It has been a confusing and enlightening forty-eight hours in my life. Just yesterday I did something that I didn’t believe I would be able to do. On Friday night, I received a gift that I feared would never come. If you’ve been following my blog entries, you’re likely aware of at least some of the twists and turns I’ve been experiencing in the last couple months. Today, I’m going to break from my original intentions for this site and offer a post that is in fact advice. If you’re in need of healing… well, when in need of healing, start with forgiveness of others.
As everyone that has visited Bourbon and Backhoe already knows, I have struggled with alcohol and mental health for a very long time. I’ve outlined some of the positive changes that have been experienced as a result of finally getting the fuck out of my own way, admitting to my weaknesses, accepting myself and others and asking for help when I need it.
The easiest change to identify is visual. I’ve lost thirty-two pounds and feel confident in my appearance for the first time in years. Other positives can’t be seen from the outside looking in, so only the people that knew me months and years ago are able to see them now. By reading my memoir excerpts and other blog posts, you can at least have an understanding of what a miserable life I was living.
When I was diagnosed with chronic depression, severe depressive episodes and PTSD, there was no shock. For ten or more years I had known that I wasn’t mentally sound. I knew that alcohol was nothing more than a medication I could use to drown out the insecurities and hopelessness well enough to present a bullshit version of myself to the world.
More than that, I knew that my behaviors were responsible for the destruction in my most recent romantic relationship. Knowing and being able to admit, accept and seek change… well, those are very different things. About one month ago, for the first time, I allowed myself to be vulnerable enough to admit how deeply I loved that woman, how much I appreciated her as a spiritual being living alongside me. I had already lost her, of course, and it was beyond humbling.
Rather than lose myself in a pattern of negative thoughts and self-defeating behaviors, I embraced the changes I had made that allowed me to feel that hurt. There was no desire to grab a drink and kill it. No need to run away and pretend I didn’t feel it. Does it suck? Well, yeah, it fucking sucks. Life does sometimes. I used to pretend I didn’t miss her when she left town for a few days, unwilling to admit it to her or myself. I don’t have to do that anymore, I just embrace the fact. While I’m currently doing all I can to avoid assignment of blame on myself or anyone else, I still have to accept that it is my own hands that are dirty.
Two nights ago, Friday night, I received the gift that only reinforced my belief in self. I am on the right path now, finally deserving of the love that was once so freely given to me. From her? That isn’t for me to decide. From someone, though? Yes, I can be the man that deserves it and gives it back in exactly the same way. Help was needed, help was received, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
The gift I received wasn’t a new car or a magical lamp. It was a simple phone call from a very special person. Difficult at times, emotional at times, but necessary from beginning to end. In the previous week I had placed many calls to people in my life as I attempt to re-establish relationships and seek forgiveness for the wrongs I’ve done. On the phone call that I received, forgiveness was not even requested by either party. I was directly told I could not have it.
My response would usually be defensiveness, maybe a quick “fuck you, then” and a few drinks to dull the feelings. Instead, I calmly spoke my genuine feelings for the person, probably the very first time they were able to receive entirely unfiltered honesty from me. When the phone call was over, in the silence of an empty room, I forgave them for every wrong I had been holding in my heart. Love remained, resentment departed.
I woke up on Saturday morning after a surprisingly satisfactory sleep (my recent med dosage change seems to be causing a little bit of sleep disturbance) and felt oddly motivated to take a big step. During the previous night’s phone call I had discussed my intention of taking that very step, but was warned against it due to the certainty it would go wrong. I agreed with the warning, I expected that it was entirely correct, but it didn’t matter. The effort was necessary.
A few hours later, I arrived in town and sought out a man that I held undying resentment toward. I’ve never in my life said I hate another person, but he is absolutely the closest I have ever been. The reasons for that are in my memoir, I promise the pages will be easy to find, and there is no reason to go over it here. He had done something eighteen months earlier, that I had not only held in a death grip of rumination, but had actually gotten so twisted up inside that I used the hurt to harm another. My favorite other. From the day I learned of that transgression, it never left my mind.
To be fair, I didn’t respect him much before that happened. I had known him for a couple years and didn’t have feelings for him one way or the other. There were things that were pretty hard to overlook, also others that were the result of my ability to pass judgement on people whether they deserved it or not. Part of my self-protective bullshit did involve criticism of others at times. When he did commit an act that I deemed as personal and directly against me, it tapped into my core and exposed the biggest fear I had at the time. He threatened to take what I desired most of all, while I secretly feared losing it without any rational reason needed.
Due to the events of the last fifteen or so months, that particular man held a strong dislike for me. He had no idea what my feelings were towards him, though he was aware of the day I learned what he had done. After that, we continued working together as if nothing was wrong while I quietly wished for his demise. The threat of his actions haunted me and spilled onto my relationship at home. It also helped to keep my bourbon glass full.
I could have talked, could have been honest, but I simply lacked the capability of doing so. I was so fucking afraid of how people would see me that I bottled everything and let it explode under moments that extended beyond my control. Every part of myself that I could be proud of disappeared. Those behaviors started long before my former co-worked wronged me, but my life’s unmanageability ascended to an entirely new level after he did. That’s who I was, a suffering and miserable asshole that fantasized about the past when he had a heart worth holding. There were good days and bad, that’s worth mentioning, but memories of one tend to erase those of the other.
The man and I stood in front of one another, for the first time in more than a year. No communication had been exchanged between us at all, though rumor mills had delivered general thoughts and feelings in each direction. I asked him if I could have a moment of his time. He shook his head to say no, then asked what for. “Please,” I said, “I’d just like to talk if you have a few minutes.”
He looked at me suspiciously, hesitating at length, but agreed to follow me outside. Arms crossed, turned somewhat away from me, his body language suggested that he had no intention of listening much at all. I spoke anyway. I told him how deeply I had been impacted when I learned of what he had done. Honesty poured from me as I confessed that I had been holding pure resentment towards him ever since and admitted that I had even many times used it to hurt someone else in my life. His arms relaxed to his sides, body turned towards me and closed the gap between us.
“I was wrong, and I am sorry,” I said. “While I don’t agree with what you did, I forgive you for it. I don’t think you intended to cause anyone harm, least of all me. I was wrong to personalize it and hold it against you. More wrong to use it against her.”
“You look really good,” he said, smiling then. “I had no idea I was crossing lines at the time or that it led to any of the shit that happened later on. I accept your apology. You have really changed.”
Now, he wasn’t truthful in those words. He absolutely did know he was crossing lines when the actions were originally made. He did so more than once and even said the words that proved his knowledge of said lines. I didn’t care, allowing that attempt to minimize his actions to fall to the ground. I was there to forgive him and heal myself, not create new grudges to bear.
I went on to tell him the truth of what I’ve been through, just how much I struggled during the time we had known each other, and about the help received and the changes made since. Moving ahead, I told him what I’m currently proud of and shared the feelings I’ve come to hold for others. The thing with my current path that amazes me most is just how easily I can be honest without fear. I fully accept myself today, for both good and bad alike. I haven’t encountered anyone so far that would choose the former version of me over what they’re able to see today.
We shook hands and we hugged, both of which had never been shared between us before.
If you are in need of healing, When in need of healing, start with forgiveness of others. After the gift I received on Friday night, I felt nothing less than grateful. It was a gift that I didn’t necessarily deserve. It also led me to give myself the gift of truly forgiving both the giver of that gift and the former co-worker that had long haunted my thoughts. The peace that followed is the greatest change in my life so far. There may only be one left that can raise that bar.