I am not comfortable commenting on this, no just joking. Surprisingly I joke just after I shared with you about beating up my poor sister many years ago. Here is a comfort zone: how others mistreated me when I was a child, not that comfortable but relative to the next thing:

Not comfortable zone: how I mistreated a child, my sister when I was eight or so, maybe later, I don’t remember, don’t want to remember. And another thing I did, in my very early thirties, I had a fight with her, she was twenty four or so, and I placed my hands around her neck and squeezed, as in strangling her. It was night time. And then I heard a child’s voice saying my name and then saying: DON’T. I realized it was my two year old nephew there. I let go and told him how sorry I was.

This is an uncomfortable zone for me, me as the victimizer. I am choosing to live so I have to live with knowing what I did. I have to live with knowing I scared an innocent little boy, looking like I was trying to kill his mother. I live seeing those eyes looking up to me. Seeing his eyes looking up to me at other times and me feeling i was not worthy of his trust.

I asked his forgiveness and his mother’s and I sent them both money, lots of money for therapy and what else. Years ago. But it doesn’t take away my sorrow, the knowing I did it. ANd I can’t undo it.

anita