It is an absolute fact that I loathe the mother of my children. It’s not the best place to be in. I was taught to love everyone regardless of who they are or what they have done. I think that you can both loathe and love, but I’m not at “love” with her yet.
Have I forgiven her? Probably not. These reflections still exist - although no longer daily rants, they still exist. In “Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith” Anne Lamott writes,
“Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. You’re done. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to have lunch with the person. If you keep hitting back, you stay trapped in the nightmare…”
I guess I still hit back from time to time. When I hear mention of her boyfriend or others in her support group, I have to hold back. But, as one friend put it, ‘when there’s a bullet in the chamber, you wanna shoot it’. Will time allow me to forgive? Who knows. It is my obligation to do so, but I am obligated to do lots of things that I don’t do. I definitely don't want to have lunch with her!
What does time allow? Certainly productivity, adventure, education, growth, and so on. But grudges have no limit unless you force one on it. What about wounds. Does ‘time heal all wounds’? I was told things would get better and I didn’t believe anyone. But, things did get better. I laugh a lot now. I have more purpose in my life than I’ve had in ages now. I am more productive than ever. I’m healthier. Then things happen - I walk down a familiar street, smell a familiar smell, taste a familiar taste and get a brief flood of memory that causes me to be very aware of those scars.
I recently read an article by Peter Walker about a condition called “takotsubo syndrome”. He writes,
“Songwriters, poets and novelists have long mused over whether time truly heals everything.
Charles Dickens toyed over whether the bitter Miss Haversham would ever recover from being jilted at the altar, and for many historians, Queen Victoria's black dress came to symbolise her irreparable suffering over Prince Albert's death.
But a new study has apparently put their agonising to bed and concluded that not even the clock can always mend a broken heart.
A team of medical researchers from the University of Aberdeen have said that so-called "broken heart syndrome" can leave physical scars that never recover.”
“…It is provoked when the heart muscle is suddenly "stunned", causing the left ventricle to change shape, and is typically prompted by "intense emotional or physical stress".
This time last year, I was on a bit of a high. I thought she was coming around and that things were gonna work out. This is her birthday month. Like the ache I feel in my once broken wrist when there is a change in the weather - that’s what it’s like when something like this pops up, when “I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees - And misty memories of days gone by - We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow - And how can you mend a broken heart?”
Again, I’m fine. I still loathe her. I’m just sad that it had to come to that: an end to love; an end to family; an end to “us”; and end to friendship; an end to adventure…but I’ll get over it tomorrow and “live again.”