, when I couldn’t defend myself either.  No, it wasn’t fair.  I was still learning how I deserved to be treated, and how to speak up and say no.  Now I have more skills and would do things differently.  I hope you learned too.

Maybe one day you could stop blaming me for my failures.  But if the blame is working out for you, whatevs.  You’ll do what you do.  It’s often easier to blame the nice person who tried to be there and do right but failed, than to blame the actual bully.  I know that’s how humans often are, and I have compassion for you.

I tried to be there for you and nurture you, and it’s ok that you didn’t want that from me.  Good luck finding places you’ll be appreciated and supported in being who you want to be, and finding people who love you the ways you want to be loved.  I never figured it out, but it was an honor to watch you change and grow over the years.

I’ll be thinking for a long time about your family, your behaviors, and how things went to shit.


I’m sorry, treasured spouse, for ways I’ve been critical of you.  It’s an honor to be close to you and be your family member.  I never want to treat you with the mean demanding harshness I sometimes treat myself.

It’s fun to learn with you and change.  “Everyone makes mistakes,” is a helpful sentence, when I notice I’m looking for perfection.

It’s years I’ve been working on loosening up and not holding on with the tightness of a drowning person.  I’m not drowning anymore, but my grip is still weird.  Feels good to notice, smile, and relax my hands.  But it’s not automatic.

Thank you for being patient with me, over the years.  You’re an amazing person to be close to and build reality with.  I love you so very very very much.  I’m going to keep learning to treat you with gentle support and never that mode of critical hardass.

You don’t owe me anything.  We come together to make this queer mini-fam, but you don’t owe me making sense, tons of help, or even clear communication.  It’s not about owing at all.  You are a gift, and I don’t want to take you for granted or think you exist for me.  I’m happy you exist for you, your kids, your mom, and many people, and maybe me somewhat if I’m lucky.

Look at that cute little puchero!

I’m sorry, Laura-Marie, for the harm I’ve done to you.  Hiding your light, keeping you imprisoned when the door wasn’t locked anymore.  Well, at least we eventually walked out.

I see your struggles and all you’ve been through.  Wow, you’ve survived some unsurvivables.  I’m so proud of you!

It’s ok you make mistakes.  I see you pick up your mat and walk over and over.  Thank you for that.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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