Difficult Truths and Learning to Forgive

Since my return to New England and my family, I’ve begun to face some difficult truths.

I have returned to a closed family system. I am as shut out as I was when I lived a continent away. This should not be surprising, as it is the pattern down through the generations. Once on the outside, always on the outside. I’ve reached the conclusion that trying to change it would be unproductive, cause permanent damage to already fragile egos and relationships, and place unnecessary stress on myself. Accept it and do my best. Form new relationships that will make up for the lack of family intimacy.

I’m working to accept that my family shows no understanding or compassion toward me, my life, or the various situations I find myself in. It is all my fault, my doing, and I should put up with it or shut up. Beating myself up isn’t a bad idea either. I’m the one everyone loves to compare him/herself to because they will always come out on top.

With the exception of my parents, I am an integral part of no one’s life. After they die, this will be even more the case. As far as my family goes, I am here for two reasons: to spend more time with my parents in their final years, and to deal with matters regarding Camp, the family summer home. Camp is the one and only thing that will keep me communicating with anyone in my family after my parents die.

The abuse that I experienced early in life, partially at the hands of a family member, has shaped my life and patterns of interaction in some unfortunate ways. Nothing is going to change that. Again, something I can work to accept without liking it.

Perhaps I needed to be away for so long so that I could face these truths without totally going over the edge – and to say this: I returned so that I could learn to forgive. I have spent too much of my life in anger, bitterness and resentment, shutting people out and missing out in ways I can hardly imagine. To truly learn to forgive, I need to start with the earliest, and most horrendous, wrongs of my life. I’ve returned to face them, stare them down, and accept them without becoming a victim again.

A couple of caring people have pointed out to me recently that I have faced less than ideal conditions in the past few months. Nothing like stating the obvious, but their point is that I need to stop being so hard on myself. I’m doing my best. When the wind howls in my face it is not my doing. The best thing I can do for myself is to be good to myself, even with others aren’t – especially when they aren’t. I can treat myself with the understanding and compassion that I should get from my family but do not. And I can do that while forgiving them. Therein lies any future I may have.

On not being Dumped by God

For me right now, things are seem as bad as they ever have. In many ways, it appears as if God brought me back here to New England from California and dumped me. Family relationships are strained, my job is not going well and will probably end soon, my living situation isn’t great, and I haven’t established new relationships here yet and suffer from grinding loneliness. Plus, the weather has been just awful this winter.

As hard as it is, as depressed as I get sometimes – even bordering on suicidal - as hopeless as things seem in terms of my family, my career, and the possibility of ever getting married again, I know that spring is coming. I have found a church that I like. It’s vital and alive. One of its ministries is the Stephen Ministry, a peer counseling program. Stephen Ministers receive many hours of training to minister one on one, helping those going through difficult times. I’ve met twice with my Stephen Minister, and both times she has said that she doesn’t believe God brought me back here to dump me. I have to believe that too. I do believe it, even the midst of incredible negativity. I hold on to this belief with all I have, because right now it is the best I have, and I believe it comes from God.

I hardly know what to call this belief. Ray of hope, beacon of light, bright spot down the tunnel – none of those phrases quite work. It has less to do with light than with substance. It is more like rock than light. I can almost touch this thing, it’s so solid. Here is the KJ version of Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” This faith is like a super hard polished stone that bounces enough reflected light back into my downtrodden spirit to move through another day without giving up despite all the messages coming from various quarters that I’m just not good enough. Those messages can’t penetrate this stone of faith.

Hear this: I am not giving up. And even if I sound like I am, I’m not.