Pretend. Release. Never Forget.

Twelve years old and I finally understood the meaning of true heartbreak; even worse I had experienced the feeling. This wasn’t any old person or some boy that had broken my heart but someone special, someone I admired, someone I adored, a man, my father.

So there I was, twelve years old, heartbroken, and without a dad. How did I even try to comprehend the fact that my father would rather chose drugs over his family? How did I, daddy’s little girl, cope with the fact that I didn’t have a daddy anymore? I did not. I took a deep breath, sucked up my tears, and went on with my life as if it never happened. I played pretend. As I know all too well playing pretend wouldn’t lead me anywhere but down a path of destruction, a path of lies, and a path of deceit. I had decided from there on out if I couldn’t trust my own father then I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else, not even God. I started to turn into someone I couldn’t even begin to recognize. I was slowly growing entangled as a player in the game, a game where only fakes could play pretend. I was becoming a fake person.

Somewhere down the line I became consumed in that game, and I couldn’t find a way out. I desperately wanted to let go, to release it all. I knew I needed to forgive, but I didn’t know how to anymore. I had become so good at the game of pretend that I had to pay the price of a lost faith, and I no longer knew how to surrender to God and ask him to give me the strength to forgive my father and move on with my life. I was tired of the path I continued so I prayed to God; I first prayed to renew my faith, then to rebuild my life, and finally I prayed that my heart would be mended in whatever way God saw fit.

Most of my prayers had been answered when I found an unfailing father through my faith, and then again when I was adopted by my mother’s husband. Although these were all things my heart had desired they still weren’t the closure I had longed for. Then as a church camp co-counselor this summer I finally received my closure when a lady, one whom I had never seen before, told me, “Don’t look at any experience as a rotting thing. It will never move you anywhere but where you have already been”. God had given me the reassurance that I had overcome my predicament and because I was at last able to forgive I was ready for what was next. I knew the time had come to turn my experience, the one I had chosen to keep as a contained hidden weakness for so long, into a source of strength. I wanted to take this new found strength and aid others who have been, or who are going through a similar battle.

I believe you should always forgive and never forget.