Dear
__________,
This is a letter that is long
overdue. I honestly didn’t realize how
much my actions had impacted you and how my lack of awareness resulted in me
saying and doing things that were hurtful.
That this went on for so long is just a sign of how much I needed to
grow and mature and become more self-confident. I placed unrealistic expectations,
over-the-top demands, and unfair judgments onto your actions. I punished you for trying and failing—and for
succeeding. But now, in the face of new lessons learned, old lessons
reinforced, and in the midst of a renewing Christmas Spirit I need to say how
sorry I am for how I hurt you. Sorry for
how I abdicated my role as an emotionally mature and stable to adult to outside
forces and for the manner in which I reacted rather than observed and used
words like wrong or unfair or guilt or shame when I should have stayed silent
and just watched without reaction.
I have
always had a suspicion that my efforts to grow would lead me to this
action. They say somewhere in one of
those famous steps you are supposed to write letters of apology to those you
have hurt. I understand now why that is
such an important step, but also why it is so difficult. Even to know that you need to is the product
of experiences and learning and crying and feeling so lost in the blackness
that you wonder if there will ever again be light, much less a way out.
However,
even in the books, they do not tell you to whom the first letter apology is
owed. They cannot tell you. That is a
realization which must be lived. It can only be known in those places in your
heart and soul where you feel truth. The
places the poet touches or the cello player in a cathedral or that are seen in
the deep blue lingering flame of a Christmas Candle. It is in those caverns where the stalactites
are records of ancient truths known but forgotten. Truths that reveal that the person we harm so
greatly—the person who we punish more often and more harshly than any other—is
ourselves.
It is only
our own light that we so often snuff out for a moment or a lifetime in the face
of fear and sadness and longing. It is
only our own lamp over which we throw a sheet, hoping the neighbors don’t
notice the cobwebs and the debris and the decay. It is only our own potential that we wrap in
paper and hide in the back of the freezer like stolen gains of a long ago bank
heist. But, if we are lucky we come to
learn that our light is not meant to be hidden.
If we are to be true to who we are—whose we are—our light must be
allowed to fill up our own house and be shared with the world.
Only then,
when we accept these truths can we know the purpose we have and the role we
must fulfil. Only then will we feel—in
those corners of our soul—the most important message of all: “I may be hurt, but I am not harmed”—lost
from our childhood is the lesson that the monsters under the bed are not
real. Instead of living through that
power, we too often move the monster out from under the bed into every other
part of our lives. And, fearing that we
shall be destroyed or disappointed, we try so very hard to hide from all the places
the monster may lie. Slowly, our worlds become full of monsters—and the tsunami
of fear overflows everything in its path—most of all—peace. So whenever we think we are in the midst of
the thing that will do us harm- we defend, we “fight” and we react—just the
same as the five year old at the parent’s door begging to not have to return
alone to the scary blackness of his room. Little does he know how much he will
laugh in later years at the story, or how we will repeat the same actions in
different ways while wearing a suit and tie with framed souvenirs of success on
his walls. Only the names of the
monsters really change.
Why can the
monsters not harm us—whether five or thirty five? Whether under the bed, in the boardroom or
sitting across from us on valentine’s day ending a relationship that never
existed in the first place? Because none of it matters. Not one single solitary bit. Does that make it right that someone is rude
or insensitive—no. Does it make it okay
they use you or don’t call you back or that they will never treat you the way
you deserve. No. But it is something we cannot
change. The only hope we can have is to change our reaction to it. If we latch on and cling to the injury the
wound will never heal. If we let it pass
over us like the crashing wave, stop the fight and the bitter longing for
control, we will bob along till the next one, and all those after. And maybe, we will create an environment in
which our awareness and the other persons can grow. Either way, to fight and claw and stammer and
stop has no good outcome, no matter what monster, no matter what age.
But, whom do
we punish most of all with our reactive, judging selves. Our inability to let go. The answer has been this
year’s greatest Christmas Gift. To learn
that I have punished myself far too harshly, judged my actions—built my own
castle of shame. Failed to love who I
must love first. And from that unwise
step, I have set myself up for so many tragedies, big and small. The stories of legend. Not of a superhero saving the kingdom. But of a king who nearly burned his own
castle down, without so much as single arrow from the black knight to show for
the battle.
I suppose I
do owe an apology or thank you to more than a few other people. I was often too demanding in my expectations,
especially when their awareness was different than mine. When their actions failed to meet my
expectations, rather than show love, I reacted—hurt and wounded like a sorry
animal. Rather than open and observant
like a human. I am learning now. I will try to do better. But to those of you who pushed me along the
path, I must also say that I am not saying I was wrong for not ending up with
you. I was only unwise in how I reacted to the lesson and experience you
offered. Perhaps if I had been
different, things would have turned out different. Or, perhaps, if you had acted differently,
been more understanding with me, then things would have been different. Who knows?
For the past, is past.
In this
moment I am focused on myself. On
forgiving me for what I have done.
Trying to move forward in a place of peace and awareness and looking at
things much more simply. Does it help me
be the better me, then it is something I should do or continue. If it does not, then I must let it go. That is what our life requires—to clean out
the junk and the clutter of our heart and spirit so that the sun may shine in
and so that we may shine out.
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