For so long I haven’t forgiven because I felt as though I didn’t have what I needed. Or didn’t have what I thought I needed. Didn’t have all the information.

I swore that I knew all I needed at the time. That was, all I needed to let go. To say goodbye to that life. I didn’t need more than what I knew already in that moment.

But in order to try forgive was different, is different. Knew in my heart I didn’t know all. Knew it was much worse. Didn’t hear the countless stories and specific sorries I wanted, needed. I wanted, but didn’t want at the same time. I wanted to know for the sake of knowing and get a sorry for each. Even though it would hurt. My logic kept telling me that’s what I needed to get from point A to point B. I couldn’t jump to B blindly. And I didn’t want to forgive either.

Seems as though there are two types of people: those that don’t want to know because it will hurt them, or those want to know even if it will hurt them. I’m the latter every time.

I knew I wouldn’t eventually or ever know all; in time, I was able to accept that. I knew I’d always wonder, question. Those initial restless nights that kept me tossing and turning were full of those questions. The nights that turned to months, cycling my waves of depression.

If I had all I needed at the time to walk away, how bad was it really? All the unknown was terrifying.

Then how could I ever possibly forgive, forget, and move on with the cloud of unknown never shrinking? Always present, haunting me, embarrassing me, belittling me. Torturing me for so long.

Never knew what it was going to take to attain the slightest want, even, to forgive. Forgiveness hadn’t been in my heart. The thought or mere want to forgive hadn’t crossed my mind. I was okay with dealing with it later any time I heard the word. Also, the anger got in the way of isolating that want to forgive. I was so angry. I was so very angry for what felt like a very long time.

By far, the hardest battle to fight. The burden that’s been upon my back for a while now.

That time has passed, and that notch of anger has subsided. The want to forgive is there, and it feels like it’s there finally. It’s not just a thought, not just something in the future that sounds good. Something I need to face. Something I need to choose. Something I want now?

It wasn’t until recently that I noticed its presence. It took one weekend, one unbiased and raw perspective. Someone else’s, and not my own.

Overwhelming feelings of pity and sadness moved through my veins. It was physical, much like any of these extreme emotions at either end of the spectrum I’ve faced in my new life- the life of a single mom. Slight rations of self-induced guilt, but a lot of pity. Completely taking over my well-being, a change within me I knew was for the better. Slowly uncovering all of those suppressed feelings of wanting to forgive.

Wanting to forgive for him, but wanting to forgive more for myself.


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