Your ministry is where your misery has been #Tell your story (Stars' Story)

WE ALL HAVE A STORY TO TELL

I have had the pleasure of interacting with a wonderful young lady named Dinaledi Mosa Tleane. I call her Stars. Thats a fitting name (she is bright, she is vibrant, she is witty, aims high, stylish and works hard). We connect in many different ways that are neither describeable nor fathomable. We click. This young lady has such depth in her character, how many times do you come across a 24 year old who loves  and understands Jazz Music? Im talking Nina Simone, Chris Botti and the like. Her confidence allows her to take long and comfortable strolls to places where other females her age wouldnt dare step. I have observed her humour, her straight-forward demenour, her peace and even her rage and wondered where her fire comes from.

I have learnt this analogy from her: "Sometimes in life you have to close your eyes, run as fast as you can and hit that wall with all you have. Indeed the wall may not break, but it will sure shake, and if you do it enough times...that wall will eventually break." Yep, thats my stars - high levels of profound at that age.

Below is her story. She responded to the call for us all to tell our stories. The stories that bind us and never set us free. The stories we keep to ourselves until our hearts are filled to the brim with hatred, shame and pain. Stories that affect who we are, how we relate to others, our relationships, our daily lives. Her story (unedited and in her own words is below).



" I don’t know much… All I know is that I hate him. And many nights I prayed for his death.
I am battling with words…
Rather I am battling with hatred and fear.
I hate him so much… that I feel so stupid. I know better not to waste feelings on such a person. I know better to not give a hell about him. But I do….
So many nights I prayed that he would love us. All we got from him was a beating…
I am battling with words…
I’m battling with emotions…
He beat her; he chased us on the streets in the middle of the night… At times, bare footed, other times barely dressed.
He broke her nose one time… and chased us out when we tried to intervene.
Most Friday nights, we spent at the police station... all four of us.

I remember one summer evening. The clouds were heavily pregnant… and I could feel thunder and lightning storm brewing.
It rained hard… and the thunder was just too loud, and lightning was just too bright. It poured like hell, and once again we were on the streets… Trying to find a place to lay our heads… He kicked us out while the storm was on. We ran, with no idea where we going. That’s where my fear of thunder and lightning comes from.

I hated her. I really did. I hated her for staying there. WHY did she stay? She should have left, maybe our childhood wouldn’t have been so screwed up…
Aaaah!!!
I am battling with words.
I am battling with HATREAD and FEAR.
I don’t want to remember. And I have done well to hide these things… I have done well in living a lie.
I hate him so much that I shake when I think about him.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It could take me a year to tell you the truth about us. And that would only be a percentage of it.
When my peers dreamt of their wedding days, I dreamt of the day he died. Oh how happy I would have been. No wonder none of my relationships work out. I am always on the lookout of “him” in every man I date. And I always find it.

Honesty… If I never had to see him again, I would be the happiest person alive. But see, for now, he has a hold over us. And it is my mission to break that hold. I work hard every day, just so that I can buy my mom her OWN house. NOT a house jointly owned with him.
I want him to suffer and it is ridiculous because he doesn’t give a F@%k about me nor my feelings.
All I know is I want him to pay a very hefty price.
I’m also terrified. By rate that I am going, I will collapse and probably not wake up. I know that I need to forgive and move on. But how do I forgive someone who feels like they haven’t wrong me?
Can I just get what I want for a change? Can I be genuinely happy?
I am battling with words.
I rather speak… and tell the Truth about us."

Your ministry is where your misery has been - tell your story.
There is some little girl out there who can be saved or healed by your story. She needs to hear not only about your success but also about what pains you, about your failures. Tell your story.

You're loved
MM

I admit to you and sundry.....and its okay

“For He has not given us the spirit of fear and timidity, but of Power, Love and Sound mind”

(2 Timothy 1:7)

This is my affirmation, my confirmation, my authorization from a power equal to none.

I say it and recite it, each time with emphasis on a different word, yet I still find myself enveloped by fear.

