“There is in us, an instinct for newness, for renewal, for a liberation of creative power. We see to awaken in ourselves a fore which really changes our lives from within. And yet the same instinct tells us that this change is a recovery of that which is deepest, most original, most personal in ourselves. To be born again is not to become someone else, but to become ourselves” – Thomas Merton, Love and Living.
I once asked my therapist if I will ever remember the first time – the first time I was forced to endure a past life regression and tucked away into the corners of my mind. I wanted to know if I had to go back and do something to jolt my memory, and ask is this the truth or is it a lie? She, very calmly, looked over at me, and answered, “It’s not that important to remember, it’s more important to forgive yourself, to reconcile those emotions.” I had no clue what she meant.
You see, I have had no platform, no exchange of hurts, no cord to cut, to free myself from intrusive thoughts that I could shout down at my memory. I remember who you are. I can’t face you, you have no face, and I am not ready to forgive you. I don’t want to forgive you. You, who hurt me, who betrayed my trust. You are the lie looking back at me, through the looking-glass.
You made me afraid. You, who broke my heart. I always knew that someday I would see you again, because for too long I questioned if you really happened, and I know you did. I saw your shadow in the looking-glass. That frightening place, where you would like to deny the real potential of the looking-glass, the reflective element of the unspoken, one that blocks the storm that rages within you.
Did you see yourself? Did you forget when you let my heart speak, and you heard my spirit whisper for you to go away? Did you hear me? Did you look into the mirror, more than once? Or did your shadow just lay in darkness?
I don’t forgive you, and I forgive myself for it. I will stop letting you hurt me. My forgiveness belongs to me. I forgive myself for being a little defenseless child. I forgive myself for refusing to remember who you are. I forgive myself for the pain you caused me. I forgive myself as I look into the looking-glass……….because the reflection I see is me. So much is being debated, and I see my own struggle, and I reconcile my self-worth, my divine power as in the God of my understanding. That is who I see, when I look again, in the looking glass. I see me. Why is it brave when men come forward after so many years, to speak about what was done to them as little boys at the hands of that Catholic priest. No one doubts them. We are just as brave, we were young girls who were victims of an abuse we didn’t understand. Why are such events viewed differently? Does anyone have an answer? I guess I will run it by my therapist………She’ll know.