Olive Branch:
Oh sweet salvation of the soul
that brought me to this place,
remind me of the years I've fought
to see myself with grace.
Remind me that the risks I take
in offering to love
are worth the effort and the pain -
send forth a gentle dove.
When it returns perhaps I'll see
a twig - an olive branch -
some proof that once the tears abate
it's safe to take a chance.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 11, 2018
Sometimes people are too hurt to not hurt in return. I've learned that lesson over the years, when I've tried to befriend people too wounded to trust or accept love. It would be easy to stop making the effort if I didn't have such a highly developed conscience.
You see, I know I've been lucky. For all of my social dysfunction at times, my temper, and my lack of filters when it comes to expressing sometimes unpopular opinions, I love and am loved. I have a family who cares about me, and a few trusted friends who have my back when times are hard. I know a lot of people have far less, and so I'm willing to risk being hurt when the occasional person comes into my life who can't accept my friendship, my concern or my love.
I recently read an interview between a woman who had been abused and her abuser. It shook me to the core, but at the same time it inspired me. At one point the woman tells her abuser that no matter how much he hurt her she'd rather be in her position than his - unable to truly comprehend how much damage he did, and too arrogant in his belief that he didn't need to fully repent of his sins, or seek help to conquer his abusive behavior.
I understand what she was saying because to a far lesser extent I've experienced those feelings too. As often as I've had my hand bitten by those who I attempted to "feed" with a bit of TLC, I feel sorrier for the people who bit me than the fact that my hand (and heart!) needed a bit of bandaging after the encounter.
I'm going to be very frank now - and there may be some who feel that this level of honesty isn't warranted, but I want you (as readers) to understand a vital part of my history. The family I grew up in wasn't perfect, but I never encountered mental illness until I left home. In my twenties, I encountered people who had some serious issues - and a few of them bit me. At that time I was just really hurt, ignorant as I was of the kind of underlying problems that prompt some people to lash out at others.
At the age of 26 I got married, and try as I might I just couldn't seem to win my mother-in-law's love. Nothing I ever did was good enough - I didn't deserve her son, and I didn't deserve to raise her grandsons. For years I'd feel sick every time we visited her. I made it all about me - why couldn't she find it in her heart to love me? I was a good person and I truly loved her son and our children! Why couldn't I win her approval? There were times I thought that I hated her because her disapproval and constant criticism hurt me so much.
It took me years to begin to understand that she suffered from mental illness. And it took decades for me to learn to forgive her, and to understand that what I experienced from her wasn't really her, but a manifestation of problems and issues that began long before I ever met her.
I am ashamed to admit that it took me years to begin to love her.
Now with that experience behind me, I've learned to try harder to be accepting, but part of accepting is knowing when I simply can't be the person to offer help or friendship. Sometimes I'll encounter people who are too damaged to accept my best efforts on their behalf, and I'll just have to admit that there's nothing more I can do.
But despite suffering inevitable bites and heartaches, I'm not ready to stop caring. Once my heart stops hurting for me, it continues to hurt for them. I know I'd rather be hurt by having my clumsy efforts to befriend rejected than suffer the pain they suffer.
I know this: Sooner or later I'll risk a further dose of heartbreak when I open my heart to another vulnerable soul. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.
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