Stacy was older and definitely way cooler than me. Somehow she chose to maintain a friendship with me, despite the fact that she was in ninth grade and I was a lowly eighth grader (with braces, no less). At our end-of-summer sleepover, Stacy shared with me about she’d been sexually assaulted at a festival. While she tearfully recounted the details, I withdrew into stunned silence.
I was 12 and so worried about saying the wrong thing, making it worse and upsetting her even more, so I said nothing. Moreover, every element of her story was so far beyond the confines of my own life experience thus far, so my shock and naiveté left me with nothing to offer her.
That was nearly three decades ago, but whenever I thought of her, my guts tangled up in knots of shame and regret.
Stacy and I grew apart soon after that night, no surprise. Discomfort blossomed in the depths of my heart whenever I saw her in the halls of our school, or when I heard the mention of her name from mutual friends. Stacy ended up moving away and we lost touch, but the older I got, the more I heard similar stories from peers of all genders.
Unfortunately, many of us experienced trauma first-hand or in our close circles. I needed to develop a working set of skills for how to listen, support, comfort and empathize.
Yet none of that helped Stacy when she needed it. For years, I didn’t even think of her, like having a rotten tooth and simply avoiding chewing on that side to prevent the pain.
In Judaism, there are traditions for preparing to begin again in a new year. Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is truly a day of forgiveness — asking for, giving and receiving. These annual traditions expect and allow for people to ask for forgiveness.
With the ritual of tashlich, people can strive to cast off sins or mistakes by throwing bread into water, the bread symbolizing the sin, and the act of throwing releasing the individual from the burden of carrying a regret or mistake into a fresh new year.
As a Jew, I know that these options are open to me each autumn, but I feel drawn to avenues of forgiveness that are available outside religious or seasonal confines.
Last night I couldn’t sleep, and I decided to finally open up my memories of that conversation with Stacy. I let the memory reel roll without judgment, and instead of rushing to center my own inadequacy, I focused on compassion; for Stacy, for all young people who are violated, and for the kid version of myself in that situation. That knot in my gut loosened ever so slightly.
The more gentle attention I offered up to the situation, the more it untangled. I gathered and folded all those complicated apologies that I owed to others and myself and sent them off. I considered, if it seemed appropriate and (before I lost my nerve), to mail an actual tangible letter or maybe even a text.
I internally folded and quietly liberated little floating ethereal apologies like paper cranes, each ready to catch a slight breeze and hopefully soften the harm I’d inadvertently caused. A few of those little cranes circled right around and landed back with me, soothing that snarl of sadness over my mistake all those years ago.
When something terrible happens, we send our prayers. When we’re hoping for good news for someone, we send our “good vibes” or cross fingers (and maybe even toes, too). But what if we need to apologize? How do we repair when distance, time, or weirdness makes healing a rift nearly impossible?
What if we can fold paper cranes of apology and peace to smooth and soothe even the longest-festering aches and pains?
Sometimes, for whatever reason, we don’t bring our best. Circumstance, age, timing, culture and environment can all contribute to compounding a situation that’s already difficult, fraught and painful. Maybe we aren’t who we want to or aspire to be, and yet we still deserve to send and receive self-compassion. Maybe we did our best, and things were still messy.
I hate to admit it, but that’s life. There will always be mess, pain and mistakes. What’s worse, not every mistake can be fully healed, nor can every distance be spanned after years of compounded pain or neglect. Sometimes, the only thing left to do is forgive and heal ourselves. Often, we still have to do our best at offering amends, even long after the misstep. Above all else, please go easy on each other and yourselves, my friends.
Happily, apologies and healing can start today. You can fold and send some paper cranes, and I suspect that quite a few will land right back with you, since you deserve forgiveness. Yes, you.
This year, Yom Kippur will be observed on Oct. 4 to 5, but asking for and granting forgiveness is open to all of us at any time.
My gentle questions for you: Who might you offer an apology to? How can you forgive yourself? Where will your cranes land?
Chelsea Sunday Kline is an author and big hugger who was recently appointed the executive director at Cancer Connection.