For more than a week I have been conversing with someone who knows my history. It has stirred emotion in me in a way I cannot yet fully digest. I left my hometown before my recovery process began. So, I was able to leave behind the people who were aware, first hand, of my behaviors. In the new town I was able to tell the story from my own perspective. Often, I was the victim in my story telling. Rarely did my story contain information of the wreckage I caused to other people. Frequently, I would only discuss the debris I left for myself.
Many times I have thought of the actual damage I have done. Many times I have thought that the change in my life has been a living amends to the people I had harmed that I could not locate to make personal amends. I believe my recovery is solid. I believe my lifestyle is a testament to my genuineness to live differently. However, these exchanges have left me thinking about the past more than I would like.
The person has assured me that all is forgiven. So, what is the reason this does not seem like enough? I believe one of the reasons is that they shared with me the fact that even back then they saw through some of my pain and insecurity to the person I am today. That is the part that has me baffled. I could not even see her. Yet, someone else could. And they have forgiven me for behaviors that I find revolting, perhaps, unforgiveable.
So, I have forgiven myself. I have asked for forgiveness. And I have lived the last sixteen years making the past right. I am searching for the reason I am feeling as I do today. As if something more should be done. As if a piece of that puzzle is missing.
I have been given feedback from several people I trust. They all concur that since I have dealt with the person I was then I would be better served to stop my mind from wandering back into that and just move forward with the person I am today. I want to do that. And I believe I can. This is just more than a gentle reminder that even when the past has passed, it is still a part of me.