Sorry for throwing out some heartbreaking stuff without warning. I opened my jewelry box the other day and my eldest daughter picked up the fake ID from my week in hell. It knocked the wind out of me a little and she looked up at me with confused eyes.

LR- It says you’re born in 1969. WTF? Why would you ever want that?

I didn’t want to tell her the gory details and she had fresh malice and joy dancing in her face. I told her it was a fake ID, cost $50 and worked. She was scandalized enough to gasp and shake her head at me. Her life is so different than mine and I’m so proud that we’ve been able to protect and shelter her from growing up too fast or being left at risk.

We all make mistakes. Something terrible happened to me, yes… but I’ve done plenty of terrible shit with intention. It all comes out in the wash. Ultimately, some of the worst things have given me the best sense of humor. The dark, horrible shit has made me quite a resilient little lady.

My sister the Unicorn is the same way. We simply were born with too much faith, an overabundance of love to give and faulty brakes. We jump in head first and worry about the depth of the water, afterwards. It usually works out and of all the people I know, her and I are living big and out loud; leaving nothing on the table. A few scars, sure… but I’d rather have a dozen than a single regret.

You only get one life. Who are you trying to impress? Why spend it whiny, bitter or sad? No matter how badly you think you have it, someone out there would give anything for your problems. Life is short. Eat the chocolate & buy the jeans. Wear the red lipstick and kiss that boy. Work accounts for so much of your life that I can’t recommend having a job you love, more. I am really blessed in that area and it trickles down into everything else.

I could count my heartaches instead of my blessings but if I’m going to be honest I’m a little concerned which side would outweigh the other. So why open the door? I’m living a life that I did not expect when I was a starcrossed teenager, but I honestly don’t know how I ever would have imagined such an amazing adventure.

Putting my rape down in words is uncomfortable. I can still smell him. I don’t enjoy the physical memories and I wish I could pack those away with the regrets I so easily decline. It’s a little difficult to forgive someone who’s never apologized.

I did find a silver lining… as is my way.

I’ve gotten over the facial hair hangup. It took me 27 years, but I can say with absolute lecherous joy that I’d give a very healthy kidney for a certain beard on any part of my body.

Forgiveness sets me free & Incredicock sets me on fire. Consider me cured.

Bad things happen to unsuspecting people every day and you can either let it be a moment in who who are, or you can let it define your whole life. I choose to file it away with the rest of the bad shit that I don’t want taking up space that I could fill with joy.

Or beards.

One thought on “Forgiveness

  1. I read your previous post and decided not to “like” or “star” it or whatever. It was very compelling and a part of me didn’t want to go on reading but I did. I imagine time will run out before all the necessary filing is done. Thanks for sharing.

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