There’s a certain weight that comes with carrying the past, especially one scarred by the hands of bullies. My journey through childhood and adolescence was marked by moments that felt like scenes from a movie I didn’t want to star in – flicked in the head, hit, insulted, and the quintessential cliché of being stuffed in lockers.  From the relentless bullying at school to the sense of isolation within my family, my journey was marred by the deep-seated feeling of not belonging.  Now, I’m embarking on a path not just of remembering, but of forgiving and letting go. 

Growing up, I navigated a world that often felt hostile. School hallways, which should have been corridors of learning and discovery, were battlegrounds. The physical pain from the hits and the emotional scars from the insults were like invisible weights I have carried for decades. These moments of torment weren’t just physical assaults; they were attacks on my spirit, my sense of self.

For years, the anger and hurt stayed with me, like unwanted companions. I realized, though, that holding onto these feelings was like gripping hot coal with the intention of throwing it at those who wronged me – the only person getting burned was me.

The decision to forgive was not an act of exoneration for those bullies but a declaration of liberation for myself. It was about unpacking those bricks from my backpack, one by one. This journey wasn’t just about forgetting the flicks, hits, or taunts; it was about understanding that they no longer defined me. Forgiving the bullies, the classmates who never intervened, the family members who didn’t understand – this wasn’t about condoning their actions. It was about releasing myself from the role of the victim and redefining my narrative. It was acknowledging that their inability to see my worth didn’t diminish my value.

Forgiveness, I learned, is a process. Some days it’s as easy as breathing, other days as challenging as climbing a mountain. It’s not about erasing the past but about changing my relationship with it. The pain and memories are there, but they no longer hold the same power over me.

In this journey, there’s a crucial moment I must acknowledge: the moment of forgiveness. To those classmates who saw me as nothing more than a target for their jeers, to the family members who couldn’t or wouldn’t see the pain behind my eyes, I forgive you. This forgiveness is my declaration of peace – not an erasure of what happened, but a release from the hold it had on me.

I forgive you not because your actions were insignificant, but because my peace is significant. By forgiving, I reclaim the power that was once diminished by your indifference and cruelty. It’s a conscious choice to no longer allow these experiences to anchor me in bitterness and resentment.

This act of forgiveness is not a single event but a continuous process, a path I choose to walk every day. It’s about letting go of the narrative of victimhood and stepping into a story of empowerment. It’s about recognizing that while I cannot change the past, I can change how I let it affect my present and future.

Today, I stand stronger, not in spite of my past, but because of the resilience it instilled in me. Letting go of resentment has opened a space for peace and self-acceptance. This journey of forgiveness is a continuous one, with each step moving me further from the shadows of feeling like an outcast.

Embracing my history, with all its pain and isolation, has allowed me to embrace myself fully. I’ve learned that forgiveness is not just an act of kindness towards others, but a profound act of love towards oneself. In this newfound understanding, I find not just peace, but a sense of belonging that I’ve longed for all along – a belonging within myself.