I wrote myself a letter.
Older self to younger selves.
I wasn’t good to you.
Wasn’t mothering you well, never had I been a proper mentor.
I had a hammer, a gavel and a megaphone.
I feel like I nailed you to the floor whilst
I apologised and comforted the ones who hurt us.
I feel like I’ve taken all the wrong sides.
If I don’t forgive myself, acid will devour me.
It is hard to look at every single one of you,
And love you to the fullest extent,
Knowing what you did, what you said and how you acted.
If I don’t do it, we will all come asunder.
I try to see the choices that count,
Didn’t they all?
I try to feel you too, see what was going on inside of you, ask the right questions.
Apply all my values to my own spirits and saints.
I let them attack you, I was the frontrunner.
We all look into each other’s eyes and try to get on the same page.
Without compassion there is no way ahead of us.
No matter how much it hurts and hits me in the stomach,
I will look at you, closely, I will love you, mustering up my courage and identity,
I will throw my judgement in a thunderstorm where it belongs,
I will accept my actions, my past, my failures,
Every single one of you changed directions at some point.
That’s what allowed you to multiply, diversify, evolve.
Turn into each other and more.
Our mistakes were never definitive, what erupted created matter.
And I hold you with tenderness,
I know all the whys, I could never turn away, and I pray to you,
In awe of what you survived, that you didn’t suffocate under the stampede.
I forgive you for what I am ashamed of.
I forgive you for your immoralities.
I forgive myself for sabotaging who I was.
I forgive myself for all the things done wrong.
I am a human being too, and I err, but I learn,
The compassion I give, I’ll receive, and maybe my own
Is all I need.
“The Sin” by Edvard Munch (1863-1944)