I wrote this in my journal a little while ago.

All of this family stuff has been weighing on me for a while. I’m sharing this because that’s one way I process trauma…and maybe it can help other people process similar trauma.

Obviously, I’ve removed/changed names and other identifying details, so this isn’t just straight copied out of my journal. But it’s pretty close.

If nothing else, I hope the sheer length of it says something about how difficult this part of my journey has been.

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The last time we talked, you kept telling me you wanted to let it all go and move forward, and demanded I do the same. I think it’s important you hear why that isn’t something I can do--to just drop my pain for the sake of our relationship.

I want to be clear: This is not to make you feel bad or even to ask you to apologize for every single one of these instances. But our relationship has been a linear progression of disrespecting my boundaries, and it’s important for me to show that.

To be honest, boundaries have always kind of been a weak point. In my life, you’ve always been very headstrong in your convictions, and would sometimes could be rather forceful in doing things your way. I’ve always appreciated your support, even when it sometimes felt like to get your support meant we had to do things your way. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and really only affected me.

But then I started dating Rachael. It was fine the first couple of years, because not much changed in my relationship with you. Again, you were very supportive of us and very kind to Rachael. There were occasional missteps and uncomfortable moments, like when you insisted that Rachael was wrong for telling me about a co-worker who was hitting on her at her job. But these were usually negligible and we could move past. There was so much more good at that point, and your support was such a key piece of my identity that I was considering taking your and your partner’s last name as my last name.

As adults do, I started to be more independent. A lot of things about me changed, and I really started feeling comfortable in my own skin. It started to become difficult to exist as myself in the same space as you.

And then there was my 24th birthday. We had just moved into our house, and you and your partner were helping us a lot. In my memory of that day, you both cornered us in the kitchen to confront us about our religious views. I’m sure you see it another way. But ultimately, we were trapped in this conversation. Rachael was very clear that she did not believe in God. I was not so clear. I’ve never been very good at confrontation and standing my ground, and my anxiety made it difficult to gather my thoughts, but I think the most I could get out was that I didn’t know what I believed. I may have even used the word “agnostic.”

You made us explain ourselves as if we’d done something wrong, and didn’t accept what we had to say. You insulted us and called Rachael naïve. You accused me of letting her shift my beliefs. You brought up our future kids, and said that we would be teaching them to hate God and called into question how we would teach them right from wrong. You started crying and lamenting over how you had lost the grandson that would pray and write to God and loved church. And once we finally got to a stopping point in this conversation, Rachael went and got lunch because she needed space, and you came up to me and made me feel bad about Rachael being upset.

And you expected us to move past it and carry on as if it hadn’t escalated. I tried to move on and pretend it didn’t happen because that’s what I’ve always done with family conflict, and Rachael mirrored it because she wanted to support me and didn’t want to ruin my birthday.

But this tension started to majorly strain my relationship with Rachael. I was putting her in a difficult position where she had to accept behavior that she found hurtful and unacceptable. She also hated to see that same behavior affect me so deeply. My inability to stand up for myself, what I believe in, and how we would conduct our family, mixed with this escalated behavior of yours (and Lisa’s), was the closest we’ve ever been to separating.

Another family member later that day tried to coax me into talking more about it. I was really uncomfortable and gave short answers.

This was, of course, long ago. And if it were an isolated incident, it would be easy to just forget about and move on. Instead, however, it was a spark that ignited a pattern of abusive behavior.

Soon after my 24th birthday, someone close to us (we’ll call her Lisa) drove me to lunch, and she asked me about my religion. I tried to explain that I was agnostic, and part of that explanation was that I believed in the importance of understanding that all faiths had something to offer and were worthy of respect. Her boyfriend was also in the car, and his response to this was that I was wrong, because Muslims wanted to kill Christians, and then he said something in support of violence towards Muslims. I only mention that because at the end of this conversation, she told me that it was important that I be careful of how I talk about religion with others because I could hurt people’s feelings, clearly implying that it was your feelings I should look out for.

This was so isolating. It was a downhill fall for my mental health after that. There were more instances of difficult behavior. As we got closer to the wedding, Rachael asked me what I wanted to do with my last name. She was at a much better point with her family (especially compared to mine), so she wanted to keep her last name. But I didn’t know what I wanted to do. So eventually, I sat down to call you and tell you that, at the very least, I wouldn’t be changing my last name before the wedding.

I was very careful to make sure that I didn’t drop it on you as if it were nothing. I called you and said, “I have something delicate I want to talk to you about, is now an okay time?” When I said I needed time to think about what I wanted to do with my last name, you started hassling me for an explanation. Even as I was trying to explain (and I was struggling, I’ll admit), you interrupted me and kept telling me “you can talk to me, why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” I tried to explain that I didn’t feel like I was treated well, and as an adult, but struggled to get that out. And then I mentioned how everyone had talked to Rachael, and it’s like a switch flipped. You went off. You accused me of a lot of things, but mostly of being manipulated by her. You didn’t believe that this was my own choice, and but Rachael made me do it, and you brought up everything you have done for me and for Rachael. You ultimately didn’t take any responsibility for the immense pain I was trying to express, and instead chose to yell at me about letting someone come between me and my family as if you had been preparing to tell me this for a long time.

