Families logo

On Death, Trauma, and Self-Forgiveness

A Strange Road of Self-Discovery

By Estelle ThomasonPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
Like
Little Me, When I First Met My Step Father

On Sunday, February 4, it will be 13 years since my stepfather died of an overdose. It seems like yesterday, as all life-changing events typically do. I would’ve been 9-years-old, and don’t remember feeling any emotion when I saw the foam falling from his mouth. The following is my journey to forgiving myself for that.

Due to social media, mainly Twitter, a lot of us are identifying and commiserating with the trauma we’ve been through, myself included. Whether it is recent or 20-years-old, we are finding ways to forgive these events and people, or leave it behind us and move forward. However, not everything is so simple. I’ve tried my hardest to forgive my stepfather, who inflicted trauma on my small family for a solid six years, but it seems like a circular path that leads to nowhere. Forgiving him would excuse years of unnecessary abuse, yet I am told that it is the only way to move forward. I’ve found that learning to forgive myself can also be a means of moving forward.

I do find it possible to forgive the trauma my parents as a unit caused, as it was more survival than personal. Living in government projects with a child has a tendency to bring that out in you, and it seemed to be more about how they fought with the world more than it had to do with me. However, the mental, physical, and emotional abuse inflicted on my mother and therefore me was something I could never overlook. Not as a child and not as an adult. When all you know is pain from someone and suddenly they are no longer in your life, you feel a weight removed from your shoulders, and that’s all I could recognize.

We are taught to mourn when someone dies, to remember the good times and romanticize what they were. But I've never believed in that, and could never find it in my heart to lend that amount of kindness to someone so cruel. The confusion of wanting to mourn yet not knowing if I should creeps over my shoulder and into my head every year in early February. I’ve found that the most I can do is allow myself to feel and allow it to move away from me.

Our feelings about events, people, and things are never permanent. They are ever-changing and ever-growing the same way we are. Some years, I buy flowers to place on his grave and I weep until I feel I am empty. Some years, I pretend I never had a stepfather at all. Some years I remember him by recounting childhood memories to a close friend. Through all of these things, I try to forgive myself, for wanting to mourn a man who inflicted so much pain, or for wanting to hate him with my whole being. I practice patience, and recognize that no one path is right or wrong. Through it all, I have found I owe this man nothing but I am not so cruel as to not see his humanity. I only owe myself the time and space to heal and attempt understanding. The most we can do at times is administer self-love and comfort and hope that eventually forgiveness will come. (Thank you, Twitter gurus.)

humanity
Like

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.