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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...


From the Shadows Comes Light

Forgiveness is still lurking around me like some cheap horror movie lead. All arrows point toward it being necessary for me to be able to gain a higher level of peace. In the past, I’ve been comfortable with the out of sight out of mind concept cause those on the To Be Forgiven list aren’t around me in a way that makes it necessary to even think about them. I can really only think of 2 people that I could actually reach out and touch who I could stand to shake the lingering ill feelings. The rest of em are dead or gone. Sad, I know.

I’ve said many posts previous that I don’t fully understand the concept of forgiveness. Where does the hurt go? If the hurt is still “tangible” when the person or what they did to me crosses my mind, has forgiveness been achieved? I just don’t understand what the process is or how you know you’ve achieved this elusive state. Needless to say, in not understanding it, I’ve clearly not actively pursued forgiveness though I’ve been told it’s a good idea.

I know I need to get to a point where I can acknowledge my mother’s mother as my grandmother. I don’t feel she’s deserving, but I am connected to her lineage (she’s long passed) at the very least. I know I need to forgive His mother for not being supportive. There is no effort being put toward this since she’s moved...I’ve moved...and I don’t have to acknowledge her existence at all if I choose not to. I need to forgive Them for not recognizing when I was crying out or simply never figuring out how best to handle me. I need to forgive Y’all for making me question my worth when your words said one thing and your deeds sent a message that said I wasn’t good enough. I need to forgive Her and Her for not riding with friendship and love and making a left turn on what they knew about me. I need to forgive Him for letting go without a fight and realizing the error in one of those Hindsight eye exams. The list goes on, after all, I’m almost 35.

But there was a major wrong on the screen that I assumed would keep this person on my “I wouldn’t put you out if you were on fire” list. It’s a short list. He’s first and last. His transgression crushed my spirit for a time and took me for an out of body experience. I didn’t recognize my own face or feelings and didn’t know how I was supposed to proceed with that day called tomorrow. I ran on autopilot, living my life from behind a screen while I attempted to sort through the strange array of emotions I was left to deal with. He was supposed to be my friend.

Back when I did call him friend, He’d shared with me the tragedy of having been molested as a young boy by a woman in His family. My heart broke when he shared this with me. Years later, I discovered another man in my life had suffered the same turn and it manifested in some not so healthy sexual expressions. I saw firsthand how what happened to him altered so many things in his life. A few years after that I discovered yet another male friend had the same experience and he’s currently trying to uncover how it’s affected his life and his relationships to try to plaster the holes and live wholly.

My compassion is one of my best traits and one that I keep close to me. I’m a bleeding heart, but also prone to giving too much of myself to those who are broken, leaving myself with nothing. Still, this story of boys, now men, sexually abused by women in their lives and the ways the abuse has affected their lives growing up and as grown men has really touched me.

I don’t know what this means for my life. I don’t know why I’ve been permission to see and touch the wounds of these men or why I’m being challenged with how their pain intersects my life. But for some reason, as I walked through the room formally known as the dining room and informally used as the gym, the words “I forgive you” kept ringing through my mind as their faces flashed by on repeat. I literally felt lighthearted. It’s the first time I can identify with having a moment that clearly spoke to the end of a process that’s been so mysterious to me. Now I have to figure out what this means...do I have a party, send a letter, keep it in my heart, what?? That matters less to me than knowing it has happened. Like with everything else, I’ll figure the rest out as I go.

Watch me move.

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