Forgiveness - What one thing do you need to forgive yourself for this year?
Sin is a strange and awkward word on the lips of an atheist, but one I use without fear of misleading you. You will not be regaled with a tale fraught with lustful vengeance or selfish pride; I will not pray forgiveness for covetous greed, but sin is still the word that fits snugly in the hole I carry around just inside my jacket.
I have sinned against the child that used to glare at me in the mirror, sinned against the man that wishes I were stronger than I am. I have sinned against survival, against the people that can hold their head high in spite of their struggles.
I sit here ticking away the words preparing to send them off into the world to fly away on their own and I find the sting of them all too familiar, like a wound that festers and grows infected from a constant digging at it with my fingernail. I click and I clack every day, pointing at the scars I have and whispering the truth of their origin. I tell of abuse and fear, I shine light on my addictions; I talk about suicide and loneliness, but I do so with ulterior motives.
It is all smoke and mirrors; a trick of light and sound. It is a three card monte of dysfunction; I allow you to find the pebble I have hidden under this cup if you promise not to look under this other. I would rather you see the scared little boy, or the confused and bewildered ex-con; I would rather you stand tall in the shadow of my journey than see the crippled and broken man that tells it.
Yes, I have sinned against myself, and the struggle I endured, by not living; I still huddle in a corner, afraid to draw undue attention. Crowds overwhelm me, I can feel people laughing, I can see them whispering. I find reasons not to go out in public alone, my fear over powers me; it makes me weak and nonsensical. Even as I starve for companionship, I can’t talk to people I don’t know.
I cower in my cave and tap away at this keyboard, I tell myself “I’ll go tomorrow”—knowing I won’t, I find peace in books, nobody there will point or laugh, no one whispers, there is no chance of rejection. I wear death on my arms etched in black and grey as a warning to those who might cross an imaginary line only I can see.
I am not confidant, I have no voice in my head telling me I am better than this or that, I don’t know what it is that makes people call me a friend or ask my opinion. I am broken, scarred. I know that I have made mistakes in my life and these mistakes are what keep me from having the life that I desire and until I can forgive myself for them I will continue to be a shell of the man I strive to be.
I see you. I will hold your hand and take you outside.
Why is it that we think we are unworthy? Why do we punish ourselves constantly? Is it because we can see the blemishes – the imperfections – hear our thoughts so loud – too loud? No one else is looking that closely at us. No one else sees or even cares about the imperfections and yet we do. I can tell you all day and all night that you matter and that there is nothing wrong with you but unless you believe that, it really won’t do any good. Same with me. My husband can tell my I’m beautiful and just right until he is blue in the face but I don’t see it and so many times I don’t understand how he could possibly love me and yet he does.
What I do is remind myself to look around me, look at my friends or loved ones. Are they perfect? Do they have imperfections? Does that matter to me or do I love them in spite of the imperfections? I know the answer to that. Of course I do. I simply love them. We need to do the same for and to ourselves. As always, your honesty is always such a welcome gift.
You will always be your harshest critic. Think of how your judge and view people, I’m sure you wouldn’t never hold the things you hold against yourself up to them to measure up against. Give others the benefit of the doubt that they too see you for who you are, and not what you are convinced you are stuck being.
I read this last night, but had no words. Forgiveness is the hardest thing, especially when we need it for ourselves.
But now that you know what happens when you don’t forgive yourself, what’s the worst that could happen if you do?