Tag Archive | forgiveness

The F-Word

It’s about time that I make an appearance and talk about things. There seems to be a build up of thoughts and emotions that have clogged the flow of words from getting to this screen. For several weeks now, I’ve had an emotional surge and have wanted to come here immediately to release. Of course, work and life get in the way and all I end up with is my weekly Haiku, which I love, but my life is not all about counting syllables and rhyming.

So. Here I am. Mid thought. Hoping to dump out a bit of what has brought me here without it being all moshed up, and after reading you think…what is she even talking about? Maybe I should start jotting down thoughts as I have the urge to write just so that I don’t forget what it is I wanted to say. Anyway, here’s hoping I don’t start rambling and that this makes some sense.

As part of my “self-healing” process, I’ve been taking part in an online chat group with some other Domestic Violence survivors that I’ve met over the last two years. It takes place on Twitter every Monday night at 9pm EST under #domesticviolencechat – brainchild of Lindsay Fischer (aka @LinsFischer) usually accompanied by her trusty group assistant, Amy Thomson (aka @AMarie9619). There has been a decent round robin of participants. Some people stop by every week while some take a pass depending on the topic at hand, as it could be triggering. Others, I’m sure, just read along without saying anything, if only just to know they’re not alone.

Last week, the topic was forgiveness. “Forgiveness of our abusers, of ourselves and of others who were not there for us either by choice or ignorance.” I had made the suggestion. I’m sure we had covered this topic a while back but forgiveness seems to be one of those ever evolving enigmas. As survivors begin to heal, I think, their thoughts on forgiveness change.

(Way back) In the beginning, when I started to share my story, I discussed the elusive Missing Ingredient. Forgiveness. I pondered “How can I forgive my husband for years of abuse?” What I came up with were reasons to forgive myself. At that point, only two months into pouring out my story, I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive my abuser and I certainly wasn’t sure I was ready to forgive myself. I understood all of the reasons why it is beneficial but it was still too early.

Yet again, two months after initially discussing this topic, I posted Forgiveness 101 and still I was unsure of where I stood. I had read an article by Deepak Chopra, which read in part:

“Some people are so ashamed that they can’t bring themselves to tell anyone their secret. The result is the worst kind of guilt, that festers inside with no chance for relief. If you feel that you have this kind of deep guilt, you must still find a way to believe that you are forgiven. You may have to take baby steps to get there.“

In reading back my post and the article, I could see how close I was. Just on the outskirts of understanding the necessity of this “F-word”. I knew somehow it was key but I wasn’t sure how to obtain it and I wasn’t even sure I deserved it – let alone give it away to my abuser.

Since then…it’s been something along these lines:

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.” ~ C.S. Lewis

And by that I mean, I can’t pinpoint when it happened or even how I’ve changed but I can feel something different. It’s this bizarre internal feeling. Almost evolutionary. Maybe enlightenment. I’m not sure. All I know is, I feel good. Mentally. For the first time in a long time, my mind is clear and focused. It’s weird. Kind of like an out of body experience. As if to say, I’m aware of my awareness. If that makes any sense.

So back to last week’s #domesticviolencechat group session. I didn’t think about it when I was in the moment. It wasn’t until someone retweeted my comment:

“I forgive myself for falling prey to my abuser. I was 17 and didn’t know how to ask for help.”

Wow. That’s an eye opener. First thing, apparently I forgive myself. Kudos to me. And the other thing, which is huge, is that I don’t think I ever allowed myself to acknowledge the fact that I was indeed a kid. Probably because back then, when I was a kid, I was so intent on being a grown-up. Plus, I had a lot of responsibility at a young age, so I always felt grown-up. In comparing me at the age of 17 and my own daughters when they were that age, I was a grown-up! There’s no comparison to the way the kids are today and the way we were in the 70’s and 80’s. Granted, it was a different time, no matter where you were raised.

Nevertheless, this statement I made, almost unaware, really opened my eyes.

I was a kid pretending to be a grown-up who got caught up in a world of unexpected trouble with no real skills on how to get out of it. For those of you that can’t comprehend the intensity of the situation that child was in, for those of you that judge her choices and for those of you who think she deserved everything that came her way…I forgive you.

Most of all, I forgive her.

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My story starts HERE.

Purposeful Poetry

Sep7

My intent was to write. To take “pen to paper” and finally be honest. To say it all and let go of everything. Never expecting the whirlwind of emotional baggage I would truly be dumping out. After letting go of so much you’d think that’s it. All that has led me to today is out. I’ve purged. So I’m good, right?

