you can always go home, right? (part 4)

i asked for forgiveness...

Dear ******,

I’ve sat down to write this letter so many times over the years that I’m afraid I’ve lost count. I’ve not had the words, and as I sit with pen to paper, I may find that words are still lost for me. To be honest I’m not even sure this letter will make it out of my notebook and all the way to the mailbox.

Where do I begin? Where does one begin in a letter like this? One that is long overdue and 13 years in the making. I’ve always imagined the middle of this letter, never really how I got there – and so here I am at a loss again.

When I think about that August day at ******* ****, I get anxious and nervous, and I suddenly become that vulnerable 18 year old little girl again. I picture myself there, faced with the truth that I had done something so horribly wrong to another person – someone who trusted me, who may have looked up to me, who was my friend, and who should have felt safe in my presence and in knowing that I never had any intention of harm, someone I should have been protecting. And I violated that. I violated that relationship and I took away what should have been an inherent trust. I think of that day ******, and I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could go back to that day in August when we all came face to face and have the courage to say, “I did it, and I’m sorry.” But I can’t, I can only tell you now – now that I’m finding my voice, the voice that the 18 year old little girl that still hides inside of me, didn’t know was there.

You have no idea how brave and courageous I’ve always thought you to be. To have the courage to recognize that something didn’t feel right to you, to be so brave to find words and strength to say it aloud, to be secure in knowing that your family loves you and supports you and to be brave enough to tell them. I can’t imagine the anger and hurt you must have had for me for denying what you and I both knew to be the truth – I’m so sorry for that.

I’m a mom now – I have a beautiful 3 ½ year old little girl. I look at her sometimes and I know that I would do anything to protect her. I believe it is because of her that I have made my way to this place, this journey to battle my demons. She makes me want to be a better person, a stronger person, and a person who takes responsibility for her mistakes. I want her to always know that she can tell me the truth, that she can tell me anything, and know that I will always love her. How can I ask that of her if I can’t tell her the whole truth of who I am – how can I ask her to be brave if I can’t show her what that is myself?

When I look at her as I write, I am brought to your mom. Your mom was always very special to me when we were growing up. I still remember the look of disgust she had for me and it continues to break my heart. But I also remember the fierce protection she had for both you and ****. That is a mother’s love that is unmatched and I thank God you have her for yours. It is for her and for the rest of your family that I have regret also. That event, that one defining moment affected more than just you and me. But I lied to your mother – I lied to your mom when you were just trying to tell the truth – and I’m sorry to you and to her for that.

I know I can never go back and change the events of the past, but my hope is that if not today, then someday, you can find solace in my taking responsibility, for me knowing how wrong what I did was, for me saying the truth to you and to the world if I’m ever asked, for me learning from those mistakes, for the regret I feel. I’m sorry for causing you any pain, for causing your family pain, for lying to you and your mom and even myself. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

lyza jane