These Are My Mistakes

I have just started reading Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Here's this from page 19:

Forgive me for stating the obvious, but the world is made up of all kinds of people. Other people have their own values to live by, and the same holds true with me. These differences give rise to disagreements, and the combination of these disagreements can give rise to even greater misunderstandings. As a result, sometimes people are unfairly criticized. This goes without saying. It's not much fun to be misunderstood or criticized, but rather a painful experience that hurts people deeply.

As I've gotten older, though, I've gradually come to the realization that this kind of pain and hurt is a necessary part of life. If you think about it, it's precisely because people are different from others that they're able to create their own independent selves.

Reading these words makes me want to write publicly about a recent fight I had with one of my sisters.

Some brutal things were said that sliced and pried and beheaded. They were projected in anger but were propelled by love. Families, especially close ones like mine, are perhaps too concerned with each other's happiness, but with the dynamic of four sisters, maybe it just goes with the territory.

I guess this post is part confession, part acceptance and part apology. I said things that were unkind and I wrote hurtful words I can't retract. These are my mistakes and when I've finished analysing them with regret, I will add them to the list of other mistakes I have made. I will look at them from time to time and I will feel sorry, but also OK about the fact that I made them and did them and yelled them and penned them, because they are mine now.

I have learnt that people's definition of honesty can vary hugely and, even though I reeled at some of the things that passed between us, I am thankful for her arrows that reached their target because even though they hurt, they needed to.