Finding Myself - Healing Through Acknowledgement And Forgiveness

“Yes,” I replied, doing my best to appear as nonchalant as possible.

She paused for a few seconds, regarding me with a strange curiosity. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper, “When did she say this to you?”

“When? Almost everyday,” I scoffed.

The strange look never left her face, we regarded each other for a brief while, and then she spoke again, “Do you know what that is? That is abuse. Emotional abuse that can traumatize you and stagnate you for life.”

I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. She didn’t know the full story. I was a trouble child. I stole. I stole money when I didn’t even know what to do with it, stole food when I wasn’t hungry. And I lied. I was lazy, a fool, so very unlike any of my siblings. I was odd and stupid. I had failed my high school exams, not just failed, I had woefully failed. My Mama had had to bail me out of jail once. I preferred the company of strangers to my own family. And the devil in me was telling me to go stand on the train tracks.I was bad. I deserved the screams in my face that left me covered in spittle. I invited the slaps from my Mama and siblings, so much so that my Mama always ignored, heck she sometimes encouraged it, when my siblings beat me. Abused? No.

My parents were perfect. Sister Feeley didn’t know. My Daddy was well learned. He knew and spoke of a lot of things. My Mama was pious and without blemish. She even once told me she didn’t agree with Jesus on his take on the Pharisee’s prayer, “If I’m glad I’m not like my sisters, I should be able to say it.”

Abuse? My family. No way. Child abuse as I’d been taught in junior high school referred to those kids whose fingers were burnt with fire, who were forced to work in cocoa farms and quarries and denied education. Those who were forced on dangerous fishing expeditions and sometimes starved to death. That was abuse. Me? Abused? No way.

“Would you like to meet from time to time and talk. I can help counsel you,” she said.

“No. I”m fine,” I said. I really didn’t think I needed counseling, nothing was wrong with me.

“Go find a book on emotional abuse from the library and educate yourself,” she said.

I went to the library, to find a book on compilers. I had an exam the next day.

In 2003 I wasn’t ready. But in 2009, I was fully ready. When I was privileged to make the acquaintance of a gym instructor who happened to be a clinical psychologist, who became my friend, I opened up a tad bit.

He said, “You can’t heal what you don’t acknowledge. Tell yourself the gut-wrenching truth, your truth. Sit in that acknowledgment, pray it even. It is the only way we can begin to unpack this so you can heal. And it is the only was you can work towards forgiveness”

“I was an emotionally and physically abused child who has become an emotionally stagnated adult and career woman. I am a time bomb of fury waiting to explode. I am a carefully carved exterior of calm and collectedness. But inside I am near dead, struggling to feel any sense of worth. I am in constant need of validation, anyway I can get it. I need help. I need to learn forgiveness, to let go and live.”

Professional help has been an undeniable resource. Nothing beats perspectives and guidance from a trained professional, directing your healing and promoting your growth.

Acknowledgment And Forgiveness Are Undeniable Steps

Forgiveness. The action or process of forgiving or being forgiven.

I forgive myself for everything I did when I was in a place of survival.

I forgive you for teaching me shame. For highlighting my faults and downplaying my strenghts.

I forgive you for dimming my light, persistently and intentionally disrespecting me and for stealing my voice.

I forgive you for putting stinky cheese in my mouth and turning round to complain of my stinky breathe.

I forgive you for bullying me when you should have protected me from bullies.

I forgive you for trying to change my God-given nature to suit your expectations.

I forgive you for projecting your fear on me.

I forgive you for silencing my enquiring mind.

I forgive you for judgement instead of direction.

I forgive you for scapegoating me, for venting your frustrations on me and making me pay for your life choices.

I forgive you for knocking out cold my self-esteem, self-respect and self-acceptance.

I forgive you for not knowing, for not understanding.

I forgive you for creating my tears and forbidding my weeping.

I forgive you because you’re human, perfect in your imperfection.

I choose forgiveness you because I need to release this poison.

I forgive you because I need forgiveness myself. And I now understand this forgiveness is really truly for my own benefit.

I forgive you for not seeing my beautiful.

I forgive you because I believe you did the best you knew how.

I chose the higher, less traveled road; forgive, do not ask for an apology you are likely never going to get. This was for me, not for them. I was doing this for me so I could become a better version of myself, because I deserved it, because I was worth it. I was doing it to find inner peace, to stop inhibiting my own happiness at my own expense; I was doing it because the poison I was drinking in hopes someone else would die was killing me.

I gave myself permission to hurt, to cry. I gave my heart permission to break. I revoked self-pity’s license. I denied myself permission to feel numb. And when I was done crying, I said to myself, “This is it. You shall mourn the lost little girl no more. She is not here, she did not die. She is a grown woman now.”

Progress did not happen overnight. It took time and patience. It took many slips here and there. Gradually the layers came off; self-doubt, self-pity, anger, bitterness and shame; they all fell off. Self-acceptance woke from her decades old slumber and sat down, she brushed the dust off her purse and handed me a pair of lenses; I could see clearly now, those I was so very convinced were out to hurt me had demons of their own. It was not me, it was them. It was not them it was life. Forgiveness and empathy replaced scorn and judgement .

Maybe someday, I will grow enough, be graceful and kind enough, to be able to sit and ask, “why did that have to be the path you chose to travel with me?”

But for now, how about I tell myself different:

I am kind.

I am empathetic.

I am respectful.

I am loyal.

I am dependable.

I am intelligent.

I am smart.

I am a gem. Rare. Beautiful. Mesmerizing.

I am extremely talented.

I am me. Only one of me. Unique. Before me there has not been another and after me, there will be none. I am one of a kind.

I finally swore off one-sided, worthless relationships. And began to learn to love myself with passion and intention.

I am nobody’s convenience. I am planned date nights. I am a movie booked in advance. I am thoughtful gestures and long walks. I am phone calls and text messages. I am home cooked dinners and family time. I am cuddles and quality time. I am kisses on the forehead and French kisses. I am beautiful babies and a loving home. I am a queen.

Another graduation, second degree. My husband said, “I am a lucky man. Congratulations”

Self-acceptance finally stood up. She slipped on a regal purple dress and tied her hair in a bun. She slipped on sky-high boots and painted her lips jungle red. She twirled in front of my mirror and struck a confident pose, “I’ve got my mojo back. Keep listening to your inner voice, it does us both good.”

The still, soft, small voice said, “how about you tell your story?”

They told me I was ugly, so I went looking for my beautiful, and on that journey to finding myself, I met her in a muddy pond. And like a lotus flower, I bloomed from the mud. I found myself and I shall hold on to her, to me, to the beauty I see.

You too can heal. Recognize the need, acknowledge the need and make the effort, that is all it takes.