I am scared

Scared to live on, scared to die

Scared to be defeated, scared to conquer

Scared to be right about myself and even to be wrong about others

I am scared of failure as much as I am scared of success

Scared to decide or make a stand, scared to be counted or even ignored

In a state of analysis paralysis, asphyxiations of anxiety

I am afraid to let go but too frightened to hold on

Fearful to give up, and scared to persevere

You see the theory is not similar to the practice; one has throbbing heart beats while the other is nothing more than words

I have read the quotes, narrated the mantras and internalized the pep-talks

I’m terrified of commissions and omissions, supplications and demands

I’m scared to admit or deny, scared to acknowledge and recognize what is from what isn’t

Scared to be vulnerable or sheltered

Scared to be exposed or protected

Scared to heal and deal, scared to worsen and aggravate sleeping demons

Terrified to burden them by letting them through the door, petrified to shut them out

I stand still, horrified of my bright future, ashamed of my past

I dare not look up as you might recognize the fear in my outlook

As you might spot the panic in my gracious smile

Everyday I am woken up by a rush of adrenalin, edgy and consumed

My questions, my answers, my utterances and my opinions are fear based

Terror speaks through me, it speaks for me. My words are seldom mine

I say it well because I carry it well

Each day brings an opportunity to have a conversation with one or more of my fears

I choose whether it’s friendly or hostile, it’s almost always the latter

Pushes me to nasty confrontations, never soft whispers and pillow talk

Fear is my currency – I trade in it. I often exchange it for love.

It’s never a fair trade as one cancels the other out, unfairly so

I keep running, even in my dreams I gallop in fear

Instead of running from it, I run with it as it is part of my psyche

I admit to you and sundry; I am scared. And its okay.

You’re loved

M.M

Its much much easier to say than to do!

Its been a very tough and draining time for me. I have had so much to share, to say, to write to make sense of. I have had so many thoughts, some completely abstract, come and rent space in my head. I have not found nor made the time to sift through them and make sense of them, but I found in important to say this.

You can read books as thick as your well toned thighs, with big words that neither you nor your learned friends can pronounce. You can google and research. You can write and read thesis'. You can listen and educate yourself on issues. You can have a PHD degree Cum Laude on phylosophy or pshychology. Your title can be Proff or Dr....some issues you will never comprehend until you have gone through them.

Its so easy to stand on the outside to give instructions, to question and judge from the outside. Its easy to point a finger. Its a breeze to say : Build a bridge and get over it or the more common 'move on'. Its easier to say than to do. We forget that context plays a huge role, then there is background, upbringing, beliefs, habits, situations, timing, faith, values etc to take into consideration. You may have been raised in the same city, by parents who earned the same, went to the same school or even better in the same household but your frame of reference is not the same. It can never be. You are two different people.

We all stand on the outside and make interesting yet wrong pronouncements on what we would have done had we been in the same situations. There's nothing wrong with advise - it always comes from a good place, from people who care; mara we have to understand and embrace the peace in our souls if and when our advise is not been taken. It is afterall a 'use it' - 'dont use it' situation.

You will never know, no matter how learned or trained you are, until you have gone through the same situation. So lets not judge or question from a place of authority as if we have been there ourselves. Our place is to support, intercede in the form of prayer and listen (some talk more than the aggrieved person - haaiboh). They seem to know more about the situation than the soul thats going through it.

We need to allow and empower individuals to heal and deal in a manner that speaks to their spiritual and mental capacity. Permit them to operate in their own vision.Yes you may be a stronger person but that's you . There is a serious issue with imposing our strength on others. You see they may take your strength, embody it, move and deal at your pace and tone....very soon they will bomb out, simply because they are operating outside on their capabilities. Being forceful and judgemental can only alienate the person concerned.

Indeed there is always a place for guidance from an objective source, that helps put things in perspective and may be able to device a  way forward.
You'r loved
M.M

Your ministry is where your misery has been #My story

November 2010 and I find myself reliving very painful memories because of what is in the headlines this week. I find myself literally chocking, unable to breath or think. The flashbacks haunt me in my sleep till this very day.

Let me take you back to 1988, I was 7 yrs old when an uncle from Malawi came to live with us. Those of you who grew up koKasi will know what I talk about when I mention diBack-room. He was my mom’s cousin from Malawi who had come to seek the ‘Gauta’ in Gauteng. He was quite an animated character, full of life and energy, he was playful at the worst of times, he spoke funny (think Chirwali – Mzini wezinsizwa) and I obviously took a liking to this guy because I was the only child in a house full of serious adults. I, as a result, ended up spending a lot of time in the back-room. I remember he had this fascinating ghetto-bluster radio thing that would light up all colors of the rainbow when it was lit.