And I want to say now that if anyone has come between me and my family, that would be you.

Minutes later, Lisa called me and demanded an explanation. I tried to talk to her about everything, and that I was hurting, and she lectured me. To be honest, I was so overwhelmed and panicking that I don’t remember a lot of it. But I do remember that she, too, took no responsibility for the pain I was feeling, and instead told me how important it was for me to keep the family, and later asked me if I was 100% sure that Rachael was the person I wanted to marry. Without its context, I can appreciate the question and the intent to make sure I don’t make a decision that I regret, but that was an absolutely dreadful time to ask it. She questioned my pain, she questioned my actions, and she deflected any of the blame from you. Despite being close to both of us, she made her choice to defend you above all else.

We gave things some time to cool down a bit, and then decided to plan a dinner at Lisa’s to talk about things. Given my history with being unable to speak for myself, I wrote something ahead of time. I labored over this, making sure it was clear how much I loved and respected you, and took accountability for my inability to set boundaries and be fully honest in the past, but also being fully up front in how I felt and what I expected. Re-reading it, it’s clear not an ounce of it was heard; which makes sense because of how the conversation escalated. Rachael and I had agreed ahead of time to a signal for if we didn’t feel safe and needed to leave. When everyone was screaming around me, insulting me, and attacking Rachael, I didn’t even notice when she had done that signal (I think it was tapping the other person twice). I was frozen. I was frightened. Everyone basically told me that I was shattering them. You stood there while my wife was called a fucking lying bitch. When that conversation in our kitchen about religion came up, you had turned to me and said, “God strike me down if I said you would be terrible parents.” And then I think we all just got tired and chalked the escalation up to not communicating as much. But the two of us still left with a lot of frustration, sadness, and trauma.

Rachael and I decided to focus on the wedding for the time being. You had called at one point and offered to pay for the catering, because it was important for you to be a part of the wedding. I said that I didn’t want to take that away from you but was still pretty upset about that dinner, and you responded that people “get upset and yell sometimes”, and even said that it will be normal for Rachael and me to yell at each other like that occasionally. That made me uncomfortable. But we agreed to let you pay for the catering.

The behavior continued even after the wedding. Any time I tried to tell you I was still hurting, you accused me of being unforgiving, even though you had never taken any accountability for anything you had said. And yes, we were struggling and felt very alone, and felt we could confide in the distant family we met here in Texas, because they would know you best. We talked about our experiences with you and asked for advice.

I had also, in an attempt to improve my still-declining mental health, set up a list on Facebook of 30 or so friends I felt I could really trust and confide in. This gave me the option to make posts on Facebook that only they could see, and no one else; and I wrote a post explaining that list and my intent to be vulnerable with those people. So as things came up in my life, I would write about them in posts where I could be vulnerable.

One of these posts was about how I felt anxious and panicked whenever you would call. It talked about how you had just called me and told me to let go of everything and put my feelings second to keeping the family together. This was the kind of behavior we had confided in them for before, but for some reason one family member decided to show everyone the post, take everything we had confided in her with, and use it against you. We didn’t ask her to do that. In fact, we were very clear that in all of this, we had no desire to hurt you. But she did what she did anyway. She betrayed our trust, and used our pain for her own benefit. I’ve apologized for our lack of foresight, and offered multiple times to tell her that was not okay, only for you to refuse every single time.

After that, we hadn’t talked to anyone down there. My mental health was still declining, and I made the decision that I could not heal with you and mom hanging over my head, so I needed space, and I asked you to respect that. You reluctantly did.

And then we lost Charlie. Obviously, there’s nothing anyone could have done to prevent a miscarriage or bring back our child. Rachael needed outpatient surgery to have the fetus removed. Rachael’s family couldn’t be there in time for the surgery. And I know things were complicated and I had just asked you and Mom for space. But that does not change that I was still in that waiting room by myself, scared, confused, angry, and sad. When Rachael was waking up from the anesthesia, she was sobbing and confused, and just aware enough to get out, “They took our baby.”

We had made an effort to involve you in the life of our new child, coming to a dinner we were previously uncomfortable with attending to announce it in person. And when our child died, and we were drowning in our grief, you were wholly absent.

I had some friends come by and offer support, and Rachael’s sister took time off work and flew down to be here for us, but I mostly had to compartmentalize my grief and pain to be there to support her. And ultimately, you weren’t there for any of that either, and that was traumatic for me because I have always been able to rely on you and Lisa for support and I don’t think I ever needed it more.

That was a breaking point for me. That was when I realized your love and support are conditional, and I could not meet you conditions without changing myself to a different person entirely.

