30 Days of Truth: I Can’t Let You Go


30 Days of Truth, Day 10: Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know

This post isn’t about someone I wish I didn’t know. It’s about someone that I used to know, that I will never let go of. Specifically, my first girlfriend.

A letter to my First Love,

There is so much I want to apologize for. You will always inhabit my heart, and with you, regret. I am sorry.

I’m sorry for the way I broke you and put you back together, only to break you again.

I’m sorry for making you feel so unsafe with me that you had to disappear, change your email, block me on Facebook and stop taking my calls. Not because I would stalk you, but because I would draw you in, only to leave you, once again, hanging.

I’m sorry that I was selfish. That I let my fear, my desire for immortality and my own self-hatred come between us.

I’m sorry for abandoning our love because I believed those who told me it was wrong.

When I met you, befriended you, fell for you, my eyes were opened. I experienced something that I had never known or experienced before–devotion. Adoration. Purity, desire, lust. I fell into a world I didn’t know existed–one where another woman could touch my heart, body and mind so deeply that we became melded–one.

I realized what it was to be two sides of the same coin. Inextricable. Undeniable. Beyond permanent.

Yet my beliefs–my terror at the thought of being cast into hell, and my desperation to be accepted–built a wall so high and so strong that I could not tear it down, and I could not scale it.

I was afraid. I was afraid of our love, what it meant and said about me. I was afraid of who and what I would become if I embraced it fully. I was afraid of losing my family, friends, community, “calling”, social standing, faith and god. And all of those things, I put above you. Above us. Above our unbelievable passion and deep understanding of one another. So I fought us. I ran. I hid. And I did what I was supposed to do.

I locked away the part of me that enabled me to love you, and convinced myself that I was straight. That even if I was not heterosexual on the inside, I could be heterosexual on the outside. That if I could love a man, he would erase you. That my life with him, our home, our children, our faith and our family would blot out what you and I had, and render it unimportant.

Oh, I knew I would always love you. That I would never forget you. That you would always be a part of me, curled up deep inside, pulsing, breathing, but not growing outside of the box where I’d relegated your memory.

And now, happily for you, you have moved on. You have found someone else. A woman who is not afraid to love you. Not afraid to hold your hand and kiss your lips and possess your body. A woman who will give you what you deserve, and what you always wanted from me but I wasn’t brave enough to give.

I wish I had been brave. Not because I know we would still be together today, more than a decade later, but because we deserved a chance, you and I. You would have done anything for me. You would have stepped into another world for me. You would have abandoned your family and any friends who could not abide our love. You would have fearlessly tread where I was too scared to tread, if it meant giving us a chance. If it meant that our souls, which mirrored each others, could have a chance to touch and expand, be and explore, to at least try.

But it was me. I took one step forward and two steps back, over and over. Stealing kisses and affection and sex, then running back to my false idols and my security and my ridiculous delusion that I was important, that some Sky Daddy had a plan for me, and that plan was more important than you and I; love, and us.

I am sorry. I’m sorry that any part of me thought that we were wrong. That the fact that we had the same parts, in my mind, made what we had perversion instead of beautiful. That I thought for even a moment that our affinity for one another was anything other than perfection. That I retreated, left you stranded, and stranded myself in a place where I could not be true to who I was, and cut you off from the person you needed me to be.

It was a long time ago. So long that I am sure you are over it. But I will never be. I can accept things the way they are, because I have no choice now, but I did then, and I made the wrong one. For making you feel like the tree in the garden, for treating you like a temptation that needed to be uprooted and burned so that I would not burn with you, I am so sorry.

I will always love you, always.


One Comment on “30 Days of Truth: I Can’t Let You Go”

  1. […] intoxicating, deepest, truest, purest, intense female to female experience possible–and I threw it away. I caused her pain. Why should I be allowed a second chance at that kind of connection? How could […]

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