By Lauren G. Reliford
Sexuality poorly repressed unsettles some families; well repressed, it unsettles the whole world.
Pain settles around my throat as I try to come up with the words to explain myself. I fall deep into an inner silence when I even think of writing it down. I’ve tried for over a month to say the words I cannot say. I am pressed by my holodynes to be superficial about it. But right now, I cannot sleep until I press deeper into myself and float the groanings out of my fingers and into words.
I had my boy when I was only 16 years old. I had made decisions and said words to his father that I somehow now regret. I’ve never admitted that, not even to myself. My eyes are irritated now, but I am not going to cry tonight. This subject brings up so much pain for me-- pain that I have refused to forgive until just now.
You were only 16, I say to myself. You were only 16. How could you have known? “That’s no excuse,” I hear my mother say. I don’t know if she ever used those words with me, but I still hear her voice saying them, not just in my head, but in my heart. Her voice has always sounded so profound; I trust that voice, even when I know it is wrong for me and it does not serve me.
Can I really forgive myself for this? I don’t even know what I am forgiving myself for. Not exactly. Maybe it is a lot of things. Maybe it’s for getting pregnant at a young age. Maybe it’s for not being a good mother. Maybe it’s for not being financially unprepared, or for still being financially unfit. I am sure that it is all of the above and a bit more. I know the processes of forgiveness. When it comes down to it, will I begin? Or will I hold it?
I have held it for 16 years, 16 long years and this article is my therapy. One-thirty in the morning and I need to get to sleep for work, but I am awake. I am healing. I am sharing. I am giving. I am releasing. I am afraid.
This has been my story for 16 long years. What will I do without my story? This has been my pain. This has been my hurt. It has affected all of my decisions. It has been the sole driver of my life since my son’s conception… the Single Teen Mom, who ruined her chances of success. Another statistic, another one bites the dust. This is my life.
I liked him. He paid attention to me. I felt as if I was the only thought on his mind every day. I hadn’t had many sensual experiences with boys; I was a good girl, really. Although my parents swore I was a whore in recent years (A pain-body that I have recently dealt with through forgiveness), I still hadn’t ventured out and made a truth of it. I was only minutely exploring my sexuality. It was exciting: ecstasy.
He promised me to show me sensual favors that I had never experienced before, and the intrigue was way too overwhelming to pass up. I was just beginning to explore my feminine power and sexuality. I had to do it. I had to experience what I had never experienced before. It was just after my 16th birthday, and I felt this was the time a girl truly discovers her own desire. He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he had been an attentive lover so far. He had spent many days and nights talking to me and spending time with me and following me around. What was the harm in having an experience with him?
My body is reacting to the pain of the memories: the muscles in my arms are tense and my back and neck are tight. Physically, I am ready to fight. There is no physical danger, but the alarms are all set to hold on to that old story. My entire being is willing to fight for this sad, meager story.
I am not fighting it. I am only sitting with it tonight, allowing it to flush over me like a storm as I stare at this computer screen, spilling my heart out to you. “I love you. Please forgive me. I am sorry. Thank you.” I close my eyes and the words trigger tingling sensations in my arms and legs. My back has loosened a bit. Using the Ho’oponopono technique is working for me. Again, another closed-eyes round of Ho’oponopono and I feel lighter still. I am thinking of tapping the rest of the pain-body out. I know that it is a good idea. But right now, with this small sense of freedom, I just want to sleep and allow God to continue to work the pain-body out. My work can be done if I just let go of control.
So, I decided to let go. After only a couple hours of sleep, I am waking up for work. I don’t feel the tension I felt just a couple hours ago. My arms still feel the sensation of once being tightened and ready, but no longer, like I worked out a little bit yesterday and am now feeling a slight burn. I smile a little bit.
Knowing that forgiveness is the answer to every problem, I wonder why I held on to this pain-body for so long. Why didn’t I know it was there? I am the Queen of Forgiveness, after all. There is really nothing to forgive. So, why am I still forgiving? The self-doubt creeps in like a thick cloud, even though I know I did the right thing.
Even if there is really nothing to forgive, until we get to the point where we see the new perception painlessly, let’s just forgive. Maybe one day, I will reach that Nirvana or state of absolute absolution of all sin. But until that day, I will continue to forgive also. Not pretending to be anything more than what I am. I am who I am. I am the Queen of Forgiveness, and I have the power to forgive anyone--even myself.
About the author
Lauren G Reliford is the Queen of Forgiveness. She was born and raised in Gary, Indiana and now lives in Austin, Texas with her only son. The author of two books, Becoming an Alchemist and The Reverb Effect, Lauren has made it her life to teach forgiveness and atonement to over one million people in her lifetime. Follow her teachings at Queen of Forgiveness.
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