KOOL-AID: thanks for writing, but I just can’t risk it

Recently, have been receiving emails from people who have read my blog and felt the need to write to me. Their emails are of concern for my well-being; touching base to make sure am okay, am not lonely, and wondering if they can help in any way.

Really, nice, thoughtful stuff. A lot of them have been through the same scenario as me. Some of them have read more into my blog than others, some have guessed things incorrectly, others have guessed right. Some offered me hope. Others advice. Some pointed me in the direction of organisations which may help me. Most offered to be a support at the end of an email should I need it.

Lovely, lovely stuff. Honestly. And I didn’t know how to respond. Am not used to people being so kind to me. Is weird feeling. How do I relay gratitude when gratitude is not something have normally felt?

But then… Should I be grateful at all? Are these women being kind to me, or is their an ulterior motive?

Because that’s the thing, see. Cannot trust in people’s kindness. No. Always have to wonder their intentions. Do these people really care about how I, a stranger, am handling this new life post-cult, or are they, in fact, members of the church I left, trying to suck information out of me?

The email which scared me the most was one from a lady who seemed lovely at the beginning but then made statements regarding where in the country she thought I was living. Thankfully, she was way off. Yet her directness in a ‘I already know so you might as well tell me’ way scared the shit out of me. She’s one of them, I thought. She’s a member of my church and she’s trying to feed information out of me so they can find me.

The rest could be the same and just be doing it in a more subtle way. And I’ve had to stop myself. If I write back to them, and they are part of the church, couldn’t there be a way they could track my email? Track my IP address or whatever the hell it is people keep talking about on crime shows, to find out the exact location of my computer.

I can’t risk it. Can’t. There’s no way of me determining if these are decent folks or not. No way of determining if they’re members of the church.

One of them said I seemed lonely. Well, fuck yes! Of course it is lonely, thinking every single person who steps into your life may be a spy. Cannot befriend anyone. Cannot trust anyone.

So if you’ve written me, and am wondering why I’m such a bitch not writing back, that’s why. Am scared shitless. Cannot trust you no matter your motives. Cannot have the proof I need you are who you say you are.

The thing that pisses me off about all of this is how this is all I ever wanted in life. When was a child I used to dream of having pen-pal. As moved around a lot would often try starting correspondence with kids I went to school with, but none of them seemed to have the stamina I did for writing. Would have loved to have had someone I could tell all of my secrets to. Someone who could sympathise. Someone who didn’t judge.

But now I’ll never have that, even when it is being offered to me in the nicest of ways. So I’m sorry. Really, am desperately sorry. But right now, I can’t trust anyone but Gruff and Landlord. Which is, admittedly, a sorry state of affairs.

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