It doesn’t seem to be that easy. Just in the same way you clean out your attic or your basement, ridding it of all the junk you’ve accumulated over the years, standing back and seeing it clean and empty…you sigh…finally. Then you get close up into the corners and crevices and you see all the residual dust, dirt and spider webs that are still there.

Then you realize…you’re not done. And so I’ve realized – I’m not done. This is where the writing from a different viewpoint came into play. I figured I must have some dusty corners in my mind that need to be wiped clean. Coming from that same place, since poetry has always been a healing outlet for me, I decided to finally participate in some of the Haiku Challenges I was noticing on Twitter. If I was going to do it though, I wanted to do it as part of my healing process and not just for the fun of it.

What I didn’t realize was how much it was going to take to dig down and write a measly Haiku. I mean, three sentences written in 5/7/5 syllable format. How easy this would be, right? Not really. I don’t write anything (whether posting it or not) that isn’t something meaningful to me. I just can’t do it – from an emotional standpoint. If I don’t feel it, I literally can’t write it – AKA – the zone. Participating in these poetry sessions (if you will) is, for me, another form of therapy. And, it keeps me writing.

If you’re interested in reading some of my work, please click on my Healing Haiku and Micropoetry pages to see what I’ve been up to.

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

Sweet Heart Series: Day 4

Feb4

When I was a little girl, growing up in the 1970’s, I was allowed to play with everyone. My parents never discussed the color or ethnicity of anyone we knew so the color of skin was never a subject I thought about. When I started Kindergarten both of my parents worked so my grandparents watched me. I used to play with all of the kids that lived in their building on a daily basis. That summer, my grandmother passed away. I don’t really remember what provisions were made after that regarding who watched me. It’s possible my parents worked different shifts so that one was home with me, I can’t really remember. All I know is that I continued school near my house. Midway through elementary, we moved to the neighborhood where my grandparents lived and I started school with all of my familiar friends and I met other kids that would eventually become lifelong friends.

When I started in my new school, one of my friends from my grandparents building was in my class. We’ll call her Lucy. Since there was a decent hugh difference within my class and neighborhood I never saw her as different. However, I soon found out that she was a girl that got picked on, and often. It happened to be that her father was black and her mother was white. Today we call it biracial. Back then the names were cruel and ignorant from little 3rd graders…oreo and zebra were pretty prominent. And even though I was her friend, and new her probably since before I could remember…I joined in. The black kids, the white kids, the spanish kids….we all tortured her. Of course, because we were kids, things would subside and we’d all be friends again…until the next time she became the target.

As the years went on, less and less of that occurred. I’m not sure if we all just outgrew it or if the friendships over powered the need to pick on her. Don’t get me wrong…I was not exempt from being teased. It was a free for all…we ALL got picked on at one time or another. Whether it be because your pants were too short or you had a booger hanging out of your nose…everyone was fair game. And it wasn’t considered bullying…it was kids being kids.

I never told anyone until recently but my participation in teasing Lucy was an extremely heavy burdon on my heart. This was a true regret I carried with me into adulthood. Even though I went through almost all of school with her, I never apologized. We’d see each other here and there…we were for the most part friends…more like aquaintances as the years went on because we never really “hung out” anymore plus she dropped out of school so I never saw her after that.

I don’t know how many people in the neighborhood knew this…I did because my grandparents lived directly upstairs from her family…but the entire family…from the mother to all 5 children (3 more to eventually come) were ALL abused. Serious, insane, jaw droppingly abused. I never even knew how bad until I got in touch with Lucy’s mother. She contacted me through Facebook. She was finally free of her husband and told me of all of the horrible things that man did. This woman was locked inside of her house. He had a deadbolt put on and nails in the windows so they could not escape. He beat them terribly…your worst thoughts…he did it. He even had his wife commited. It was only about a week or so but still. Then he moved them out of state and continued the madness. Her eldest child was lost to drugs and eventually died. Lucy would also succumb to drugs and some sort of mental illness most likely due to being raped by her father.

After speaking with her mother several times, she told me of the eventual arrest of her husband and how her and the rest of her kids are finally at peace. It was so nice to hear a happy ending for her. At one point she asked me if I had ever been “in the life”. That’s how she phrased it. In The Life. Of course, I said no. A small part of me wondered if we reconnected for a reason. Maybe eventually I would need her expertise. I shrugged it off as this was a couple of years ago and I was no where near ready to talk about my life.

