The last sentence in one of my old blog posts talking about depression was, “..And once I heal from all this, maybe it’s time to forgive my dad, too.”
It took getting engaged for me to even remotely consider forgiving my dad.
When Dane proposed, one of the first things that came to mind was to tell my parents. But during that time, my dad and I weren’t on speaking terms. To be more precise, it was me who wasn’t talking to him nor even acknowledging him. The last time I spoke to him was in July of 2017.
But getting engaged marked the start of a new chapter in my life. And it hit me that I wasn’t sharing it with the person who was my main confidant and friend when I was growing up. His baby is getting married and he was never a part of that journey. He has never even met Dane and the only reason he knew I was even in a relationship was because my mom told him.
It took me two days to decide to let him personally know about my engagement. Or actually, I asked my brother to do so but he refused, leaving me with no choice. I thought to myself that the engagement was an opportunity to reignite our relationship and see if my depressive episodes will trigger. After all, I didn’t want to start my new life with unresolved issues with my family.
I took a whole half hour to craft and revise the 3 sentences I wrote that lets him know one of his 5 kids is bound to get hitched. What’s the tonality you even take when you haven’t talked in almost 5 years? Do I send it like a corporate email with salutations? Do I just dive right in or start with a generic greeting?
But I did it. And it took a lot of maturity, courage, and humility from my prideful self.
Sometimes, I still think in the back of my head that it sucks that he didn’t meet Dane. You know, like normal couples do. Dane would have asked for my hand from him, too, if he was given the chance. Maybe he would have even tolerated as much corny dad jokes as I did with his dad in the course of our relationship.
That simple SMS I sent opened the path for us to talk. I couldn’t say like the old times, but it’s definitely a start—awkward, but still a start.
He met Dane two weeks after in our home. I didn’t cry nor felt the need to hurt myself to escape like before, and it’s as much victory in my recovery as it did in the progress of Dane and I’s relationship.
It didn’t hurt as much seeing him anymore. And I realized that those 5 years allowed me to heal and I was ready to forgive my dad, too.
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