Chapter 18
Indiana
Dear sweaty Tyler,
How are you? How’s everything been for you?
I won’t lie… this letter will be a venting session and I’m sorry. I have a lot to say and so much has happened. I spent Fourth of July up in Oregon to see Bryce. I was so excited to visit with him and for the cooler weather.
The humidity in Chicago is still something I’m getting used to, but Oregon was a nice break, as you can imagine. Well, let’s just say, it was all a ruse to get me there because my parents were waiting for me.
Yes, you read that correctly! Bryce hadn’t planned it that way. It was originally planned to just be Bryce, myself, and his friends. A BBQ was planned at his new place—some downtime for the holiday and much-needed for me after a very tough semester.
Unfortunately, my parents decided to take it upon themselves to sabotage the holiday and try to crash it in order to bombard me.
I’m so fucking pissed. Bryce apologized a dozen times already while I was there and since I left.
It’s not his fault. He mentioned I was visiting prior to my arrival, never expecting them to show up.
But of course, they did, thinking it was a good thing to try and corner me to pull me back into their lives.
And that’s exactly what they tried to do.
They literally sat there, trying to shove the narrative of medical school still being the better route for a lucrative life for me.
Then they tried to guilt me that they had to lie to me about the adoption, saying I wouldn’t have been able to handle the truth had they told me sooner.
They even said I’m too delicate to handle this kind of truth, saying my health was to blame.
It was such bullshit, Tyler; they still treat me like a child.
I’m twenty years old! If they only knew I’m a married woman.
Add to the fact, I’m financially independent and living across the country without their help.
I’m so over them trying to control my life.
It’s infuriating, to be quite honest with you.
I’m furious with them right now. The minute Bryce saw them, I could see the anger consume his face, but it’s hard because he’s caught in the middle too. He’s their child as well. He loves them and wants to see us all get along. I hate that he feels shoved between us all. This isn’t his fight.
To top it off, once I got back here to Chicago, I got really sick.
I was hospitalized for a few days, my Crohn’s Disease coming out of remission.
I was doing so well on the new meds, but the stress from the holiday probably spurred things on.
I seem to be on the mend right now, but I’m cautiously optimistic.
I’m just upset things got so bad with my health.
It’s unfortunate and I’m now dealing with more doctors appointments and new medications to adjust to.
It brings back a lot of horrible thoughts and memories for me.
It’s a reminder this disease will be with me forever and I hate it, Ty.
I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it better.
I know I don’t have it as bad as others who have way worse illnesses.
But it makes me feel like my parents are right—I am weak and fragile.
Like their words hold truth and I can’t handle the reality of my life and that’s why they couldn’t say anything to me.
I hate that and just hearing the words they said to me repeated in my head makes me so upset.
All I wanted was a nice holiday, plus I enjoy just hanging out and seeing the fireworks.
Now it feels tainted. I’m whining and I apologize.
I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t cower to them, but I also feel like a part of them won because the aftermath was me getting sick and it sort of proved the point that I’m a weakling.
The only good thing to come out of this trip was that I got to meet Bryce’s new girlfriend. I’m not sure how I feel about her yet, but he seems happy. So I’ll try my best to get along with her too.
I wasn’t able to run to a store to get you snacks to send with this care package, so I’m sending two smutty books instead. I had a lot of time to highlight while I was in the hospital. Consider that an added bonus this time around. Enjoy the dirtiness.
Alright, I should go. Thanks for letting me vent.
Stay safe out there.
XO.
I don’t need anyone but you,
Indy