Forgiveness Came Too Soon

Another night sees me up late filled with inspiration to do so many things. My body is tired, it’s the school year, I’m always tired. While I’d like to say that I’m staying up in order to be productive with my thoughts, I’m honestly just waiting for the season premiere of Saturday Night Live. Besides Ryan Gosling hosting, I am madly in love with Kate McKinnon. While I wait through the late news, I know that there is much that I want to say tonight. It’s a mystery as to why I’m so inspired every night when I’m too tired to do anything about it. I wake up without a shred of the same inspiration that nearly keeps me up some nights. Exercising and eating right and making myself healthy again are in my thoughts on a nightly basis. Do better tomorrow! Wake up and make the most of your second chance! Just do it! It just doesn’t work on me anymore.

But what really doesn’t work for me, is the forgiveness I gave my father so soon after he rejoined my life after being absent for 16 years. Whisking my mother away on a charter bus to be his assistant while he drives groups of school kids and senior citizens around the United States seemed like an awesome adventure for them. They are happy together now, they divorced in 2000 and married my now former step-parents. Forgetting the meaning of wedding vows, they divorced their spouses and got an apartment together. Forgiveness came so easy for my mother, he’s a changed man, he’s truly sorry for what he did to us. Sixteen years of hating him and feeling bitterness when he came up in a conversation, she forgave him. I did too. They came to visit for several days last summer. It felt nice having my parents together again. It was like we just went straight from my high school graduation to the present. Old times. Same dad jokes and everything.

Then my anxiety began to take over in a way that I haven’t seen in a long time. I’ve never been able to say what I’m thinking. My husband can say something off color and in the past, I would simply stew about it and get upset slowly rather than call him out for his comment. Lately, the same type of comment will bring me to tears in an instant. It wasn’t a hard decision to start seeing a therapist. Mental health medication can’t solve every problem. Learning to cope with what medicine doesn’t fix was of interest to me. Several sessions of counseling later and I am at a loss for what to feel now. I can’t handle talking to my mother now. There are frequent texts of pictures and exciting things that they are seeing on their travels. And here I sit, feeling hurt about the distant past and growing up with these two people who were hands-off in their parenting. Who were absolutely ill-equipped to treat their daughter with respect. Who now wish to put that past behind them and be happy now, in the moment.

And still I sit, knowing that I’m not as fine with it as I had resigned myself to be. I forgave him too soon and I never thought I would need to forgive my mother, but I do. But not now. The pain has returned, the hurt is fresh again, and texting when I feel better, as my mother said, is not going to be next week. I hope she’s ready, because I’m not. The journey that I thought I had finished has started again. Wish me luck, therapy isn’t easy, triggers have already emerged, but I have to see it through. And I will.

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