forgiveness

I listened to a podcast this weekend. Sunday afternoon, to be exact. I don’t usually listen to this podcast. 

The host mentioned a letter her mom had written to her. Her mom had framed it for her as a gift. 

I wasn’t sure about this podcast. It’s not one I subscribe to, but it’s on my radar. The title of the episodes don’t  have anything to do with the subject. 

The mother’s gift to her daughter was a list of knowledge. 

The host read the list aloud, taking the time to further explore each nugget. The very first thing on the list was about forgiveness. Forgiveness is not for the other person. It’s for you. By not forgiving this person, they own you. 

After my world was shaken like a snow globe and I was shattered and destroyed. After I reached out to my hearts and they wrapped their words around me. After I questioned reality and my very own existence. I remembered the words from earlier in the day and said this over and over again in my head... “I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you.” I used it to drown out the sound of his voice in my head. I used it to blur out his face across that table from me. I used it as a balm on my shattered heart and twisting mind. I used it to erase him from my life; imagining a different reality. I used it as I fell asleep (finally), eyes puffy, tea cooling on the nightstand, wrapped in my knight’s arms, our heartstrings secured around us. 

I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you. 

Forgiveness is mine. And it’s not for you.