An Open Letter to the One who Cheated
I’ve spent so long so angry. So angry, I’ve blocked out love. So angry that it’s clouded the good. So long.
I’ve spent so long trying to punish. Trying to harbor resentment. Blocking my own freedom. Aligning with the dark.
I’ve forfeited so much time trying to punish. Trying to withhold. Any yet, I’ve been the one who has suffered.
I’ve spent so long wishing for a fairytale. Wishing for some magical lever to be pushed to make it all better. To start anew.
And yet, here I am, as I take a step back and look at my life, I realize that we were destined to walk in the footsteps of our fathers, our mothers, their fathers, their mothers. Destined to play out the karma. Destined to live out the story of our ancestral pain and trauma.
I am the cheater.
I barely admitted it, but I am.
You are the cheater.
You barely admitted it, but you are.
I am the liar. You are the liar. I am in the wrong. You are in the wrong. The marriage was broken. The engagement was broken. The relationship was broken. I was broken. You were broken. The past was broken.
The presence is now.
The future is open.
How do we move on? How do we let each other go? How have you moved on? How have I moved on?
Where do things stand? What do you want? What do I want?
Who decides? Who forgives? Who moves on?
Why did it happen? Why does it still hurt? What can’t I let go?
Why do I cling to the threads of the past that make it so difficult to forgive?
What will make it better? What do I have to do to move on?
When will I stop hurting? When will I finally be free?
Of the Father. Of the Son. Of the Ex. Of my Burden.
When will the light shine through to illuminate the shadow?
When will absolution and forgiveness, true forgiveness, finally win out?
It pains me still to think about the hurt. The denial.
My intuition muted. The lies told.
At some point, it will dissipate, right?
I’ve spent too long holding on.
I’ve spent to long clinging to this hope.
I’ve spent too much emotional currency to cash it in on anything that matters.
At some point, you let go. At some point, you chose her instead of me. At some point, you chose her instead of my mother. At some point, he chose her instead of your mother. At some point, she chose him instead of your father. At some point, we all let go.
♥ Gratitude for joining me as I process the emotional and spiritual 27-month journey of Peace Corps Service in South Africa.
The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.