anniversary

The 15th of each month is important to me.

No one else would understand its importance though.

It marks the day in which I was released from probation – not this particular month, but most definitely this day.

On the day of my release, after I served my time through that, I celebrated. I asked that all of the people in my life that had supported me through that time, come together for dinner. I wanted to thank them. I wanted them to understand what their support had done for my healing and recovery.

I surrounded myself mostly by family. I had lost and left most of the friends I had prior to that time. I sat surrounded, my family handing me wonderful gifts and cards - all acknowledging the day I had waited for, for so long.

I got home late that night, went outside with several items in my hands. I lit a fire in our outdoor fireplace and as the flames grew larger and larger – I placed a piece of clothing I wore on the day of my arrest, into the fire. I let the shirt disappear in the flames, then the pants. I sat back in my chair and watched as the last two items I had held onto all this time, disappear from my sight – from my life. I had punished myself over and over again with them in my chest of drawers. I pushed them around in my bureau - moving them from drawer to drawer, but could never throw them out.

That night, I sat alone and let the tears fall from my eyes. I let them pour down my cheeks ... letting go of all that I had done, all the mistakes, all the bad choices. I thought of all the people I had hurt - each of their faces jumping into my mind. I cried because I could never make up to them what I had lead them to believe was real. I could never get all of that time back. I could never take back being arrested. I could never turn back and erase the tears my parents cried, the pain I caused them. I could never go back and erase all the self destruction I had endured. I just couldn't go back.

My mind went into a lot of different thoughts that night. I cried because although I had lost everyone in my life - I still had a few wonderful people that supported and loved me regardless. I cried because I had worked so hard to get to that point. I was ready to let go of the hurt. I was ready to let go and forgive myself.

For a while I did forgive myself and that remains for the most part. But it's not always something that stays with me. I still regret and I still wish I could go back. But the other side of that is not wanting to go back. If I could change what I had done to these people - I would. But if that changed, I would not be as strong as I am now. I would not have gotten close to those that I am now. I would not have had to figure out how to pick myself up from the ground. I would not have had to figure out how to cope on my own. I wouldn’t have figured out my past.

Today, I decided that I'm going to contact the last person I hurt. I chose her for many reasons that aren't important right now.

What comes out of this, I have no idea. I want to make sure that she is okay I suppose ... but in many ways, I want to make sure she still forgives me for what I had done so many years ago.