“Say sorry.”
Talking to my son yesterday…
I tell him that I’ve been healing and on the other side of this is a better version of me.
He says, “… I couldn’t have asked for a better version of you. You’re an amazing person to me, already.”
I have an 18 year old son that I’ve done everything in my power to shield from what I was going through. I even kept him from being exposed to my “family” because I never wanted him to experience any of the pain, hurt, silence, and whatever else that I had to deal with. He just knows that I’ve been here. In his life.
He thinks the world of me. He thinks the world of THIS me!
My son doesn’t know any of what I’ve had to deal with. Yesterday was the first day that I gave him certain details and descriptions about any of this. Because this wasn’t his pain to process.
But any pain that he has or had, my son has had my ear, my heart, and my full attention. I am his biggest advocate. The sacrifices I’ve made in order to give him the best me I had available, are extraordinary. I’ve tried to do an unimaginable task, be as present, aware, and available as I could be, while dealing with everything that you’ve been reading pertaining to these “parts” of my life.
When he was very young I didn’t want ANYONE around him, without me there. I was so cautious, nervous, and deliberately overprotective. His mom once asked me, “Do you think you’re more mommy than me?” because I was so reluctant to relinquish my grasp on everything that had to do with him.
As he got older I explained to him that when I was young and vulnerable in age I’d been molested and exposed to sex way before I should have been. I didn’t want that for him. I prayed that to not be his story. I grilled him every chance I got about what and who he’d been exposed to. I have always- since he was born- communicated with him that he can always communicate with me. I will always be here. If he knows nothing else, he knows that to be true.
I’ve always told him that because no one ever asked if was okay or if I needed to talk, especially when I was being touched, I was going to make for damn sure that he would never have that story. So I talk to him. HE knows that I will always listen too. There is nothing off the table between us.
The relationship between his mom and I didn’t work out. That has never been an issue to my son. I will say this, she has never gotten in the way of me parenting my son. We may not agree on much of anything, but she has always recognized and respected that I have his best interest at heart. I thank God for that part, always.
I’ve never allowed anything that she and I had, in differences, to impress, influence, or impact him either. To this day, he’s never heard me say a negative word about his mother. My stance has always been that he honor, respect, and protect her. I have never done, nor would I ever do, anything to cause friction to or for them. Even if that meant my being the villain, problem, or whatever reason needed for them to flourish, I’d be it. I applaud who he has as a family on their side. I am forever grateful to the support and system he has with them. I thank God constantly for the consistency he has with them.
About 8 years ago I told my son that I was about to go into a season of getting myself together. I needed to heal and I knew it. I told him that I was going to step back from trying to force a certain cohesion between his mom and I. He was 10! But if you ask him today, he’ll tell you that we had that conversation. He remembers a specific part of the conversation: I told him, “When you’re 18, you’re mine”. That probably sounds crazy to y’all but what I meant was that as he entered manhood I’d be there more than ever. Although he doesn’t feel like I ever left, I knew that over the last 8 years I would be working through the issues that you’ve been reading over the past few weeks.
And God had me. Whole time.
He made sure that one thing I’ve not had to worry about is my son. While I was dealing with what I was dealing with, as I was taking back my feeling, from the numbness that had for so long stricken me paralyzed, this child of mine… listen.
The other day, while talking to my dad, he told me:
“Whatever you have to do to get this out of you, so that you can move on, do it. You have my blessing.”
I didn’t need his blessing. But the apology that he gave me right before it, was life changing.
The day after that, I was talking to my son and I apologized to him for not being more. My son told me that I had been more.
I’ve never been part of a more beautiful disagreement.
In all of that I realized this:
Parents, apologize to your children. For the real things. For your real mistakes. For your real fvck-ups.
If children never get an apology, it’s hard as hell for them to know how to give one. Especially the meaningful ones. Especially when they grow up.
Until recently, I’d never gotten the apologies that I needed. That I deserved. And I’ve never ever really given the apologies that were needed, that were deserved.
Earlier today a family member called and apologized. She said it has been so hard reading my posts, knowing that all of it is true. Knowing that she is one of the “everyone” that abandoned and deserted us. She apologized for her ignorance, indifference, and her absence. She told me that she knows there is nothing that she can say or do other than what I decide can be said or done to help me heal.
That apology hit different.
Her apology today penetrated deeper than the one yesterday. And that one, deeper than the one that came prior.
The feeling helped me realize what I’d been missing. There is a validation and vindication that comes when someone apologizes for where they offended you.
Today, I realized what some people are missing from me. All of my trauma aside, I’ve done some terrible things. Been in some terrible seasons. I’ve caught some storms. I’ve caused some too.
If hurt people hurt people…
I think I know what healed people do.
-see
©️2023 Cornelious “See” Flowers
