Healing Through Tears: A Young Offender's Path to Forgiveness

Excerpts from a sixteen year old offender who was caught stealing from a vehicle—she wrote this as part of her sanctions:

Before the circle beganAs soon as I entered the room, I wanted to turn myself around.  I wanted to push the bad things away, as if they had never even happened.  I wanted to drive back home, go straight to my bed, curl up in a ball and repeat the same sentences over and over, like I had done every other night for the past month: “You’re a good person, everything will be fine.”  But the sad thing about repeating words too much is that they soon begin to lose meaning, and, eventually, they become meaningless.  No matter how much I tried to comfort myself with these words, I felt I was lying to myself.  I thought, “How can I be a good person when I’ve done these things?  Good people don’t do the kinds of things I’ve done.”

…I sat down not making eye contact with anyone else that sat in the small circle.  I was too ashamed, too terrified.  …There was no way I was going to make it through this without crying.  Not a chance.

During the circle when the offender was asked to explain how she had been feeling since the incident:I really thought about it and told the absolute truth.  “I found it hard to sleep at night” I managed to spit out.  And it was true.  The past month had seemed like a year.  The guilt picked at me, especially at night when it was too quiet, and I could no long ignore my thoughts.

During the circle when the victim was asked to share her feelings:“I felt like a victim.  I couldn’t even feel safe in my own home,” she said.  I could feel my tears burning.  This woman and her family didn’t feel safe.  I was to blame.

Thoughts of how the offender’s family was affected came to her during the circle:  We all sat in silence.  I don’t remember much about what was said, but my father began to cry.  He buried his face into his hands and sobbed.  I had never felt so horrible in my entire life.  I wanted to tell him that none of this was his fault, and I wanted to let him know that he was doing a great job raising three kids on his own, and that this stupid mistake I had made had nothing to do with him. But I couldn’t talk.

The circle continued…So there I sat still playing with my elastic band.  I listened to how what I did affected everyone else’s lives.  I tried not to cry.  I even held my breath but nothing could stop the tears. 

The facilitator asked the offender if she had anything she wished to say to those affected and the offender took out a letter of apology she had prepared:By the end of my apology letter, warm tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, and the people across from me had told me that they forgave me.  The woman even gave me a hug!  Though I continued to cry, it felt like a different kind of cry.  It was like the two heaviest rocks had been lifted off my shoulders.  The tears I was crying were tears of relief, and it was the best I’ve felt in a while.  I walked out of that room feeling like a new person.  As corny as that sounds, it was true.  I did walk out of that room as a new person.  I was proud of myself, for finally being able to own up to what I had done.