by River Kozhar
Ten Replies to Being Told to Forgive My Parents
1) If you mean by the first definition of forgiveness, forgiveness as in acceptance of how things are and letting go of how you wish them to be, then I already have.
2) If you mean the second definition of forgiveness—forgiveness as in I understand that this was a mistake. You hurt me, but it was an exception, or You hurt me, but I can see that you’ve changed. I want to work through this with you because you’re worth it.—then consider that you have an unhealthy view of abusive relationships. If I were covered in bruises from my husband, would you tell me to forgive him too?
3) Why is this important to you? Why, without knowing much about me, does the fact that I have cut off ties with my parents bother you? And more importantly,
4) Why is my parents’ supposed suffering what bothers you, and not mine? Why is your reaction Oh, your poor parents. They must miss you. I’m sure they tried their best, and not Oh, you poor thing. It must have been so difficult to cut your parents out of your life. I can’t imagine what they must have put you through.
5) Perhaps it’s difficult for you to understand because you’ve been lied to too. Perhaps your abusive parents told you that parents should always be forgiven. Perhaps you’ve chosen to believe this, because it’s easier to accept the suffering than to believe that the people you love are not worth your love. That the people you love don’t know how to love you back. That the people you love are the ones hurting you the most. Or
6) Perhaps it’s difficult to understand because you have parental privilege. In your life, arguments between children and their parents are normal, but not anything more extreme than that. At the end of the day, you have always known what love is. You have always been wanted. You have never thought that being afraid of people breaking into your house was ridiculous, because there are much scarier things already inside of it. Perhaps what is difficult for you is that
7) “Parents” can be a misleading word. To those for whom it means things like friend, advisor, confidante, a “parent” is never someone who you should turn your back on. Consider that “parent” is a word that means nothing, because of the scope of experience that can fit into this word. Consider that some people’s parents are serial killers. Consider that I was unsure whether my father would actually kill me growing up. Consider that your view of “parent” is privileged and narrow-minded. Consider that this makes you lucky.
8) Instead of telling me to forgive my parents, perhaps you should ask me why I don’t. Perhaps you should ask me what I am most afraid of. Perhaps you should ask me about the nightmares I still have nearly every night because of them. Perhaps you would learn how I would do anything rather than live under the horror of their roof again. Perhaps you would learn how I give thanks every day for escaping them. Perhaps you would learn something of courage and resilience, of those who survive despite all odds.
9) A better question would be: What has it been like cutting off ties with your parents? Am I glad I did it? Am I still afraid of them? Am I still afraid period? Did I have to give up nearly everything else in order to do this? Was it still worth it? Do I spend my holidays alone? Do I miss weddings? Do I have to watch every face coming up the street when I know my parents are visiting my city? Is them finding me again one of the scariest things I can possibly imagine? Do I have to fight to maintain my freedom every single day? Is never hearing from them again one of my greatest hopes? Does my trauma still churn my gut like blades twisted in old wounds when I try to sleep? Is facing the truth still worth it? Is cutting off ties helping me to become a better person? Is it clearing space for better people? Is it cultivating more love in my life? Is it giving me hope for a better world? Is it the best decision I ever made? The answer to all of these is yes. But if you insist on telling me to change my mind, then
10) No.
RIVER KOZHAR has publications of prose and poetry in 25+ literary magazines and is seeking an agent for a diverse NA/YA fantasy novel. Her non-fiction (under this nom-de-plume) placed in the finals of the 2019 Pen-2-Paper disability-writing contest, and has also appeared in Bacopa Review and the Deaf Poet’s Society. She is a young retired (disabled) academic and a social justice advocate, and she lives in Kingston, Ontario, Canada.