Day 20: What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?

I have a few “difficult” things I’ve had to forgive, as a result of always wading in just a little too far over my head. My little sister the Unicorn is the same way. We ask for forgiveness, not permission… we roll the dice… we leap before we look. As a result, we’ve both learned a lot of hard lessons in the most challenging ways imaginable. We learn the hard way- it’s inescapable. Consequently, we have both attracted some bad people, made some dumb choices and forever had a fleet of responsible sisters standing there shaking their heads and helping pick up the pieces for the umpteenth time.

The MOST difficult things I’ve had to forgive, have been pretty awful. As a mother I would die a million heartbroken deaths if my babies went through some of the stuff I’ve survived, but it’s also made me annoyingly resilient and pretty damn successful.

I forgive easily. Some people would probably say too easily for my own good. I guess I was raised to know in my heart that forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, because carrying hate around is heavy and you need empty hands to be able to help yourself.

Some people and things have taken me longer though.

  • My rapist. That was a tough one. He ruined things for me that still make me so sad. The Beatles, beards, and leather jackets have always been ruined since then. Incredicock fixed my beard phobia and now I actually like them. I don’t panic when facial hair touches my cheek. I’m not afraid to feel it on my thighs. I love that. The Beatles is a tough one. I have tried to listen to a little here and there, careful to avoid certain songs, but it still turns my stomach and makes me anxious. Same goes for leather.
  • My dad. Oy… this one is still a little ongoing. I hate the daddy issues he gave me, which aside from my face is pretty much the only thing he contributed. He died early as well, so there wasn’t an opportunity to try again. He died at odds with 3 of his 4 children and missed every significant event in all of our lives. He’s tough to forgive. 🙂 He was human though, and I do have really nice cheekbones from him. I treasure the siblings he gave me and wish he’d been able to enjoy the cool people he made.
  • My shitty high school boyfriend who broke up with me the day before Valentine’s day to go out with the girl with the perfect hair who occupied the locker right next to mine. I still don’t like red roses after watching her carry them around that day and I hate that damn holiday. Ok maybe I haven’t entirely forgiven him…..
  • Crazy Virgin Islands. Ugh… another huge challenge. He served me with a cease and desist to get my blog entries regarding him and the trip from hell off my blog. Too many women had found them after searching the internet and I didn’t even care to fight over it. I was the stupid girl that got on the plane and flew 15 hours to date a (SURPRISE!!) married man for a few days, I deserved some bad times after being so stupid and reckless with my safety. I forgive him for being a raging sociopath… not enough to talk to him ever again, but certainly enough to stop cock blocking him. Plus I made 42 new friends who had similar experiences with him AND helped a couple dozen avoid joining our illustrious tribe. All’s well that ends well, right?
  • Myself. The hardest one of all is learning how to let myself off the hook a little for being so reckless sometimes and so damn trusting with too much of my heart. I love loudly and I’ve always hated that about myself. I don’t anymore. Losing Anthony really taught me to say the hard words every day. I tell the people I love every day that I love them. I’m too nice and that’s ok. I’m also a passive aggressive bitch when inspired and I like her too. The last year has changed me in a million ways and I’m much prouder of this new version than I ever was before. That’s a pretty fabulous gift, if I do say so myself.


One thought on “Day 20: What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?

  1. I have a picture of a little Buddha with “Let that shit go” framed and hung in my bathroom. I remember the morning wood blogs before you went down there. He was so good with the pretty words and good grammar. I cried for you when you wrote about your horrible time there, and I cheered you on when other women came out of blog land to say, “me too”. It felt good to read about the other women’s experiences because then you knew your writing was helping others by talking about it. Outing his identity was the coolest thing ever. I unfollowed his blog after that series and noticed that several hundred others had too.

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