Forgive Yourself
My leg is bouncing as Ashland takes a seat at the table across from me, the bright fluorescent lighting and people talking around us only amplifying my nervous energy. After my editor approved my final revisions, I sent it over to Ashland to approve. She hadn’t read any of it before then, and I’m a little terrified she hated it.
“So, you said you finished reading it? What did you think?”
“It wasn’t easy to get through,” she answers, giving me a sad smile. “But that is kind of the point, isn’t it? You told my story so well, it felt like I was living it all over again. You kept it real and raw, and I loved that. Anyone else would have felt the need to change the story or leave information out wanting to prove I was a victim, though it would only make me look less like one.”
My body relaxes into the metal chair as I let out a long breath. “I’m so happy to hear that. I’ve been so worried you would hate it. But it’s my hope your story will shine a light on the fact that not all sexual assault or abuse looks the same.”
Ashland nods as she gives me a smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile, and it makes my chest tighten. “Exactly. I knew you were the right person to tell my story.”
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing down the emotions bubbling up. “When I did my final read-through, I thought of one other question I wanted to ask you. Is that okay?”
She scoffs, shrugging. “I’ve told you every detail of the worst moments in my life, I think I can handle any question you throw at me.”
“Right.” I let out a nervous laugh, wiping my sweaty palms down my slacks as I clear my throat. “Well, you have Adrian, who loves you very much. Your life was going well. What do you think kept you from being able to let go of what happened?”
Ashland blinks, sitting back in her chair as she sighs. “That’s easy. I couldn’t forgive myself. Jim had apologized to me a couple times over the years. They weren’t sincere, and I didn’t forgive him, but not forgiving him wasn’t the issue. He didn’t deserve my forgiveness. The problem was I could never accept I hadn’t brought that hell upon myself. I couldn’t let go of the blame and responsibility I felt for what happened. I didn’t believe I deserved Adrian’s love, so I never really let him into my heart.” She pauses, using the end of her sleeve to dry up the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, then locks her stare on me. “You need to forgive yourself.”
“Excuse me?” I squeak.
“You don’t owe me your story, and I would never ask, but I know you have one. You captured my pain too well not to. But whatever it is—whatever that person did to you—you must forgive yourself. You must accept that no matter what you were wearing, what you did or didn’t say, it’s not your fault. Until you stop hating yourself for what happened to you, you won’t be able to let someone else love you.” Tears fall freely from my eyes, and my nose runs and chin quivers because I know she’s right. I’m the only person standing in the way of my happiness. “I like to think in another life, Adrian and I would have two kids—one girl and one boy. Both with A names so we could be that super annoying family. In that life, we live in a big house where we have lots of family gatherings. Adrian would be a successful businessman, allowing me to stay home focusing on my writing and raising our children. It’s a beautiful, happy life. But it’s not reality because I couldn’t open myself up to love. Don’t let the same thing happen to you.”
On my way home from visiting Ashland, I considered everything she said about forgiving myself. There’s no question I’ve harbored some self-blame all these years. Still, it never occurred to me that I might need to absolve myself of any responsibility I feel for the things Paul did to me before I could finally move on or heal. If I’m carrying this guilt, I’ll never believe I’m worthy of love. Especially not the love of someone as wonderful as Steven.
Steven. God, I walked away from him again. Left him standing in that parking lot alone, looking completely broken. I need to fix things with him, or at the very least apologize and explain myself. But there’s one thing I want to do first.
Sitting at my desk, I pull out a piece of stationary from my drawer then reach to pluck a pen from the cup sitting next to my desktop. My gaze moves to the window in front of me, looking out at the orange sky as I try to gather my thoughts.
My letter to Paul turned out to be very cleansing. Addressing all the ways he wronged me and letting out all the emotions I’d kept bottled up inside was like lifting a heavy weight off my chest and taking a breath of fresh air. So, I thought perhaps writing one to myself could have the same effect. Being open and honest with myself will likely prove to be incredibly hard, but it may be the only way I can see things as they truly are instead of how my shame portrays them.
