healing from trauma narcissism

Forgiveness – Never Thought I’d Get Here

My god, it’s full of stars!



Well ladies and gents, it’s official!

This writer successfully cleaned out his closet to make room for the new.

Now just what in god’s name are you talkin’ about?!

Give me some of yo’ time and I’ll tell ya all about it, sugah.

I clamored into bed last night, although my head knew the day’s work was yet to be finished.

So we sat in the dark, awaiting a sign. A hint. Something to nudge us in whatever direction we’d find ourselves.

When low and behold, a light turned on to reveal the darkness that blinded us for so long.

A burning hatred. A seething desire. A pain so great that it choked the life from within to starve what little time we have left in this world of dysfunctional dualism.

But alas we pierced through the veil, emerging from the cavernous regions of our inner workings.

And what did we find? Or rather what surfaced?


Forgiveness too.

For we realized the hatred for the woman that birthed us was fueling our behaviors and thoughts alike.

This in turn filled our words with tremendous spite.

But must we love that or whom we forgive?

After all, are we not love-bugs at heart?

A second more, and all fell apart.

Not implying this was awful or wretched to embrace!

Yet the eruption of warmth and love most certainly laid waste to the aforementioned feelings of hate.

We then recognized for the first time that to forgive does not mean to love.

For none can love that which is unlovable.

However, we can accept the harm that was felt and delivered without thought in mind.

This writer is honestly just thankful he has the divine.

Not that he is special or unique beyond measure!


Well he’s a monkey no different from the rest, although he’s working on resting his hands so as to not beat them across his chest.

For rage and hate have their place in life, though it would benefit one to seek peace as opposed to might.

Some tears fell. Sliding down the curvatures of his face.

But not before his mother took her rightful place.

To where you may ask?

Why in his heart, where she will forever love him for who he truly is.



Okay! With the flowery jargon out of the way, let’s give you a TL;DR so you have a better idea of where we arrived in mind.

I hated my mother because she was awful. Really awful.

If you walked a mile in my shoes and climbed the mountains I’ve climbed, you’d understand where I’m coming from.

For those of you who were abused by your own caretakers, you’ll  relate to a certain extent.

But did you realize how much they threatened your existence?


How many of you can function optimally? As in getting up from bed without worrying about whether or not the sky is going to rain on your parade?

For those who have been abused, life is hard. Challenging!

Hell, words don’t even describe what you have to go through. What I had to go through. What we all share because someone dropped the ball.

So to even consider forgiving that monster was out of the question.

Why? Because I said so, that’s why.

But then I realized that to forgive is to accept, not to love.

I don’t have to go out of my way to develop a relationship with a human turdsicle who never had my best interests in mind. In fact, they nearly killed me!!!

Although I have a mother who will always love me – a template, a pattern, an image that has never treated me with disdain.

She has never rejected me.

Why? Because love has nothing to do with rejection.

But my own hatred for the woman who birthed me prevented my TRUE mother from filling that space in my heart.

A chasm that merely echoed what it was capable of producing or feeling.

Adolf Hitler was a monster.

Ghengis Khan was a monster.

Julias Caesar was a monster.

Ted Bundy was a monster.

My own biomom was a monster.

But what’s done is done. There’s no going back.


Because we can only move forward from here on out.

Many Blessings!

Ladies and gents, Everybody wants to love…

Happy Wednesday, everyone! May the day be filled with blessings and cheer alike 🙂

Featured Image: Light Redemption by Richard Davis


    1. Your writing style flows as if the reader were sitting near the one who voiced the dialogue into existence. The stops and general descriptors at points allow one to fill in the blanks without being forcefed a lukewarm diet, mistakenly disguised as original. So well done!

      Liked by 1 person

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