I Want to Forgive

Sensitive Content: Language, sexual violence

“I want to forgive my mother for making me get my own switch for spanking me. I thought a thin willow branch would be easier on my backside, but it hurt worse than a big one as it sped through the air at flogging speed.”

“I want to forgive my parents for spanking me after church every Sunday. I always talked and laughed during the sermon. It was so predictable that the three of us kids would be lined up for our punishment, I wore extra underwear under my Sunday best.”

“I want to forgive my sister for making me sleep on the bottom bunk because, as she would say, ‘I was a little chunky and she was skinny as a rail’. Did I just dream that the top bunk fell and missed my head by an inch in the middle of the night? No that actually happened.”

“I want to forgive my mom for letting me wear those white fishnet stockings to church with only my cute little bloomers to hold them up. I had a blue dress, with bloomers, for Easter that year. She let me go without a garter belt because the bloomers would keep the stockings up. Of course, the stockings fell. I was so embarrassed I ran to the car. By the time I got the door open the stockings were around my ankles. She should have known better.”

“I also want to forgive Ms. Logan, my 6th grade teacher, for telling me I looked like the abdominal snowman. I was dressed in white stockings, white shoes, a white skirt, and a white sweater. I even had a white bow in my hair. How embarrassing.”

“I want to forgive Susan Thomas for ruining my math book. I had it under my desk when she vomited all over the floor. The rest of the school year my book smelled like vomit.”

“I want to forgive myself for hating Susan Thomas.”

“I want to forgive my mom for pouring Listerine on the deep cut on my knee. I was about 9 years old that day, swimming in Jimmy Johnson’s little three-foot metal pool without permission. Mom had been looking for me and when the neighbor told her I was at Jimmy’s she was furious. She hated him. He was so much older than me. I cut my knee on the rusty metal pool. She took her anger out on the wound.”

“I want to forgive my big brother for holding me down and terrorizing me. He would get a big glob of spit in his mouth and let it drool down just in front of my face, then he would suck it back up. He would laugh. It was torture. He would say if I told anyone he would kill me.”

“I want to forgive my Uncle Herman for feeling my boobs and laughing, ‘Oh little girl, you’re growing up real nice’. I was only 10 years old--I never felt clean again around him.”

“I want to forgive my mom for her response when I told her about Uncle Herman, ‘Oh you baby,’ she said, ‘Don’t worry about that, that’s what uncles do.’ I think she laughed too.

“I want to forgive my dad for beating me so bad that time I lied about where my brother was. I had lied that my brother was in his room. I knew he wasn’t there. I thought he would be in trouble if I told them he wasn’t home when they called from the bar they had gone to for a party.  I didn’t think they would come right home and check. I was asleep when they got home. The next day while my dad was at work my mom was yelling at me about lying to her. She said something like, ‘Wait until your daddy gets home…’ I called her a bitch. When my dad walked through the door, tired as a dog, she started yelling at him to whip me. ‘You can’t let her get away with calling me a bitch!’ I was lying on the couch like a normal 14-year-old when my dad came at me with the belt. He hit me over and over. He grit his teeth and his face was beet red. Then he drove me all around our little shit-hole Florida town looking for my brother who had still not come home. I was all red from crying and I could hardly walk with giant welts on my skinny legs. All my friends saw us.”

"I want to forgive my brother for not appreciating that I lied for him-that I had taken that punishment for him."

“I want to forgive Gary What’s-his-name for saying he wouldn’t do anything. He said I could lay down with him and he would just hold me. Then, when I did lay down, he started feeling me up and wouldn’t let me leave until he came inside me with his big dick. It was brutal and humiliating. Then, he called me a slut. It’s going to be a hard forgiveness to find.”

“I want to forgive my sister for stealing my boyfriend. It’s still too hard to talk about.”

“I want to forgive Ms. Ramirez, the art teacher, for laughing at me that day I came to school with a scarf on my head. She laughed. She made me take it off. The night before my mom, who was mad at me for some forgotten thing, had whacked all my hair off. It was uneven and I looked like a cancer patient or a holocaust survivor. The pain still lives on the surface in that humiliating memory.”

“I want to forgive my customer at the Holiday Inn Restaurant in Mountain Home, Arkansas for asking me if I had been in an accident. I had two black eyes from a beating I took from Donnie Martin, the love of my life. Alcohol and violence seemed wrapped up together in those hippy days in the Ozarks. We would…”

Suddenly the tune began to play on Dr. Amy’s phone. She said “OK, time is up. We’ll continue next week.” She walked to her desk and laid down her pen and notebook. She clicked on her computer. Then, looking up at me, she said “Talk with Shirley about your insurance. Have a good week. Goodbye.”