Dear Lori,
I know what happened, and I forgive you.
You were eighteen and so desperate for affection, so needy for attention, you left yourself vulnerable to a predator. You wanted so badly to believe his lies and meaningless promises, knowing all along what they were. You could feel the heat from the fire, yet you kept walking toward it, because you were too afraid to turn back—too terrified of the darkness you’d be met with. Your weakness was like blood in the water, leading the shark right to you.
And yet, I forgive you.
You didn’t stand up for yourself, you didn’t fight back, you didn’t even accept the reality of what was happening. You stayed silent then, and you continue to stay silent now, letting him victimize you repeatedly with your silence. You chose your survival above all else.
You’ve done everything wrong from the start, and yet, I forgive you.
Did you get that? I. Forgive. You. It doesn’t matter anymore, those things you did or didn’t do. Let them go. Be free. Allow yourself to love and be loved in return. You are not the mistakes you’ve made or the terrible things that have happened to you. You are so much more, and you deserve so much more.
Let yourself be happy, I forgive you.
Love, Lori
Elvis starts barking at the pounding coming from my front door, his tail wagging back and forth as he runs to the door then back to me. My body is moving slow, emotionally and physically drained from spending several nights on the pullout bed in my grandmother’s hospital room. She’s in a rehab facility now, and insisted I come home to get some rest. Apparently, the person still knocking on my door has other ideas.
“Hold your horses,” I call as I round the couch, using it as support as I stumble. “I’m coming, geez.”
Once I get to the door and check the peephole, my pulse begins racing. Lori is standing on the other side. Her eyes red and wet, her mascara streaked down her face. The last time I saw her, she was running away from me again. Only this time, I hadn’t chased her. I wanted her to come to me for once, and here she is.
My body and mind suddenly feel energetic again as I rush to open the door. When we’re face to face, I fight the desire to pull her into my arms. My heart clenches at her disheveled appearance.
“Lori, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
She shakes her head, wiping under her eyes. “I’m not sure. Can I come in?”
I step back, gesturing for her to come inside. She looks down at her feet as she crosses the threshold, greeting Elvis with a kiss on the head and a scratch behind his ear as I close up behind her. She stands straight, turning to face me. Worry is painted all over her face, her hands fidgeting with her clothing as she shifts uncomfortably on her feet.
“So, I talked to Ashland today. She finished reading Illusions of Ash, and she loves it,” she says.
“That’s wonderful, Lori. So, why don’t you look happy?”
“Well, Ashland and I had a little talk and she made me understand something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I’ve been getting in the way of my own happiness because a part of me still believes I don’t deserve it. I’ve been punishing and blaming myself for so long, I don’t even realize when I’m doing it anymore. But I don’t want to hold on to all of that any longer. I’m ready to let go.”
“Okay…” I blow out a nervous breath and scratch my head. “What does all that mean? What are you saying?”
“Please don’t give up on me, and don’t let me give up on myself. I want to be your girlfriend. I want us to do all those corny and annoying things couples do. I want to be the person you rely on, and for you to be mine.”
“Really? But you said—”
“I know…all of this absolutely scares the hell out of me, but the thought of losing you scares me more. Despite my best efforts, I fell for you. I love you, Steven.” My stomach flips from her words, my heart swelling in my chest. She takes a timid step toward me. “Tell me I’m not too late.”
My lips spread across my face as I shake my head. “I’ve always known you were worth fighting for, you only needed to believe it,” I tell her, pulling her into my arms. “Now, you’re never getting rid of me.”
She giggles. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I say before placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “I love you too, Lori is Stevens.”
She laughs, playfully swatting my arm. “That’s disgusting,” she groans, rolling her eyes.
“You know you love it.”
Nodding, she grins as her eyes twinkle. “I know I love you.”