On one particular day, I was in his room as it was the norm after school. I noticed him massaging his ‘down-there’ with me in the room; in my innocence I giggled (as a little girl would) and let it go. A couple of days later it happened again, but this time he asked me to touch him, it felt all sort of wrong but I did it. This happened often for months. He gave me strict instructions not to tell anybody, he threatened me. I never told a soul. It got worse. One day he took all his clothes off and asked me to touch his manhood. I remember my skinny light skinned small hand on him, this was wrong and I knew it. From that day on this man continued to abuse me at every opportunity he got. The one day he made me sit on top of him, I remember screaming in pain. I really had no idea what was going on or whether what was happening had a name; was this love? It was pain I had never felt before. My innocence had been taken by a trusted adult. Here is the thing right, I thought this was normal. That it happens to everyone but my gutt disagreed, my being knew better, even at that tender age.

A couple of years later he left our home and went to live elsewhere. I carried it with me for a long time. I somehow managed to block it out of my life as with many bad things that happened in my childhood. For many years I never thought about it, it never crossed my mind until one day my mom told me that he had passed away after a long illness. I don’t remember how old I was at this time, but I remember secretly rejoicing that at least I was guaranteed that no-one would ever find out how I allowed myself to be violated by my uncle.  A part of me still feels like I allowed it. I remember being particularly jovial at his funeral – a little guilty though but relieved that he would be buried with the shame and anguish I had buried so deep inside me.

Fast forward to 1997, High School in Rustenburg. We had bunked boarding hostel to go out with friends for the weekend. Some boys had come to pick us up to take us to some village about 30minutes away from the school premises. I was with 2 of my girlfriends and these boys, one of which went to our school. The party was lousy, almost hilariously so, but we decided that since we were there we would make the best of it. We danced until our legs couldn’t take it and eventually it was time to sleep. I chose a room in some seedy motel and fell asleep. One of the guys we were with who liked me came in with a gun in his hand. I kept calm and pretended to be sleeping. He took off his pants, my heart started racing. I remember him telling me not to scream as he raped me with a gun in his hand. I remember trying to fight but my body failing me and completely paralyzed by the fear. In my head I was fighting, I was using my legs and hands to fight but the reality is that I just lied there. The memories of my uncle many years before came to poke me in the soul. I remember going numb and the only thing I could feel were the tears streaming down my face, past my temples and into my ears. He finished, and lied there next to me. I stayed awake till the next morning. Walked out of there, found my friends and went back to school. Yet again I never told a soul. I was too scared to tell anyone, especially my parents. On Monday he started telling people I was his girlfriend, it infuriated me yet I still felt too paralyzed to react. This was my fault again. On good days I know better, on bad days the pain is unbearable- but in God I trust.

I read Akona’s story yesterday. Mine is no better than hers, it’s very much like hers. She did it first and I applaud her for it. It inspired me. I am number 2. I pray that there will a number 3, number 4, number 5, number 30, number 10 000. Let’s tell our stories and continue to shout NO. Apparently only 1 in 9 rape cases are reported. If you are one of the 8 –BUA !!! – help some little girl in the same situation. SOMETHING MUST BE DONE!

Your ministry is where your misery has been!

You’re loved

Mmulelantlu More

The Alpha Female

I have often been referred to as an alpha female, by completely unrelated parties. It’s a topic I find interesting to say the least. I have bought books on it and often research character traits of an alpha-female. Each time I read up on it, I vehemently disagree with a lot of points “am I really like that?” but at the same time there are others that jump out at me. It would be self denial to not embrace some aspects of the fact that I’m an ALPHA FEMALE.

Let me start by defining what an ALPHA FEMALE is. She is a prototypical woman. There is none like her. Very similar traits to her counterpart and ideal partner and lover THE ALPHA MALE. An Alpha Female is a dominant female in a group. She dates as many males as she wants, is strong and confident, and a hard worker as well as often busy. She is usually sarcastic because she's powerful and playful. Alpha Females are intelligent, intellectual problem solvers; and though being an alpha female is more of a state of mind than a physicality, an alpha understands that dressing up or sexy increases her power in society, so she does it. Its really like Alpha Females were given a pep-talk at birth, before being weighed they were told to win at all costs, to use whatever at their disposal to dominate.

