Last Sunday's Sunday school was on Ken Sande's Peacemakers book. Toward the end the focus was on forgiveness. I fought down nausa as long as possible and then fled to the bathroom with, thankfully, dry heaves. All I saw was me standing in the hallway with my teacher telling him I forgave him, again, when I was told how bad I was sinning by refusing to forgive him, again. And then to prove to him that I really forgave him I had to go to the "place where the abuse took place" again. This repeated over and over and over and over and over...
For six weeks I held out and didn't forgive him and go to the "place where the abuse took place" and for six weeks I stood at the wall for the 45 minute recess. He would stand there and tell me that I knew what I had to do to get off the wall.
The things he said to me...
I was such a forgiving child; and now just hearing it taught at church gives me the dry heaves. It has no relation on whether or not I have forgiven him. It doesn't reflect a bitterness on my part. It is a completely undesired, uncontrolable, physical reaction to past trauma. I wish I knew how to shut the videos off without shutting myself off.
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