A few years ago, when my dad died, my family blew up. My mother made a decision regarding life support, and a sibling panicked. In fear and desperation this sibling repeatedly attacked the rest of the family over the course of the next year and a half, then dodged responsibility for the destruction, and now has become almost completely estranged, even moving to another state.
I know I should forgive this person, because everything you hear about not forgiving is bad. Selfishly, it would probably be healthy for me to do so. I even wondered if I might have gotten sick from harboring this caustic anger. Stupid thought, I know. It’s just biology, chemistry, genetics. But you wonder if there’s a connection, because I have been the angriest of all of my family.
However, when I consider forgiveness (which, I should point out, has not been requested by this abuser), I feel like I’m on the verge of slipping backwards, to the bad old days. To forgive would be an act of self-negation.
Let me explain. For most of my life, I put up with – indeed, took care of and nurtured – mean and abusive people. It’s what I learned, growing up in a well-meaning but misguided family. I was taught to try to see the good in everyone, to forgive, to rise above pettiness. These are high-minded standards. Throw in a lot of Catholic-style guilt and you have a pretty good recipe for becoming a door mat. I grew up thinking that if you had a sadness or heartache or tragedy in your life, hell, that was practically a claim ticket that you could bring to my door and cash in for nurturing, love, and monetary support!
Around the time I turned forty, due to maturation and the love of a good man, I started figuring out that I was as good as anybody else, and I began to value myself as much as I do others. At first it was really hard! I felt mercenary. Calculating. But I progressed, and now I’m healthy. Therefore, to accept abuse makes me feel like I’m going back to the bad old days, and rejecting all that I learned.
My Dad always said “family is everything.” I’m struggling with the thought that he may have been wrong.
I think instead that love is everything, and light, and positivity, and support, and kindness. That’s where I go these days, toward the company of those who love me and treat me well. In recent weeks I’ve clung to the love of the rest of my family, and my friends, and the people I don’t even know very well who have opened their hearts to me. I know this is what will help me heal, and I believe this is what I need for all the rest of my life.
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