Will be making reference to Beta personalities (male and female), so let me explain this to you. Beta personalities are unremarkable, careful people who avoid confrontatin and keep the peac even if its to their own detriment. They lack the physical presence, charisma and confidence of the Alpha personalities. They are often smart but no-one is ever aware because of their timid nature.

Alpha Females are often terribly misunderstood by Beta personalities, and when this happens, she's called a bitch, a whore, cold or stuck-up. She is neither a bitch nor a saint. She simply wins at all costs. Alpha Females prefer passion over romance, although if it's romance coming from an Alpha Male, a blazing one, that's another story...(for another blog)

Now that we’ve touched on the issue of romance, lets dissect it a bit. A man whether Beta or Alpha will never forget an Alpha Female. “An alpha female is full of contradictions often keeping her male partner in a suspended state, not sure exactly what to do with her…” There’s always that one man or woman in our lives, if we are well socialized we’ll have two or three, that will stand head and shoulders above the rest. Remember we are not talking physical attributes here. We are talking poise, charm, vigor - a sense of being. The Alpha female is that mould that most men will hold the Beta woman up against. So if you have a string of ex’s who keep wanting to come back and consume you, even if its just to chat, ask for guidance on matters or just linger in your space - chances are you are an alpha female.

Although the Alpha Female is almost always a very reasonable at the worst of times. You are unlikely to see a tamper tamtrum or a hair out of place because he happens to be flirting with a beta female across the room.Her confidence is mind-blowing - refer to the pep-talk she received at birth. She is almost always put together, hardly holds any punches - its the element of surprise that the men enjoy. You never know whether she will enter from the back or the front or even make an appearance at all. 

The one day she is likely to be flirty, giggly, willing to be dined and swept off her feet. She'll humour your romantic advances, even seem girly. A couple of days later she may not answer nor return your calls, she may be reserved and cold, disappears for a few days. She is elusive. Beta men don’t quite have a handle on the alpha female and quickly take any form of distance as a sign of rejection. This is a red flag for an alpha female. An Alpha Females have Beta Males for breakfast.

She’ll usually keep an air of mystery, until she finds her compatible alpha male.  In the meantime, she will keep men in suspended states. Oftentimes, this may cost her a few good ones along the way.  The reason is  simple: she can’t completely be herself until she can see her future in this man’s eyes.  It may be a life long quest, but until that magnificent feeling, she will use her powers to entertain her.  On another note:  Beta men are easily offended, move on quickly, because they are quite undecisive. Where as the alpha male who is her top pick, finds his alpha females more of a challenge, a woman to be conquered. He may not react right away, and spend time with betas, but eventually he’ll make his way back to her. He has more women around him to choose from, and because of his need to sire alpha children he will choose his alpha female counterpart if she’s available (unfortunately, she usually isn’t because the numbers are few) to mate with. These unions usually create something spectacular in way of legacy and alpha progeny. Now, he can move on, but an alpha female won’t let him get away that easily, especially if he’s of high net worth or social status. This sounds bad, but its true.

It's important to note that she does not do all that she does in a quest to be dominant or manipulative. She just has to win. All that she does is in her quest for survival and success.

Alpha Female (sometimes)

M.M

Breaking down the walls.....only to build them again.

He didn’t fit the mould, although a beautiful man in many aspects, it was his behaviour that was out of the norm for her. You see, this man knew what he wanted, he even knew how to articulate it and carry it through. It was as if he’d dropped from the sky, like manna from heaven. Here he was, taking her in, allowing her to enter into the deep spiritual crevices of his existence. She didn’t have to guess how he felt about her, it was all evident in his actions, it was more in his look than it was in what he said. She listened to his deeds. There were no blurry lines. She questioned it, but no to him, to herself, to the universe. She unwillingly found herself slipping into that familiar world of doubts,  ‘ It’s too good to be true’. The days came, then they went. The weeks came and they too left. He was reliable and all together consuming. She waited for the tragedy, very impatiently waited for him to slither in the ‘men are all the same' mould. She waited to be proved right, as she often was – ‘all the good ones are taken’. She still waits...

