My post from yesterday was short and bitter, not in tone or expression but in its impact on me. Nothing makes my life go dark anymore like those moments in which I am acutely aware that I was a part of a problem that has fundamentally hurt so many people. It isn't a nebulous idea for me: I know that pain, too, intimately (also "too intimately"), and yet nonetheless I caused it. And decades of consistently striving to be a part of the solution fail to keep that darkness from having a hook into my psyche.
Forgiveness is a process, whether one is forgiving others or forgiving oneself. But each time I see how someone else - especially someone whom I love and respect - has been affected by actions like my own broken ones, it seems I have to reenter the process. And my ability to do that is too dependent on my current frame of mind.
I've been so loved, so forgiven, so accepted, that you'd think this would get easier.
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