Preface:

This is probably the most difficult thing I have written in my life. I realized two things after I wrote this – I am writing and posting from a place of strength and I did not do anything wrong.

One of my dearest friends says to me, “You have to let it go.” So, I must, and how I must is to forgive. By forgiveness I am not being held back and I feel a part of me has always been held back.

We begin:

Old lives are like an old carpet having the dirt beat out of it. When the dirt settles, you sweep it up, but as always it leaves behind a faint dusting, an outline of an image.

You blink once – it is gone; you blink again and it appears.

It is up to you which one you chose to see and be –

This is my attempt to allow my dust to settle and see what will be.

I have many years left in me.
I am building my momentum
One step,
One beat,
One smile,
And one hug at a time.

Dear Mom and Dad (Papa),

I forgive you for not knowing more than perhaps you could.

I forgive you for trying your best and honestly your best was not good enough at times.

I thank you for knowing when you did.

I thank you for seeking help before my diagnosis and how you kept seeking help even though you were turned away often.

I thank you for feeding me and the countless hours you kept trying.

I forgive you, Mom, for saying you couldn’t do this anymore when I was so sick, so you called my doctor and said, “Please take her.”

I forgive you, Mom, that during that week as you handed me over you said you didn’t, couldn’t come visit me; essentially abandoning me. But, I thank you for handing me over to caring people. I understand you did your best and it was all just too much at times.

I thank you, Dad, for visiting me when you did and you could during that week.

I thank you both for not giving up – period.

I forgive you, Mom, for the loudness of your voice and anger. It lived within me for years. I am not afraid of you. I haven’t been afraid of you for years. You never broke me. I became better and fiercely stronger because of you.

I forgive you for not truly stopping when Todd sexually molested me. I remember with sharp clarity when you asked me, Mom.  I was sitting atop of the toilet seat, my feet grazing the floor, kicking them back and forth, not quite able to place them flat on the ground. I remember watching you putting your mascara on and then you asked me – I said, “No.”

I lied.
I thought I could handle it.
I was scared.
I was mostly scared of you, Mom.
I forgive that too.

I thank you both for believing me when I told you.

I forgive, Todd. I never felt ill towards him. He was an unwell person. He did not have an easy life, how much known or not. He was just a child when things went badly for him. I hope you forgive him as well.

I forgive you the countless times you lied to me.
I forgive you for the slamming of doors and cupboards. For the angry looks that meant death.
I forgive you for being unkind.
I forgive you the 8 years of arthritis I had for the suffocation I felt inside. For all the tears when I couldn’t move. I thank you for helping when I couldn’t get up, the heating pads, calls into school, and the Advil.

I forgive you for all the long term aliments I have in my bones and joints I have because of my arthritis.
I forgive you for not really getting me the true help I needed for my bad knees falling out of joint countless times because of incessant inflammation in and around my joints.

I forgive you for going through my things at home. Reading things that were not meant for your eyes and I forgive you for reading my words back to me –

I forgive you for abandoning me a second time when you sent me up north during my junior year in high school.
I forgive you for all the unkindness you were towards Debbie.
I forgive you for the unkindness you were towards Stacy.
I forgive you for sending me to live with a family that was unwell and needed their own help.
I forgive you for not knowing any better.
I forgive you for the constant threats of what you were going to do next –

I forgive you for the deep depression I found myself in while living up north, but I found my way out.
I thank you that at such a young age I found out who my best friend was – and that would be me.

I forgive you for locking me out of the house and taking my key away, twice. That home no longer was mine but how I learned that I could indeed create my own peace and calm if I was peaceful and calm inside.

I forgive you for the name calling.
I thank you because I never name-call to this day.

I thank you for teaching me that sense that others struggle in this world and you never know until you walk in their shoes. That has never been lost on me.

I forgive for the how hard you made it my college years because of my sudden abrupt of changing of schools. My grades, credits, and lack of consistency consequently made me work harder than I needed. It was then I got my first taste of letter writing; speaking up for myself in a professional setting.

I thank you because my will and strength will succeed no matter what is in front of me.

I forgive you for going through my things in my own apartment and stealing from me.

I am sorry your mother treated you so horribly, Mom. I am sorry for the hurt and anger you felt for so many years. You did not deserve that cruelty.
I forgive you allowing that anger to stir and settle into our home.
I forgive you for making my life so much harder than it needed to be.
I thank you – because there isn’t anything I can’t do as long as I have my health and my heart.

I forgive you for not accepting that I am a lesbian.
I forgive you for not accepting, Sheila.
I forgive you that when I told you Sheila and I were engaged you quickly changed the subject and never spoke of it again.

I forgive you for abandoning me a third time by cancelling plans last minute when we had been making plans for 2 months. I was flying home to Minnesota and we planned to meet, even possibly visit the house I hadn’t seen in 10 plus years. I forgive you for acting coy. I forgive you for not picking up the phone or returning my calls. I forgive you for the empty silence you gave me as I flew back home, leaving me in shock once again. I forgive you for probably lying about the reasons, and never truly correcting that wrong.

I forgive you for not telling me grandpa passed.

I forgive you for the many times you hurt me. Hurt me so much it hurt to speak or move. I forgive you because you were also hurt.

I want you to understand that I am not a lesbian because I was sexually abused and you may feel that you failed from stopping it. Life is. One does not have anything to do with the other. I was born this way. I knew as young as 6 years old.

I want you to know I never blamed you for having CF, even though I believe you think I do or did. I never had anger towards you for giving me CF. Never crossed my mind twice.

I thank you for the countless times your laugh, Mom, echoed in and throughout our home. It is a force that combatted all the hurt you felt inside.

I thank you, Dad, for the tireless kindness you shown throughout the years.

I want you to understand – everything and anything has made me who I am.

I thank you for the strength, a light that carries me each day that I don’t understand completely but I take it in and accept it as much as humanly possible. It can and only be from the whole in which it has made me.

I forgive you.
I hope you both can forgive yourself for any and all of it.