You see, she is wired to wonder, it’s in her DNA, it’s scars of the past that she tries to cover with a bold smile and any form of outer armour. They’d loved her and left her before. She too had loved and walked. She’d been used and discarded many a times. There were demons of an evil nature that had been brought about by the past that needed to be suppressed and omitted. She sub-consciously carried pain on her shoulders and constantly fought to keep her head up. She did exceptionally well. So well that nobody ,accept the child she had been, knew just how heavy a burden she was carrying. She never entirely felt worthy of his love but somehow managed to be herself in their relations. She drew from her best and became the woman she thought herself to be. No, she didn’t lack self-confidence and had a healthy esteem – well outwardly anyway. Here was a man who in the first 48hours of exchanging pleasantries declared a desire to spend infinity with her. Slowly, and without pressure, she dropped the protective covering. She found herself unintentionally exposed again. Willing to lick every drop of that syrupy , seemingly unconditionally warm love.

He had this well of wisdom that she constantly drank from. She was never thirsty, in-fact almost greedy and kept wanting to drink till all her insides were drowning and gasping, only coming up for air only when the world needed her. He would talk about what he knows even admitting what he didn’t, she has never come across that kind of honesty and modest strength from a man. She was drawn to his mind, his heart, his compelling aura, his energy and his boundless beauty. She was inspired to trust him, pushed to fall to a soft landing.

Their courtship peaked in winter. It was the warmest she’d ever seen. She felt the heat from inside and it warmed her on the outside and resulted in a glow that even the blind could see. They hadn’t been dating long but from the beginning it seemed their entire relationship was based on painting pretty pictures, filled with colour and texture, of their future together. She felt that although she had made many mistakes in the past, some of which she was still paying for, gravely, there was definite favour from above, she was doing something  right as she has now landed this diamond that didn’t need effort nor cutting. It was polished, shiny and with very high carats – more importantly it was hers.

She had never been that sure of a man’s fidelity than at that particular time. His dedication and concern for her were above reproach. He sheltered and protected her, yet he was firm and assertive in order to shake that wall that those gone by had built. Eventually the wall had shaken so much that it began to fall. He saw in her what no-one had seen in her, looking through the eyes of glory and favour.

He was gone by the summer...the wall goes up again. They talk about reasons, seasons and lifetimes. Reason: he came to demolish the wall. Season : to keep her warm in her spiritual winter. Lifetime : to alert her to the fact that its possible to turn bricks into syrup.


You're loved.
M.M

Joe Sample & Lalah Hathaway - When Your Life Was Low - (I WISH THIS WAS A LOVE SONG)

BE OF PRESENT MIND...

Be of present mind...

So I’m in a maxi-cab or whatever they are called. It’s after work, it’s getting dark. I have decided to take this time to write and offload. Its uncanny how when I didn’t drive I would have given a limb (as long as it didn’t hamper me from driving in the future) to be in traffic, in my own car, rocking my favourite tunes – driving home. Now that that is possible I take it for granted. I now want a better car, I now want to work from home, I’m aspiring for to sit at the back of my Rolls Royce with the newspaper and have a white blonde good-looking man drive me around, to afford never to be stuck in traffic. Be aware that I’m not where I thought I would be, there’s still a great distance between where I am and where I had planned to be. There is still a lot to be done, more to be said and to be observed.

With all this said, I acknowledge that in my head I’m living in the future. I dwell on how I hope things will be and merely visit what they actually and realistically are. I can hear you say – there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, aspirations can never be sins. True, yet there is a definite magic in ‘being present’ or rather ‘being of present mind’. I find that I’m missing the splendour of what now carries by being pre-occupied and restless about what the future might hold.

I liken it to walking on plush green grass, with budding, fragrant and stunning roses on either side but never noticing it because you are staring so far into the horizon, focusing so much on where you are going that you forget to really feel the comfort of the grass on your feet, you don’t notice the colours and beauty of the roses, you don’t hear the singing of the birds of the present but in your ears rings the orchestra of the future. Suddenly, you trip on a rock that was right in front of you – that you failed to see. Now you are forced to stare blankly at the very grass that was in front of you, the very same green that carries you to your beautiful orchestra, that delivers you to your supposedly bright future. Yes, my dear friend, it’s the very same earth that cushioned your fall. That grass is the now. That lawn is the present.

Now we’ve all heard the old sayings – ‘save for a rainy day’ and ‘the best days of your life are ahead of you and not behind you’. How about we say :enjoy the fruit of your sweat, tears and hard-earned education whilst you still have the teeth to look in the mirror and smile at your achievements. How about we say: the best days of your life are right now but you too busy  zooming in on the mistakes of your past and putting undue spotlight on the prospects. More simply put: BE OF PRESENT MIND.

