“What cannot be said above all must not be silenced but written.”
― Jacques Derrida
What do you think of this statement? I know many things that cannot be spoken. Maybe certain things about my childhood. Maybe traumatic moments that bring back nightmares. Some of these things would be hurtful to people – people I’ve forgiven. Sometimes, I think what a great story these truths would make. I’ve written many of them down and when I go back and read them, I laugh out loud and snort and get so tickled I can’t stop myself. At others, I bawl like I’ve never cried before, as though I’ve lost my one true love, or as though I cry for another child that’s so hurt and so far away that I can’t get to her. That’s how I see my childhood now. I’m so far away from it. For me, once I reached (or rather grabbed onto for dear life) forgiveness, I became somewhat removed from my childhood, like I wasn’t that little girl anymore, unloved, thrown away like last week’s forgotten left overs. It doesn’t hurt me like it used to.
I had forgiven one who hurt me. I had forgiven and befriended. I learned how to understand how this person was raised and understand that all people are not the same, that some are unable to give what another needs. Some people are weak and afraid and don’t even know themselves, who they are, nor who they want to be. It takes great courage to change and grow into a taller person, into yourself, seeking more, looking for better, wanting to heal, wanting to make amends.
It takes less courage to forgive the person who hurt you. At least, it didn’t take that much for me. It just took me 39 or 40 years to learn how. Once I got a handle on it, it was easy. So easy, that I didn’t even realize I had done it until after a conversation. I realized somewhere in the middle of a 20 minute civil conversation with a tragic heart thief that I had forgiven him and it wasn’t even my intention. Or was it? Whatever it was, it became so easy after that. I was forgiving all over the place.
Then, I forgave the one who hurt me the most in my life, who warped me and wrecked my mind, who stole any chance of ever trusting another human, perhaps as long as I shall live (we’ll see). Once I began to try to understand this person’s horrific childhood (100% worse than mine, not that that even matters – it’s not a contest), and how this person was never shown love or respect, adoration or celebration, kindness or sympathy, a shoulder to cry on nor an ear to listen, I realized I could not withhold forgiveness. Everyone suffers. There are different levels of suffering. There are different layers in people and on these many varied layers, there may not be even an ounce of love to take or give, they may lack understanding, lack forgiveness themselves, or even utter ever a kind word to another, but they still need (maybe even deserve) our forgiveness.
I’m not going to turn this into a religious thing, as I’m not a religious person, although I’m tight with the Dudes Upstairs. Yeah, God and Jesus – they’re my family. But I have to speak on these Guys. I think of what God did for us by sending Jesus and why he sent him. I think of Jesus and why he came and what he did for each of us. He did it of his own free will. He could have caved. He could have been weak and given up on us. I can’t tell you that I would have done what he did for all of us. Sometimes, I think we are all worthless, we don’t deserve what Jesus did for us. When I think of all the rapists, child killers, demons that walk this earth that should be blown to bits (and I’d like to blow away several of these myself), I think we don’t deserve Jesus, we don’t deserve forgiveness or love or any of it.
But then I look into the eyes of my child. These eyes are windows to the soul of the one I most prayed for since I was 2 years old. This child was the answer to a lifelong prayer, with every quality I prayed for and more great qualities I never thought to pray for. When I see what a gift I was given, I saw, personally, and in my face, how much God and Jesus truly love me (and love and adore each of us). Later, I began to see how much each of us deserves to have a love like that in each of our lives. We all do deserve love. We all deserve forgiveness. It is not something we have ever or will ever earn (or can we?) but we deserve it, because to live without love and without forgiveness is not a life I would consider worth living. I used to feel hate/unlove for myself and didn’t want to live. Thank you, Father, for helping me to see things differently before I did something stupid and selfish.
If you don’t feel love for yourself or cannot forgive yourself, please know you are worth loving and you are worth forgiving. You truly are. You are special and unique and this world needs you and your gifts and talents, even if you don’t think you have anything to offer. You do. Every person out there that has hurt you also deserves to feel love and to be forgiven, and you don’t even have to tell them if you don’t want to. Let me tell you, once you forgive someone, it feels so amazing, it frees you, frees your soul. You then learn how to forgive yourself for your own stupidity and weakness and you begin to pull yourself out of the darkness. It’s an awesome feeling and I want that for you.
Have you forgiven yourself lately? Have you learned to love yourself? What about forgiven others? Do you realize everyone deserves to feel love?
Back to the original statement above, do you think the words we cannot even begin to say should be written? I’ve written much of my unspoken stuff down but I will probably burn it, because I don’t want to hurt anyone with the past. We are not our past. We build from the past. We learn from the past. We move on from the past. But we are not our past and we do not deserve to relive it nor cause others to relive it. Do you agree? I know the original statement means more than just this. It means many different things to different people, but this is what came to the front of my mind when I read it.
What are your thoughts?