Sofia's Stretchmarks

This is one of many drafts I have written but have been too lazy to proofread and edit, so I have held off.

I initially drafted this post in February and hoped to publish it before Ramadan; I’m grateful I didn’t now. Ramadan allowed me to deeply reflect within myself and reframe some of my thinking. Ramadan is a mercy and a blessing to those who participate and believe. In my original draft, this was very much a “fuck forgiveness, I don’t owe anybody an ounce of my forgiveness” piece.
The art of forgiveness is something I am yet to fully master. My ability to hold on is lethal. “Sofia, that was 10 years ago” yes, and I still wish I could beat them up. All I ever want is a “sorry”. In the words of Elton John, sorry really does seem to be the hardest word. Fortunately for me, the past has left me a well-seasoned pro at processing my feelings in a healthy way, maybe not the healthiest, but definitely in a way where I’m able to move forward without feeling sick to my stomach for months on end.

But again, sorry seems to be the hardest word and, unfortunately, it’s all I ever want to hear. Even if it lacks sincerity, I know, shoot me, why would you want an empty apology? I’m not entirely sure, but from what I can loosely gather, it’s something about the effort it takes to say sorry. Even if the person doesn’t mean it, they are publicly accepting fault. I once skipped a cousin’s wedding because they failed to apologise. I have cut off friendships of many, many years because of a failure to say sorry. My relationship with my dad is dead in the water because he has failed to say sorry. I’m not mad or sad about it, but what I *am* mad and sad about is the gnawing feeling I get from time to time because I haven’t received my “sorry” yet.

I’ve had space to really think about this recently in a way that I hadn’t done before, as a means of ticking off boxes to become a more resilient person, and my findings are as follows:
I have a really deep-seated sense of justice and, although this is an amazing trait to have as it has allowed me to be highly engaged with the world around me, always seek to stand on the right side of things, and actively combat things that are unjust, it has left me open to my own personal turmoil and an inability to let go.
Unsurprisingly, things are out of my control and I must come to a harsh acceptance of this. I can explain my feelings until I am blue in the face, but that will not make someone understand or, potentially, care.

A lack of an apology isn’t always necessarily a denial of fault, but instead cowardice and fear within the party in question. Apologising, even if empty, means a social acceptance of something not nice. We as people, even myself, hate to see and acknowledge the ugly behaviour we have put out into the world, and we can struggle to truly think about the real-world impact of it.
Holding on to things is detrimental. I didn’t realise how detrimental previously because everything else going on in my head was far more chaotic and damaging, but with peace and quiet in my mind, I am now able to tackle the significant but smaller remnants of the chaos.

Perhaps it is empowering to let go and not let things have any power over you. I’m not there yet, but the cogs are turning and the trajectory is always going to be up from here. All I ever want is a “sorry”, but you don’t need to apologise to be wrong– you’re still wrong, but I have the capacity to move on from it, slowly but surely. Maybe this is my version of forgiveness. Forgiveness for me is found in being able to truly let go.