I’m not who I was a few weeks ago.
I have no past. I have no future. I only have NOW.
It all happened when I decided to travel to London for a self-improvement seminar.
It completely turned my world upside down. I realized I was living a lie, that I was trapped in a story about my life created by myself, which wasn’t true, not in the least.
A story that goes something like this: “My father was a violent and aggressive person, who used to hit me and tell me over and over again that I was no good and that I can’t do anything right. That translated in a lack of confidence in myself that lingers inside me even now. I blame him for destroying my personality, my confidence and my whole life, even after his death. He made me into a person that was closed within himself for 30 years, weary to let anyone in and reluctant to share any kind of personal information that might make him vulnerable”.
Nice story, huh? Except one thing: that’s what it is, a story. A good story that I told myself repeatedly until I’ve come to believe it. Then, the story became my life. It turned me into a victim, and that’s what I was until a few weeks ago.
I see things in a whole new perspective now, a lot clearer. Now I see that it was true that my father was what he was and did what he did. This is the reality. That was the way he knew how to behave. I, on the other hand, had a choice. When he said and did those things to me, I had three choices. No more, no less.
My first choice had been to do nothing, just hear what he had to say, let him do what he wanted to do, and then go on my merry way, without giving it a second thought or let him influence my life. That would have been the perfect choice to make.
My second choice had been to start shouting at him as well, getting angry and physical.
And finally my third had been to bow my head, take each word he said and believe it, and become a victim. That is what I chose, the third option, and molded it into my life.
The bottom line is that I had choices, and I chose. It wasn’t my fathers’s doing, it was mine. I had three choices and I chose the absolute worst. And how can I blame HIM for that?
I don’t blame him anymore, I only feel sorry for him. He too had choices, and chose the absolute worse for himself. For him, life was a struggle, and made him bitter and angry, which eventually led him into an early grave. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to truly know and love each other before he died, and, for that, I forgive him. And I forgive me.
I love you dad, wherever you are!
Your loving son, Razvan.