Two years ago, someone very close to me sent me a message that was deeply hurtful. Reading those words was like eating glass. I was shocked, astonished, angry, and wounded for a long time. They never apologized or even acknowledged what they had said. I suspect they had been drunk at the time. Tonight, I decided, in the spirit of healing all my relationships in this lifetime, to write the letter I wished they had written – or something like it. And in writing it – because I know this person to be a beautiful soul, damaged by life – it is healing all the last threads of discord. I intend to address this within my personal space, yet somehow felt that there may be those out there who could do with a letter like this. Because we have all been hurt, have we not? Especially by those closest to us. It is not an irony. If they were not so close, how could they manage to pick all those carefully constructed locks and reach our tenderest parts?

When we decide, finally, to put our past to bed, that is when we find our true selves. Because, as someone far wiser than I once said, forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. It goes further still. Forgiveness is also giving up all hope the for a better future. Forgiveness is, in fact, the very act of giving up – of letting go. Right and wrong remain. Don’t misunderstand me. Forgiveness does not condone wrong, it is freedom from the tortured cage of the wronged self.

This will seem like nonsense. It will seem unjust. It won’t seem right. Until it happens. And it will happen. You will not ‘do it’. The bitterness will simply slip away – when you are ready. I don’t urge you to let it go. I urge you only to Be Ready.

When you are truly ready, that lesion in your heart with fill up with peace again – and you will find a wiser, more grown up love. A love that does not depend on the love of another. The kind that can take some knocks, that can care at a distance if the object of that love stays all prickles and spikes. Don’t force your forgiveness on the other, don’t expect it to change the other. Let it change you. And then sit back and watch the story you have told about it all unfold itself, like a book into a flower, and all those agonized pages turn, like petals to the rain, and wash themselves clean.

Dear One,

I never mean to hurt you. I lashed out when I was in pain and couldn’t see how it would land. And when I saw…well, it was too late, wasn’t it? It doesn’t seem like it, I know, but I felt protective, and….disappointed. You always meant so much to me. We have known each other so long, but we drifted apart, to the point I barely felt I knew you. I was worried about the things you said, and did, and yes, I admit, I was angry. Looking back, I realize how the things I said have torn a further rift between us. I want to heal that rift, but I don’t know how. We are so close, and yet, not. I feel your distrust, and I don’t blame you. I want to make it right, but I don’t know how. I hate how you know me so well. I hate how you see through me. Perhaps you hate me for the same reasons? Are we the same? Two halves separated by an illusion. Set against one another like Cain and Abel. I thought you had it easy. I thought you didn’t care. But I know that I was wrong. I hate you for forgiving me. which I know you do, It makes me feel weak. I hate myself for hating you. But that wasn’t the real me.

So I’ll pretend like nothing happened because the alternative is worse. To speak about it means that I have to meet again that part of me that sent those unkind thoughts. I just want you to know. There is another me, who is always on your side, and shows it better.

I know I won’t send this letter. It’s too much for me right now. Writing it, is enough. I love you, there I said it. One day, I will be ready to show it.