It's been 5 years since I left the court room. It's been 7 years since that ugly day. And if this journey is one giant puzzle, then I found the last piece and set it right. And my heart finally is at peace.
I spoke with a friend this week. It was a struggle to decide - if I wanted to remain angry, indifferent or receptive. When I think back on our friendship, I didn't want the good memories to be a trigger of pain. I wanted my friend back, and if I could help it, not have this person reside as an enemy to my memories the rest of my life.
I struggled with the appropriate words. I don't fully understand the cause for the falling out. The fear of my ex prevented me from comprehending any other person's problems. The pain of my ex numbed me from feeling any responsibility to another person's pain. But words have meaning, and if I was to reach out, then what I would say had to be relevant.
It's not a perfect analogy, but if I slam my finger in a car door I can't expect the car to fix my finger, and it does me no good to tell everyone the car door hurt me. I alone am responsible for how my finger heals. I can do nothing, and hope for the best. Or I can do something proactive and give it the best chance to heal right.
It was humbling to admit to myself that sometimes I want someone to feel guilt for what they said or didn't do to help. But it was empowering to recognize that the thought process was victim-hood. I needed to move beyond that. I needed to be proactive in my healing, and maybe that would contribute towards our healing.
Not only did I feel anger, but jealousy. Other people had the freedom to walk away from the mess, I did not.
What I experienced and what others in my family experienced was ugly and traumatic. Very few people responded well. Some people, in response to something very wrong, respond with self-righteous anger that is more damaging than helpful. Some people, in the face of taboo, distance themselves. It's so gross, and so beyond them to help, that it's easier to separate. Sometimes the shame was crippling it was easier for me to deal with it in silence.
It doesn't make it right. But I do understand.
I didn't want to apologize with an empty sorry- that so often people use like a magic wand. I didn't want to apologize for a life circumstance I couldn't control. But, I was sorry for all the years of anger I harbored towards this friend, and for the root of bitterness I felt towards my ex that eclipsed my decision making and guided my response towards others during that time.
There was healing in our exchange.
Some pain will always hurt, but it is possible find wholeness and be happy.
Some arguments with family can't be forgotten. Some choices I've made can never be undone. The distancing of friends will always hurt. But when I think of those same people now, I know there is trust and healing.
Instead of living in the past, I am confident in my present and hopeful for the future. And when I feel the pain of the past or become jealous of others having what I perceive I lost, I remember this promise: The Lord will fight for you and you will hold your peace.
So I turn to my family and my friends, I rejoice in our healing, celebrate their milestones, and I keep pushing forward.
I spoke with a friend this week. It was a struggle to decide - if I wanted to remain angry, indifferent or receptive. When I think back on our friendship, I didn't want the good memories to be a trigger of pain. I wanted my friend back, and if I could help it, not have this person reside as an enemy to my memories the rest of my life.
I struggled with the appropriate words. I don't fully understand the cause for the falling out. The fear of my ex prevented me from comprehending any other person's problems. The pain of my ex numbed me from feeling any responsibility to another person's pain. But words have meaning, and if I was to reach out, then what I would say had to be relevant.
It's not a perfect analogy, but if I slam my finger in a car door I can't expect the car to fix my finger, and it does me no good to tell everyone the car door hurt me. I alone am responsible for how my finger heals. I can do nothing, and hope for the best. Or I can do something proactive and give it the best chance to heal right.
It was humbling to admit to myself that sometimes I want someone to feel guilt for what they said or didn't do to help. But it was empowering to recognize that the thought process was victim-hood. I needed to move beyond that. I needed to be proactive in my healing, and maybe that would contribute towards our healing.
Not only did I feel anger, but jealousy. Other people had the freedom to walk away from the mess, I did not.
What I experienced and what others in my family experienced was ugly and traumatic. Very few people responded well. Some people, in response to something very wrong, respond with self-righteous anger that is more damaging than helpful. Some people, in the face of taboo, distance themselves. It's so gross, and so beyond them to help, that it's easier to separate. Sometimes the shame was crippling it was easier for me to deal with it in silence.
It doesn't make it right. But I do understand.
I didn't want to apologize with an empty sorry- that so often people use like a magic wand. I didn't want to apologize for a life circumstance I couldn't control. But, I was sorry for all the years of anger I harbored towards this friend, and for the root of bitterness I felt towards my ex that eclipsed my decision making and guided my response towards others during that time.
There was healing in our exchange.
Some pain will always hurt, but it is possible find wholeness and be happy.
Some arguments with family can't be forgotten. Some choices I've made can never be undone. The distancing of friends will always hurt. But when I think of those same people now, I know there is trust and healing.
Instead of living in the past, I am confident in my present and hopeful for the future. And when I feel the pain of the past or become jealous of others having what I perceive I lost, I remember this promise: The Lord will fight for you and you will hold your peace.
So I turn to my family and my friends, I rejoice in our healing, celebrate their milestones, and I keep pushing forward.