Of forgiveness and boundaries

I'll tell you the thing about forgiveness  - it's not easy. For someone especially, who has a strong sense of self, the harder it becomes to withstand bullshit. You tend to call people out. While it may not make you a crowd favourite, you stood up for yourself, or a loved one, and it's what matters.

I recently had a conversation about forgiveness and how I have allegedly turned into someone who finds it hard to put incidents behind. It could be true, but how do I erase episodes from the recesses of my mind? It's not the act or the words of the episodes that are etched after eons, it's the feelings I felt. The hurt, the betrayal, the hopelessness; the helplessness. How can I forget when I couldn't speak to him for almost three months, not knowing where he was or what had happened? All we received were messages through friends and extended family. We craved to know the truth  - if he could speak to them, why not us? What had we done to deserve that? Did he not trust us? The desperation. The anxiety. The cluelessness of it all; until it crashed down upon us.

How can I forget the times she invited me over specifically despite my evasion and served me burnt food? Or when she invited me home to complain and criticise and whispered to her husband behind my back not to let him in? It infuriated me. How can I forget the incessant nagging, criticism and reproach for nothing? The humiliation. How can I forget her treating my dearest badly? How could she ask him to leave when he was critically ill? How could she not feel for her own? It infuriated me again. And when she attacked me, it was an outburst that was imminent. Can you blame me for it? It had to be done. Can I now put it behind me? I've tried, but sometimes, those feelings are still real. They still anger you. What's wrong is wrong, and two wrongs here don't make a right.

These people were supposed to be your own, your people. But they made you feel lesser, guilty, the assailant, when it wasn't even about you. All they ever did was put you down. Did I mention, how he also once said, "Don't use ya, it's rude; say yes instead'. That's rude, but fuck apparently is polite. The unfairness of it.

Childhood scars take the longest to heal, contrary to what we believe about time healing all wounds. It's because the child lives with those feelings believing that it's what she/he deserves when it really isn't even about them. They cop the blame and live in the guilt injected with shame.

I've understood now, over the course of my 30 years, how important boundaries are. For friends, family, spouses, colleagues, acquaintances or anybody else in your life. The importance of which is so underrated that we don't realise the impacts of until much later.

Now the boundaries are walls, impenetrable, reeking of indifference. It doesn't hurt anymore to let go. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. And if you leave me to my own devices, I'm pretty satisfied with who I surround myself with. It affects my energy. I didn't have a choice earlier. I have one now, and I choose wisely. It's easy for anyone on the outside, my boyfriend even, to judge my apparent antipathy, but you never understand what someone feels until you're in their shoes and walked in them for miles.

Even at some point, say you fit their shoes, the journey still will never be yours.