A few years ago, I wrote a piece entitled, "Dear Vinny." It had nothing to do with my husband; rather, a clever (or so I like to think) play on the word 'vino.' Wine has long been an on and off affair of mine, and occasionally, I like to remember the reasons I can no longer be involved in that toxic relationship. I'd like to share that piece with you today...it may be a little rough in places, but the brain needs time to heal. Dear Vinny - How are things? I haven't seen you for a couple of weeks...I've been a bit busy with some new friends, and quite honestly, trying to recuperate from our last whirl-wind romance. "Romance" may be too strong of a word for what we had, as that typically implies a relationship that involves mutually affectionate and passionate emotions. Those terms could hardly describe our relationship over the last several years. There were some positive terms I could have used to describe our history; there were things you made me feel and desire that I didn't realize were buried deep within my core. I will admit that the first time we met, when my sister introduced us, I wasn't ready for the intensity of all that you had to offer. Heck, I was only seven. Just one small taste of you was overwhelming...although, not gonna lie, I threw up in my mouth a little, lol. I wasn't quite ready for you yet, but I really wanted to find out if all of the grown-ups around me were on to something. They all seemed so cheerful after being around you and your extended family. And although occasionally my mother was angry about life in general after you'd reminded her of some of the things that had not gone as expected in her life, she spent more than one late night with me, after some quality time with you, sitting on my bed proclaiming her absolute and complete love for me and my brother, and that we were her world. She didn't spend a lot of time with you or your family, but when she did, she usually seemed happy and content, and I wanted that for myself. At ten, I met one of your more exotic relatives, a handsome, sweet temptation named, "Kahlua." I enjoyed his company alone, but sometimes we'd get crazy and bring a couple of others to the party (some Russian guy, and some milk to keep it innocent). That was when I knew I had found a place to belong. It wasn't a "crew" I consorted with regularity then, but they were always there to lighten my mood when I needed them. I introduced them to my other few, but close, friends, who were also very happy to be a part of the gang. Over the next few years, I met much of your family, both immediate (although a bit red-neck) as well as some of your foreign and more passionate relations. I met TJ (coincidentally my nickname at the time), this guy who worked on a farm owned by the Boone family, and this scary, unkempt man who liked to be called, "Mad Dog." There was also a guy who drove a Thunderbird, but he was so cheap and tacky, and that date went so horribly wrong that I refused to see him again. You have some other relatives who have much stronger arms, and they made me feel happy and accepted almost immediately. There was Jack, Jim, and someone with a very comfortable southern accent. But my soul mate was your relative from Russia. He and I spent the next couple of decades meandering through what I call "my experimental period." There was nothing we wouldn't do together. He was willing to try anything, and because of his boldness, so was I. The only problem was that he became terribly physically abusive. My body began to disintegrate before not only my own eyes, but also the eyes of everyone around me. I decided to end it with him, at least for awhile. Give myself a chance to see if I could do it alone, and regain some of my health. My family deserved it after all. After a few days, or weeks, or months or years (I can't really remember), I began to miss that comfortable embrace again. I knew my Russian friend was just too much for my still-weak body, but how about that guy I met when I was seven? In high school, he had always been so light hearted and fun...that was just what I needed. So, I looked you up...you weren't hard to find. In fact, I seemed to run into you everywhere! Grocery stores, mini-marts, gas stations, restaurants...even WalMart! I learned that whenever I was feeling a little anxious or overwhelmed, I could always count on you for support. You had all of the answers, and helped me overcome my inhibitions. So many things we did together...many of them illegal (although some only in certain states :-) ). In the beginning, those around me enjoyed the spontaneity of our relationship. They saw us as the life of the party. And there were so many parties. Too many, I guess, because those people (my friends) stopped attending. A few of the closer ones hung in a bit longer, but since I focused more on you than I did them, they soon tired of our affair and politely explained that they would still be there for me, but they didn't feel that we were a good couple. Then, what luck!! Tragedy struck and our home caught fire! I was once again approved to be with you without criticism. I fell into your arms, and never looked back. My family mentioned many times that I was perhaps spending too much time with you and not enough with them. I did my best to try to incorporate both worlds, but it just wasn't enough for them. Even my employer noticed that I wasn't my old, productive self, and suggested I seek help. I did, and somehow ended up in a place that promised me they would show me how I could rid myself of my unhealthy relationship with you. I wasn't sure that was what I wanted, but if it would make my family happy with me again, I would give it a shot. I came home a month later. My family was overjoyed, but I felt so lost. My employer had replaced me, and so I had nothing to fill my days except thoughts of inadequacy and you. I made it without you for almost another month once I came home before I couldn't bear it any longer without you. My family grew even more distant. I found a new job that was a wonderful opportunity for our family. I made great money, and quickly advanced. You were there with me every step of the way. But once again, you clamored for my attention incessantly. I knew that the only way to keep my job was to try, once again, to exorcise you from my life. So, back I went to ask for help. I was confident that this time I would win. I had learned everything about you and your insidious deceitfulness, and I could handle anything. This time I made it a full two months. But since I had learned all about you, I knew how to handle you this time. I never realized the lengths to which you'd go to keep me close. You listened, comforted, laughed and appreciated me like no-one else could or would. Eventually, nothing else mattered. I gave up my home, my husband, my daughter and my perfect job just to be with you. What was I thinking? I'm finally aware of all of the time you've spent in the grasp of others while I've remained devoted to you. And all the while, you've been wreaking the same havoc in their lives. I could not see it; I could only see that they seemed capable of managing their lives and romances with you, and I was certain I could do the same. You are not capable of holding me at night, or even allowing me the comfort of being held at night. You've never once wrapped your arms around me to tell me you love me, only your tendrils to constrict with the promise that "It will all be better." And you've certainly never looked at me while I was singing and said to me, with great admiration, "Mommy, you're awesome!" In fact, you stole my voice. I've not much left to lose. So it is with great respect, humility and desperation that I'm choosing to let you go. We're toxic together. If you remain in my life, the next natural step is truly death. And although in the past you have nearly convinced me that that would be the only way I could leave you, I assure you that I intend to live my life to the fullest, one day at a time, without the empty promises that I have come to not only believe, but am guilty of uttering myself. And so, as they say, it's not about you...it's about me. Tee-
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