(Part 1: Draft 1)
To all:
It is not my purpose to humiliate or alienate. It is not my purpose to try and convince anyone that I am intelligent or wise or of perfect character. I’m not perfect. I’m not of above-average intelligence, and I am far from being Solomon. And I already believe not a single person over the age of 40 whose life began with the surname H trusts me any further than they can throw me.
I can accept that. I’ve learned to accept that.
Trust is not given. Whether one has been found undeserving of trust is irrelevant in this circle of family. No, trust is not given, ever, and having it “earned” is exceptionally rare indeed.
I find it necessary to include the quotation marks since one’s definition of “earned trust” will vary greatly and distinctly from each other and the generally accepted definition as given by any Joe Smith off the street: unrelated and unaccustomed to the particular verbage and respect requirements within the H family.
Yes, it is with my faculties intact and fully understanding that my own character, morals, and intentions will be questioned to a degree that I will find painful and cruel that I write this letter. My security is not found in the respect of this family, but in knowing without a doubt that even with my sins bare before the Lord I am still Loved unconditionally and that is what must matter most.
I can only hope that, as is the pattern of past relationships with blood relatives in the H family, my husband is forgiven for my actions and accepted with the love and respect that he deserves, despite what I am about to do.
It is my purpose, my hope, that this will open a conversation that will alter a course that is already set in motion. Though I believe the likelihood is very, very slim, and that the only real consequence will be to change your collective opinion of me, I cannot sit in silence.
Qui tacet consentit.
He who is silent consents.
Confessions from the Rockin' Chair 
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