Anne Altamore
You hurt me for so many years. Your torments, your unkind words, your continuous doubts. You forced me to live in the shadows. You robbed me of joy. Your incessant nagging exhausted me.
You were meant to love, encourage, and hold me safe. You were meant to be my strength; you were meant to be so many things.
I spent years focussed on what I could not do, forgetting what I could. I doubted my power, my intelligence, my abilities, my strength. I felt I didn’t belong because you told me I didn’t and I never would.
You made me feel stupid for grieving my lost twins. You made me feel I had to forget them and move on. To live as though they had never lived. You robbed me of the chance to honour my grief, to remember my precious babies with love. You robbed me of years of not seeking the help I needed to build my life around my loss.
I was not able to see myself as anything other than what you wanted me to see. Your negativity shrouded my judgement. You stopped me from pursuing my dreams because you were caught up in what might happen. You made me believe what others said instead of giving me permission to be what I could be.
You made me feel that crumbs were enough when instead I deserved the whole banquet. My childlessness does not diminish me. I am not less. Motherhood is but one part of my persona. I have the right to be happy. I am strong, I am resilient, I am courageous.
It took a lot to free myself from you. But I forgive you. You did not know better. You were a product of cultural, religious, and social conditioning. You did not realise that I have the power to set myself free. I am wise. I have meaning and purpose outside of childbearing.
I forgive you for the time lost in wallowing, for not allowing me the courage to dismantle cultural and religious beliefs, for not being more kind. I now know that you were scared, exhausted, and coping in the only way you knew. By relying on what you thought was the knowledge of the elders. I forgive you that you did not know how to look for wisdom beyond the boundaries of your upbringing. I forgive you for elevating the opinions of others instead of allowing me to seek and find what I needed within me. I forgive you for reinforcing self-doubt, anxiety, hopelessness. I forgive you for not guiding me better in self-care.
I forgive you for allowing fear, sadness, and anger to guide the choices we made.
I forgive you - the person who hurt me the most - the woman in the mirror – for the prickles in my heart.
