How I learned to forgive

As the child of an alcoholic father, I went through a time in my life when I longed for a sense of peace about what I perceived was a lost childhood. I felt plagued by instability, memories of humiliating incidents, and laments about opportunities that seemed to have been stolen away. Worst of all was the belief that I hated my father.

There was a bumper sticker that came out about this time that stated, “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.” I longed to embrace that sentiment but felt trapped between deep resentment for what I perceived this parent had done to ruin our family, and the desire to feel released from such nonproductive thinking.

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