However, there may be another reason she was brought back into my life. Whatever reason, I took full advantage of the situation. I sat down one Saturday and wrote her an extremely heartfelt sincere apology about the way I took part in the treatment of her child. I was hysterically crying writing it. I never realized how much it truly affected me. When I hit send…I felt a small sense of relief but I was so nervous anticipating her response. She called me to respond. She said, “Honey, I can’t believe you carried that on your shoulders for so long. You can let that go. I cannot hold against you what you did as a child. Those were actions of children who didn’t know any better. There is nothing to forgive as far as I’m concerned but if you need it, I forgive you. And I thank you for such a beautiful note.” At once, I felt a huge sense of relief. The heaviness of that burden was instantly lifted…even without apologizing directly to Lucy.

With that being said…since blogging…I’ve come across great people. Some of whom, as I write, I know will respond…and I look forward to it. One of these people wrote something that reminded me of Lucy. And I know exactly how heavily it weighs on his heart. He wrote a beautiful poem about it…I wish he’d find a way to forgive himself. Even if he is unable to find that little girl from the bus…I extend the forgiveness from Lucy’s mother unto you…

This one was written by: Fragments of Life

of all that is taught and reckoned as sin,

from top-to-bottom, left-to-right, inside-to-out,

one way or another, i’ve committed them all.

yet, i shrug it all off after a moment’s regret,

and move on, not feeling too bad at all

for most of what i’ve done.

only one sin haunts me and will not turn me loose.

Continue reading here… Unpardonable

Forgiveness 101

Jan23

I just came across this article. Funnily enough…I gave similar advice out to one of my readers a couple of months ago. Sounds like it may be something that actually works. The reason I gave this a read was in the title…Why Forgiving Yourself Can Be So Hard? Of course it didn’t hurt that it was written by Deepak Chopra. I mean, if anyone should have the right answers you’d think it would be him.

Seriously though, I cruised along this topic a couple of months ago in my post Missing Ingredient. I’ve seen and come more familiar with the topic of self forgiveness since then. It really is everywhere. Yet, I’m still not sure where I stand…with myself. The beginning of this article states:

Now this I have covered. I was most definitely ashamed of my secret. Although I’m not necessarily sure it made me feel guilty. However, in telling my secret it did relieve this massive burden I carried. The burden of holding on to that secret in the first place. Sometimes I’m still in shock that I’ve said it and that it’s out there. But I’m glad I did. I feel confident enough to continue to tell people. My own personal 12-step program. I have no idea what step I’m on but I am on the staircase!

This article is brief so I don’t want to recount the entire thing here but in short there are 3 steps to aid in self forgiveness. The first being to write a letter confessing your secret. Check. Done deal with this blog. It’s where the second and third steps come into play that I was intrigued by – mostly because I hadn’t thought of it in those terms. The second, put my “guilt” on someone else as if it wasn’t mine. To give me perspective. In other words, how would I see this burden if it wasn’t mine. I’d say that was a semi-check. In reading all the other stories out there, similar to mine, I feel like I would have given the same advice that others have given to me – and so as I would give unto myself (Does that make sense? 🙂 I’m kind of tired.). Behold the third suggestion, adopt a mantra so that when you feel this “guilt” (aka burden) creep up you can repeat it over and over. One suggestion being “I am not here to suffer anymore” which is somewhat suitable for my situation. Apparently, this will help to rewire my thinking and not take me down the same road that I was on in feeling said guilt in the first place.

All in all, it seems logical. I’m not adverse to giving it a try. It may make more sense in helping to forgive actual feelings of guilt, which for certain past behavior I have come to terms with and forgiven myself. I’m not sure how much it would work for forgiving myself for being where I currently am. I absolutely recognize that some sort of self forgiveness needs to take place. I would assume, though, this has to be something that happens – as an epiphany. Maybe I am not enlightened enough yet and haven’t reached that place where I am truly engaged to my internal emotional state that I feel warrants forgiveness. I don’t know. This topic completely stumps me. Doesn’t hurt to try, right?

Have you forgiven yourself? What made you come to that point where you knew that’s what was needed? For those of you who have been down the same road, any suggestions on this self forgiveness theory?

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

Missing Ingredient

Nov7

This existential journey I decided to take has been pretty amazing. Who knew several weeks ago I would have been more excited about getting on a blog to read stories, poems, random thoughts written by strangers rather than sign into Facebook even once the entire day to read anything posted by people I’ve known forever. Even more so, that anything I would be reading would have such an impact on me or that I would become so interested in the people writing these tidbits. What’s more mind blowing is that anyone became interested in not only reading my story but also relating it to theirs. Some of you who have reached out have become regulars and I always look forward to hearing from you and appreciate the offering of your kind words.

