So she says everything written in the letter is true. She swears on her life that if I take her back, there will be no spouse in the history of humanity more grateful, loyal, and honest than her. She suggests total access to her social media, which I already had. She says she will always answer my calls, no matter the situation, and will never have friends I don’t approve of.
There are more things about family and friends that I don’t think are important to share because they need a lot of context. Finally, she pleads to meet me and let her apologize properly to my face. In her words, “Sorry doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.”
What do I think of this letter? The things I can confirm are that she hasn’t contacted Baldi since that Monday when he was fired, and she confessed to family and friends. The rest could be partially true. Also, I am sure it has been sweetened.
For example, she does not mention when she called me jealous and immature. She does not mention letting Baldi sleep with her without protection. She can give me all her passwords, but she lied to my face and gaslighted me for nine months, according to her, and she was very good at it.
Besides, I don’t want to be her jailer. As I said, I will never trust her ever again. When I see her face, I will also see Baldi with her. I will not be her second option, nor will I be a doormat.
I haven’t replied yet, but I think I will see her next weekend.
Update 3
I have been silent because I needed time to reflect, and I finally got it. Thank you very much. It has been some very rough days. For those who want to know, I did meet Jane.
No, I did not answer her letter. It happened because of a dumb mistake I made. I will explain.
A few days after my last post, I had an anxiety attack due to all the stress I had bottled up. According to my therapist, my life had made a 180-degree change, and my mind had not had time to adjust. It was my first time having this kind of episode.
I thought I was having a stroke. Tachycardia, sweating, and panic clouded my judgment. My co-workers called emergency services, and an ambulance came for me. If I hadn’t been so scared, I might have enjoyed the ride.
I was so sure that at any moment I would die. The paramedic kept repeating, “Mister, you’re having a panic attack. Everything is going to be fine.” I tried to focus on his words, but I couldn’t.
My only thought was, “I’m going to die.” At the hospital, they sedated me, and I started to feel better and sleepy. I could answer questions. The doctor asked me for my name, my age, and what day it was.
I answered correctly until I passed out. When I woke up, guess who was next to me? Jane. I had forgotten to remove her name and number as my emergency contact.
I was very confused because of the drugs. I smiled at her and said, “Jane.” She was sitting there reading a book, and when she heard me, she jumped out of her seat and approached me. She had tears in her eyes and told me, “Hello, my love. You really scared us.”
That was when everything came back to me. I stopped smiling and asked, “What are you doing here?” I tried to sit up, but my body felt numb and clumsy. She shushed me and told me to take it easy, no sudden movements, and that she would get the doctor.
She kissed my forehead and left. I wanted to avoid the kiss, but my reflexes were numb. The kiss felt so familiar, but I know it had been more than a year since she kissed me with sincere love.
While she was gone, I looked around. I was in a big room with six other beds. Four of them had patients in them, all separated by curtains for privacy. I also noticed I wasn’t wearing my clothes, but a hospital robe.
A few minutes later, Jane came back with a doctor. I had slept for 26 hours. The doctor explained everything about the anxiety attack I had suffered. He asked me if I had stopped taking any medication.
Jane and I answered almost at the same time, “I don’t.” “He doesn’t take any meds.” I hate how well she knows me.
The doctor told me the episode came from heavy stress, a sudden change in my life, or both. I glanced at Jane, but she hid her eyes. He ordered some days off to reflect and get therapy. I told him I was already in therapy, but the doctor said I needed to see a psychiatrist.
My therapist is a thanatologist psychologist, so she can’t prescribe medication. The doctor told me I must be hungry and that I would be discharged the next day. Then he left.
It was 8 p.m., so Jane had another hour until visiting hours were over, and she didn’t look like she wanted to leave. It felt awkward, and that feeling makes me chatter like an idiot. So I asked, “You said I scared us. Who is us?”
She smiled. I bet she knew I couldn’t resist talking. “Your parents and me. They were here in the morning.”
“Did they leave?”
“Yes. They are expecting my call.”
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow. You can leave. I want to sleep.”
“But your dinner is almost here.”
When the doctor mentioned I must be hungry, my stomach grumbled. I hadn’t eaten anything for 26 hours. A few minutes later, a veteran nurse came with a tray on a cart. She asked Jane to adjust the bed so I could sit up to eat.
I don’t know what kind of face I made, because Jane looked amused and kept staring at me while the nurse arranged the tray in front of me on my bed. I am an ex-glutton guy. Jane said, “God, I love you so much.”
I glared at her again and asked her one more time to go home. But the nurse got really mad at me. According to her, Jane had sponge-bathed me and even shaved me. I didn’t notice until she told me.