A post wrote not long ago, but before I discovered the horrible truth about my man, revealed how much I hurt when my mother asked me if I could forgive her sex offender husband so she could stay with him.
I hate that my own sex offender love has turned me into my mother. If I do decide that loving him is worth the pain of trying to make it work, I may lose my son and access to potential future grandchildren if my boy’s girlfriend is unable to forgive.
I will never ask them if they can forgive. I cannot perpetrate the same offense my mother foisted upon me.
Talk about inducing PTSD. It has taken me a month to even be able to pee in the main bathroom of my home because the anxiety is overwhelming. Every time I set foot in the room the pain is overwhelming and fresh as the moment I saw the evidence of his greatest betrayal in that space.
If HE is able to bridge the gap and help his victim heal and forgive, without my asking the girl to make the choice so I can be with him, perhaps there is hope. My adoptive father never truly admitted or asked forgiveness (there was the forced letter as part of his alcohol rehab), much less demonstrated remorse. I tolerated him back in the home after that terrible position mother placed me in to choose for her, and I hated her for that as much, maybe even more than I hated the man who rightly earned the title sex offender.
My man did not molest her. But it was an offense that could legally earn him that label.
I keep asking myself what I did wrong, because it is easier to blame myself than to blame him. I carry the guilt for the world