As you read this, you have internet access, probably have two cell-phones, an above average roof-over your head, a degree or two, a cupboard full of designer clothes and a mode of transport to you to convey you from one hot spot to another. Eintlik, you can easily be referred to as John Blaze (or Jo-Anne Blaze for political correctness). Take stock of the now, the tomorrow isn’t cast in iron, yesterday might as well be a drop in the sea. Now is what you know, it’s what you are, it’s what you have become, its guaranteed for it IS happening. BE OF PRESENT MIND.

Being of present mind is about applying your mind, your being, your heart, your actions and all the components that sum up your being to what the universe had landed in your lap right now. I’m of the opinion that if you do this, then your tomorrow will be just as you expect and maybe even more. Pay attention, notice the colours, smells, auras, textures, the timing, the feelings, the posture, the temperament and other elements of your environment that allow you to be more receptive. Acknowledge the people around you now, pay attention to who they are, what they prefer and what currency they trade in, what they say – even what they don’t articulate. Do not have a conversation with someone whilst your mind is on your next appointment. Cherish the partner you have now and stop fantasizing about the phantom you’ve created in your mind for your pseudo existence in ten years time. Does that not allow for better relations, which will inevitably lead to prosperous dealings? Love what has been granted to you now - BE OF PRESENT HEART.

We often pray for this, that or the other but then we move on to the next request without being still and paying attention to the what type of answer God sends our way. We wait for lightning bolts from the heavens. Whilst the solution to our anguish is right in front of our wondering eyes. It could be the cleaner you refuse to have a conversation with in the lift ( he’s just not your type girl, he isn’t in the same LSM level) or a piece of paper you come across but never read as it’s not written in Sussex or UCT language, (neither is it presented in glittering sexy font) that may contain or offer the information we need to carry us to another glory. Be spiritually aware to hear from God, in order to do this you need to pay attention. In a nutshell – BE OF PRESENT MIND.

You’re loved

M.M

India Arie-Heart of the Matter

What I know for sure ....(Part2)

I know for sure that we are all striving for some type of significance, we have a need to be important to others, a need to feel needed and appreciated. I know with some degree of certainty that the very humans we look to for significance and acceptance don't always grant it to us as easily as we expect them to. They are often seeking the same that we seek from them elsewhere. What works is for you to be 'self-significant', accept yourself - warts and all with the same degree of expectation that you would command from another human.


I know for sure that we all have a child inside, sometimes we have to search through puddles of blood, scars sweat to find that giggling, chubby faced, inquisitive child whose arms are wide open asking to be picked up. That child comes out when we giggle, when we actively chase our dreams and inquire about our surroundings. That child shows his/her face when we crawl into foetal position and cry ourselves to sleep after being rejected. As TD Jakes so well puts it - What we call intimacy as adults is really allowing some other adult the privilege to see the child we hide under adult flesh.


I have recently learnt and now know for sure that sex doesn't have as much power as we grant it. It all starts in the mind. Our God-granted minds are way more powerful than the body. The body's might is all controlled from the mind. Sex and all things that claim power over us must be managed and controlled from the mind which has the power to differentiate between right and wrong.

What I know for sure....

The more I learn, the less I seem to know. I have had to re-learn everything I thought I knew about love, life, relations and peace of mind. What I know for sure is based on my background and experiences.

I know for sure that God is alive and that His plans are to prosper me and take me from strength to strength. He guides my steps, but only when I'm willing to make a move. He protects me. I also know that ALL my prayers are answered, and not necessarily in the manner I expect...that a NO from God is still an answer.

I know that there are no guarantees in life - nothing is for sure. We do our best to have insurances and soft landings, what we fail to see is that its not in our hands. Sometimes we have to close our eyes, take a deep breath and go for it. If nothing moves, we can be assured that it will shake - if that doesn't happen, we know for sure that something will be stirred on the inside of us.

I know for sure that forgiveness is liberating, if frees you of the burden of rage and condemnation. I also know that the person/s who have hurt need not be apologetic or even ask for forgiveness for us to forgive. You don't need their consent to free your soul, you don't need their permission to liberate your mind. Forgiveness is of God, so when it is hard to do, kneel and ask for a forgiving spirit - it will be given unto you.