There are a few times in my life over which I still carry much grief.
Some events I’ve moved on from, and some, I can’t seem to shake completely.
Things that haunt me. Things that no longer make me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut but hit a tender spot for sure.
I look at the ones from which I can’t unstick and follow the common thread – thinking that if I can figure out why I can’t let go, then maybe I will be able to.
The ones that still won’t heal are the ones in which there was a loss of trust.
Betrayal. A lack of integrity. And misunderstanding of who I am as a person.
I still feel wronged by something I got in trouble for when I was 17. I don’t even remember what the punishment was but I was innocent of the crime and I still want to say to my mom, “That was unjust. I didn’t deserve that.”
Unjust. That’s another piece of the pieces that I grieve.
Around these incidents, time periods, in each situation, I have felt as if I’m being treated unjustly.
As if my side of the story wasn’t heard, or that it even mattered.
And the result of a couple of these incidences involved loss of community.
And a lack of accountability.
I hate being the victim. It is a very unbecoming trait.
And yet, there are times when I do feel like I deserved better. Does admitting that make me a victim?
The loss of friends has been brutal. The loss of trust even more so.
There two of these pivotal moments in time that have been sort of in my face recently and I woke up this morning feeling sad. I wrote for a while, trying to sift through the layers down to what it is that I need to let go of, what I need to be able to do that, and what, ultimately, do I want as the end result.
I read this thing this morning about regret. Basically, it said that having true, honest regrets is a good thing, a healing thing, a way to move forward and basically, do things differently in your life.
I have regrets, for sure. Amongst other moments in time, I regret that I couldn’t manage to handle these situations better.
I wish that my emotions didn’t run amok when I feel misunderstood.
Being treated unkindly, disrespectfully, and not having a voice…those things cause me to raise my voice.
And those are the same damn things that still cause me to fester.
The biggest thing is that I really don’t know how to interact with certain folks.
There’s a desire to let bygones be bygones, to fall back into ease and comfort and laughter.
Move forward, put the past behind, hang out and just enjoy each other’s company like we used to.
But it’s not possible. You can’t go back to what was because it’s not what was anymore, it’s what is.
And what is feels all kinds of cattywampus.
In other words, I am missing the friendships that I thought we had before I understood what kinds of friendships they actually were.
They were fun, relationships, not bad ones, which is why I really miss them, but they weren’t what I thought, at least not at the level of what I desire in a true friendship.
I have forgiven. I think.
But forgiving doesn’t mean that there is no more sadness or pissiness. It doesn’t mean that all personal interaction from this point forward is jovial and warm.
And, according to Desmond Tutu, forgiving doesn’t mean that you have to have a relationship with the other person.
So forgiveness, yes.
I just don’t know.
2 thoughts on “Residual Pain”
Oddly one of the hurtful things that has left some sort of pain (not great) was when my parents in their 30’s (and I was probably 4) were so excited that friends from Iowa were coming to visit them in Rochester, NY. They hung out a blanket with an Iowa University “I” on it and waited. The “friends” never came or called. That was a hurt/disappointment that has stayed with me. Gaslighting before there was the word.
Wow, terrible “friends.” Your parents must have been devastated. I hope your parents had the wherewithal to end that friendship!