I was listening to John Tesh the other night on the radio, because I truly AM a dork, and he said that carrying around a burden can physically injure your body.  Since this week has brought on yet another pain in my ribs, I’ve decided to do what he instructed.

He said, "You should forgive someone who has wronged you.  Just saying the words ‘I forgive you’ will ease your hurting.  You’ll notice an immediate change in your blood pressure, your posture, and your outlook."

So.  Here goes.

I forgive you. 

I forgive you for creating NUMEROUS websites and commenting on my one site, and creating entire personalities for those "people" as to create believability, and going so far as to speak about yourself in the third person and praise yourself on your looks, your faith, and your talents.

I forgive you for calling me names such as (but not at all limited to): baby-killer, cunt, whore, wet hole, man-eater, friend-eater (that one was a particular favorite of mine), raving bitch, (regular) bitch, cow, and bulldozer.

I forgive you for continuously speaking untruths, and for doing so loudly, to the point that I’ve (many, many times) had to correct people who had talked to you PERSONALLY and heard these things.. be them about my directorial plans, my legal plans, my romantic intentions, how I planned to beat your ass in the parking lot of the VBC, how I’d sent you various emailed threats, or MY talents.

I forgive you for showing up on the opening night of the show that you knew I was the lead in, causing a ruckus in the lobby, and then leaving 12 voicemails on Bryan’s cell phone, one of which called me "that slut Sarah Brown", and another of which said, "I didn’t know she’d be there!"

I forgive you for forcing me to change online journals FOUR times because you just couldn’t help yourself.

I forgive you for making me lock my doors now.

I forgive you for causing me to question EVERYONE’S intentions now.

I forgive you for poisoning minds.

I forgive you for, after my best friend had moved away and I had moved into a new house and had told NO ONE my new address, hunting me down so your lawyer could send me a cease and desist letter, saying I slandered YOUR name and YOUR reputation.

I forgive your mother for quitting two shows I was involved in, because of "undue stress in her volunteer life".

I forgive you for causing me pain.  Emotionally, mentally, and physically.

I forgive you for all of this.

And when I see you in the street, I will not spit on you.  I will not yell at you.  I will simply giggle.

Because.. let’s face it.. in the end, you’ve been pretty damn amusing.

So.  Long night.

Bryan actually got out of his rehearsal/parents’ night relatively early.  I was in a really crappy mood (read: REALLY crappy), so I took my time to get there.  He, God love him, was chipper as all get out.  I was not.  So we sprawled out on the couch and he talked for (quite literally) hours while I nodded.  This was fine; I really had very little to say.

He talked about his show, his sets, his students, his tech kids, his non-magnet kids.. and I hated him for it.  Not because it was him, and not because he did ANYTHING wrong (he most obviously did not), but because that’s what
I  wanted.  And now, I didn’t have that.  I had nothing to look forward to, no goal to move towards, and no applause waiting.

I really don’t think I said two words for several hours.  I was blinded by anger.

And I really wasn’t mad at Bryan.  He was just sitting in front of me.

So finally, we went to bed.  And he held me, because he knew, and I finally let go.

I cried for about five minutes, which is more than I’ve ever cried in front of him, and talked about how frustrating it’s all been.. thru Marg, the Reality Queen, JoRocksMyWorld, AnonymityisaGift, and the many other “people” who all came down to one person; the letters from lawyers; the rumors and the constantly having to explain the ludicrousness of them; the “anonymous” emails.. how tired I am of fighting.  And how incredibly angry I am, and how embarrassed, and how I don’t want to be seen in theatre anymore and I don’t want to go to the many upcoming award ceremonies and I don’t want to be the girl that’s whispered and pointed about all because I’ve been the adult, taken the high road, stayed silent, and prayed that it would stop.

He listened to me, breathing deeply, and I bawled.

I should say here that Bryan can count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried in front of him.  I’m just not a cryer.  I’ll get upset, or mad, or irritated, but I almost never cry.  And I was sobbing.

“I wish there was something I could do,” he said, quietly.

“Fix it,” I said, between sobs.  Again, this is not typical.  I’m not the type to run to others for protection or problem solving or even advice.

So he left the bed, briefly.  I saw lights flicker off and on in different rooms, and I rubbed my eyes dry.  He returned with what only he knew would console me: a children’s book.  And he read me one of my favorite stories, and we found the part that made me feel much better:

And he’s right.  Dr. Seuss usually is. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m still mad.  I’m still horribly embarrassed.  I’m still humiliated and livid and disappointed and saddened and a million other things, but it’ll pass.  I’ll hole up in myself and recover.  I’ll stay quiet and still remain the adult in the situation, no matter the wrongs put upon me.  I’ll still be Sarah.  Because Dr. Seuss is right..