A lot of people have hurt me over the years. I have many scars that I could point to and say, "Your words caused this, your actions drove the blade, your thoughtlessness made me bleed." Most of them I have forgiven, or am forgiving. I find that forgiveness is more of a continual choosing than a one-time decision, don't you? But which of these actions of which of these people shall I write about today?
Bradley and Katherine Menne keep springing to the top of the list. But which of the many ways that they have hurt me should I write about? What do I have yet to forgive them for? I know of their lies and the knives they twisted in my back. I know of the ways they tried to turn my friends from me. And while I may not have forgiven them for everything, still, their actions hold no power over me anymore. If anything it serves as a conversation topic between me and the people they failed to convince of my evilness.
Or perhaps my parents. After all, the way they raised me bordered on abuse, and the way they treated actual abuse caused me problems that I am still dealing with today. And I mean that literally. Today as in this exact moment. But I have said that I forgive them, and though it is a process that even years later I struggle with, I have forgiven them.
The most recent and painful ones are my two Loves. Yet, I have written about them before. And as much as I am able, I have forgiven them, though they have not asked and likely never will. To ask my forgiveness would be to admit that they have been wrong, and I do not see them doing that. Not for a long time, anyway.
I nicknamed the Dean of Women at my school the Great Satan, and she bears the name well. Whose idea was it anyway to give a position counseling girls, many of whom are in relationships, to a woman who hates men? I have not forgiven the Great Satan for what she did to me, nor for what she did to friends of mine. I do not see the need to. It causes me no harm to continue to hate her; on the contrary, every time I think about her I chuckle a little. How furious she would be if she knew! But then, she hated me as well. You should have seen her face the day she saw me in the choir loft, 8 months pregnant with a child conceived out of wedlock. If looks could kill, I probably would have burst into flames. And then she would have been upset about that, because pyrotechnics most definitely do not fit her idea of a good Baptist Sunday morning service. You see? She makes me smile.
But I think the person I need to forgive is my brother. He abused me and started this whole mess spinning. I was not depressed before that. My parents were not so quick to anger. I did not have self-esteem issues stemming from an adolescence of feeling guilty for being abused. In short, life was normal, as normal as life ever is for somebody who had been abused twice already before the age of ten. It is hard to forgive him because he does not think he has done anything wrong. To him what happened between us was no more serious than children playing "doctor." Almost two years ago I asked him why? Why had he abused me? And his answer was along the lines of "I thought you wanted it because of the stuff you did with <neighbor children> and <a cousin>." So I asked him, "So basically you're saying I was an 8-year-old slut?" And he replied something like, "Pretty much." To clarify, I was about four when we moved away from the neighbor children, so whatever happened with them happened when I was four years old or younger. And what happened? I do not know. I remember the event my brother is referring to, somewhat. To be precise, I remember before, and I remember after. But I have no idea what actually happened. Possibly my brother does, but it is not something I feel like asking him at this point in my life. The incident with my cousin I remember much more clearly, and though it was nonviolent and not even especially traumatizing (as much as such things can ever be non-traumatic), it is nothing that would give anyone cause to consider me an "8-year-old slut." It is so hard to forgive him. But unlike other people who I have not forgiven, I feel the need to do so. So there it is. I need to forgive my brother for abusing me, and for acting like doing so is no big deal.
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