Instead, I found myself explaining my pain to Lisa once again. From what I understand, you had a short phone call with Rachael where you had asked if we were okay, but didn’t ask about me and didn’t really offer any support.

This was around January 2019. I think there were a couple more conversations with you and Lisa trying to settle things that only resulted in insulting me and putting the onus on me for everything that had happened up to that point. In March 2019, Rachael and I were having breakfast on a Monday because we both were off work, and we were talking about the past year. Part of it involved how much Rachael missed her dad and her siblings, and how grateful she was that her siblings would come down to Texas to support the both of us. And we were also talking about something we needed to do with Rachael’s license and we would probably do it that day. And at that point, I realized I was in a place where it just made sense to make a detour to city hall and take Rainwater as my last name.

Still, though, I tried and tried to make things better. When Rachael was pregnant with our daughter, we tried to involve everyone in it and keep everyone up to date. I was doing my best to just move on from the past and give everything another chance (despite the platitudes of chances beforehand).

Then, around Christmas 2019, we learned after the fact that there was a Christmas dinner party with a lot of the family that we weren’t aware of. We were disappointed, but it wasn’t a huge deal. I had decided to call and express that we were sad we didn’t know about it because we might have gone, and that we missed you and the family. You had asked us to make an effort and let you know when we wanted to participate in things, so this was my conscious attempt to do so. I didn’t want an explanation for why we heard nothing about it, but you offered one anyway. Actually, you offered two. The first was that you didn’t think we would want to be there because we didn’t believe in Santa Claus. The second, however, was that you had discussed it with Lisa and Lisa had said that it was a bad idea to invite me.

So I called Lisa and asked her if she had said that. She said no; that sometimes she would tell you that it would be better to give me space but she didn’t (and couldn’t) tell you whether or not I should be asked to come to this Christmas dinner. I told her I was frustrated because I was trying to do my part in being present in the family circle, but that was being sabotaged. She said that clearly I was upset (I think that was the first time that was actually ever acknowledged in all of this) and she would call you to try to figure out what was going on.

Later that day, you had called me again. That conversation is a bit foggy to me, but I remember it ending in you telling me you don’t care who I married because no one will ever love me more than you, yelling at Rachael (again), calling her names (again), and telling her very spitefully that she is doing a good job of keeping me away from my family.

The next day (or maybe two days after), you sent me a meme on Facebook that just said, “never forget the hands who raised you.” Not, “I’m sorry for raising my voice.” Not even something remotely close to sentimental about how much family needs to support each other. In essence, you didn’t feel sorry for anything that had been said because you were responsible for a very large part of my upbringing. It was important for me to respond because Rachael was pregnant with our daughter, and all of this trauma I am describing is not something I wanted her or any of my children to grow up in. So I told you that if you wanted any involvement in her life, that you needed to understand that the things you say matter, regardless of anything that you did for me growing up.

You either ignored or disagreed with that, because your next response ended with, “God bless you, and I’m done with you.”

Either way, it was clear that you felt you had a right to say the things you have. It continued to deeply affect my mental health, and you had just said you were done with me. So the best option for both of us was for me to block you from contacting me.

Between then and now, we hadn’t heard from you much. We tried to set up a conversation to set boundaries since our daughter had been born, but the second we labeled your behavior as unacceptable and toxic, you left the conversation and were no longer willing to participate. Rachael said you had called her when the winter storm had happened, and we were very confused by that. But you have yet to acknowledge any of your hurtful behavior, nor have you taken any responsibility. The only indication that you give that you feel your behavior should be any different is your defensiveness when we try to talk about it. And unfortunately, we do not feel it possible to set up effective boundaries without addressing your past behavior.

You ask me if I want you in my life, and I can’t help but find hypocrisy in that question. You’ve made it crystal clear at this point that you have no desire to be in my life in a capacity that doesn’t entitle you to unconditional forgiveness and loose boundaries. Unilaterally absolving you when you deny my reality and feelings forces me to turn my hurt and frustration inward, at myself. I’ve been doing this for years now, and it has all but destroyed me. I had to take time off work and seek partial hospitalization because I could not cope. I can’t help but imagine that someone who wants me in their life would be willing to make adjustments and take responsibility, especially after years and years of opportunities I’ve given at my own expense.

Trying to convince you that my emotional boundaries matter over the past three years has been painful and traumatic. I can no longer myself in the position where I might experience that again. I can no longer hold onto the belief that your lack of understanding and compassion is my own fault, and that I need to just explain differently or do something else. I’ve given you every opportunity l could, but I no longer have a reason to subject myself to this pain anymore. And even if that didn’t mean keeping our daughter distant (which I have every right, legal and moral, to do), I would still do so. Even whenever I pled for you to respect the boundaries we set for her sake, you refused.

The bottom line is that unless you can clearly and consistently demonstrate a respect for the physical and emotional boundaries that we set, accepting you in my life is a compromise to my safety, and involving you in the lives of the family I’m building is a compromise to theirs.