As I have been surfing WordPress in this uplifting topic of Domestic Violence (there goes my sarcastic streak), there have been many stories written about that one thing. The missing ingredient I can’t quite grasp on to. That would be…forgiveness. Of course, from a religious standpoint we are taught to forgive. It is the right thing to do. It’s good for our soul, and so forth and so on. What we’re not told, is that forgiving someone is hard as a mother—. It’s the flip side of sin. We know sinning is wrong. (I’d like to believe) Most of us do not wake up and say to ourselves, “how can I sin today”? We wake up, go about our daily routine and…sin happens. No matter what type of righteous path we hope to be on the real story is we screw up and hopefully wake up tomorrow and try again.

My biggest problem is I’m not sure I want to forgive. Of course, I can forgive the petty stuff. For instance, if my friend said or did something that bothered me I may let it go and do the old forgive and forget thing. Mostly because I value our friendship more than some trivial misstep or maybe because I know it was not intentionally done to harm me. Which leads me right to the question…how can I forgive my husband for years of abuse? Obviously there is no forgetting. I can’t really be expected to wake up one morning and say…”remember when….oh wait, I can’t remember”. But for some reason bigger than us I should say…”hey, you know what…I totally forgive you for punching me in the head all those times. No biggie”. It’s not like if I forgive then he’s going to be a normal person. Why do I have to cave in and forgive a person who has no intention on changing? It’s not like I want any sort of relationship with the man. Marriage, friendship or anything else. Even if we came to a mutual agreement and he said. “Hey … you go ahead and move on. Have a great life.” It’s not like I’d be inviting him over for Sunday Night Football. When the ties are severed…that’s it.

So what am I missing? Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that it somehow relates to my own personal healing. I get it. Really I do. It’s just going from understanding it to applying it is where I am stuck. My feet are literally in the mud and I won’t budge. If this is the only key to me moving on what am I supposed to do? There is no doubt that when I walk out of this door – if he backs down and does not follow me, stalk me, threaten me, or jeopardize my children’s life or my life then maybe after a few years pass and I feel safely away from him, maybe then, I can begin to forgive him. Even as much as I hate him after all these years, I do not think he wakes up or comes home from work looking to start an argument. I know it boils down to him having issues beyond his control. I just don’t care is all.

The other aspect of this that I have been reading about is…not in forgiving him but in forgiving myself. That really struck me. I’ve been seeing that pop up A LOT over the past couple of days. I almost felt like I was being sent a sign. Helping me to see that it’s not about forgiving him and that I need to forgive me. Now that really started me thinking. Yes, I absolutely need to forgive myself for some things but how do I forgive myself for his crap? Even though it means nothing because it’s only words shouldn’t he be apologizing? Shouldn’t anyone be apologizing? I mean it was my husband, my father, my grandfather, even my mother, who have all wronged me in some way. But that is so ridiculous. It sounds like an episode of trash-tv. I am not one to blame everyone for my circumstance. It’s no one else’s fault. It’s mine. I made these choices. Maybe that means I should apologize to myself? Okay, let’s try…

I am sorry. I’m sorry that when I was growing up I stole candy, bathing suits and money out of my father’s draw. I knew it was wrong but at the time the candy tasted good, the bathing suits looked great and the money came in handy. Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry. I’m sorry that I was not always nice to the next kid. Sometimes I went along with the crowd. Not always…but I did. I knew it was not nice to call you names or pull your hair but at the time I thought I was so tough and cool. What goes around does come around. Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry. I’m sorry that I was a lying little teenager. Lying got me into trouble and lying got me out of trouble. As I got older, I knew this was wrong and armed myself with the truth. I decided to tell the truth no matter the consequences or if it hurt someone’s feelings. I am still walking a fine line between the two. I do recognize that sometimes both have been the wrong choice at times. Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry. I’m sorry that I left the greatest love of my life for a man who treated me like garbage. I’m sorry I did not have the courage to stand up to him and walk away before it was too late. I’m sorry that when I left…I came back. I’m sorry that someone who claims to love you has beaten you, called you names and treated you like you are beneath him for so long. Today, I am sorry for my actions.

A brief list of some of the things that I have done wrong in my life. That I am most definitely regretful of. But even if I were to say to myself…I accept your apology. In other words…I forgive me. Do I really? When it comes down to it, I really have worked through the first three things on that list. I am good to go as far as that stuff is concerned. Basically this entire theory is moot. I have no idea if I should forgive my husband or myself. I’m not sure either of our actions deserve forgiveness. If that’s the only thing holding up the progression of this situation, I’m afraid I may be screwed. Now what?