Forgiving .... or at least trying .... Part 1

FORGIVE

Okay, so that's the message of the week at Church, and I'm honestly really trying to forgive a lot of people in my life. Trying  being the key word in that sentence. And in my quest to find the compassionate part of me that wants to forgive the people who have hurt me I have come to the conclusion that I have to let out the hurt. The best way to let out the hurt is to talk about it. At least that's what I'm going to try.... we'll see if it works.

My Dad, wow, where to start. My Dad and I used to be so close. I remember being a little girl riding on his shoulders. I remember him sharing my passion for riding and feeling like he was proud of me every time I accomplished something new with a horse. I remember going on his motorcycle around the Yorkshire countryside looking for the perfect riding school. I remember him paying £10 to buy back a "Sootie" puppet that I donated to the school sale and then changed my mind.

Then something changed... I became a MONSTER teenager!! I started to think for myself (mostly). I started to develop my own ideals. I started to see the flaws in my flawless parents. I started to question what didn't seem right to me and in my father's eyes I became tarnished and damaged goods. He coached gymnastics and I was always compared to the girls he coached. I was never smart enough, never skinny enough, never quiet enough, never good enough. My Dad was no longer the man who hoisted me onto his shoulders when I told him I couldn't walk any more, "I've only got little legs". My Dad was now the man that had had multiple affairs and had dragged my Mom and I away from all of our family. My Dad was the man that made us walk on egg shells because of his temper. He was the man that had to have things his way. His favorite quote was "choose to be right or choose to be happy" to him the only way to be "happy" was to be "right". That was my first experience with heartbreak.

I was involved in theatre throughout high school and into college and I worked really HARD  at what I did. I student directed the fall show my senior year. I was so excited for my parents to see the outcome of my efforts. My Mom and Dad arrived. Mom looked like she'd been crying. Dad was in a foul mood and complained that he had to get back to the gym. Again, someone else's kid was waiting. I didn't matter. He stayed and enjoyed the show. Then compared our little theatre to some of the more lavish high school theatres in the area. Again, I wasn't good enough.

As I transitioned from childhood to adulthood this feeling of inadequacy followed me. It still does. I still feel like I will never be good enough, never enough for anyone to really love. I will always be the little girl who got it wrong. The child who listened to her parents argue at night and prayed that I could escape. The child who wanted to run away but didn't because I knew I'd get that wrong. I took all of this into adulthood with me ... no wonder I made such nightmare, horrible, disgusting, stupid  poor choices when it came to my relationships. I have spent my entire life waiting for people to walk out on me.

I will never again be that innocent child who held her father's hand so trustingly, knowing that he would always be there for me.

 I will never again dance on Daddy's shoes.

I will ALWAYS remember how much it hurt to be let down.

And I forgive him. I forgive him.



I still hurt and I'm still disappointed but I have learned a lot. I have learned what I want to do right as a parent and what I don't want to do. I have learned that time is the greatest gift. That patience, while not always easy to come by, is priceless. That sacrifice doesn't go hand in hand with resentment.

Writing this stirred up a lot of emotions that I have tried to ignore for a long time. It has forced me to acknowledge them. My Dad was the first person to let me down, but not the last, and the last one who did won't be the last either. It's part of life. People come into our lives for varying lengths of time and the imprint they leave can last minutes or a lifetime. What imprint will I leave? Will I be remembered as someone who forgave people who hurt me? Will I be remembered as a good Mom? Who knows. Only time will tell....