Why I Made This Blog: My Journey from Bitterness to Forgiveness

The Blog That Changed Everything I never imagined that a single blog post would become the catalyst for my entire journey of healing. It was December 27, 2016, when I first discovered it—a blog my mother had posted months earlier containing details about my family and past that I had never intended to share with the world. Names were there: my father's, my own indirectly. My private history, suddenly public. The anger I felt was immediate and overwhelming. Who had the right to share these pieces of my life without my permission? I reached out to those involved, asking—then demanding—that the content be removed. "There are no names on it," they said. But anyone who knew our family could connect the dots. The damage was done. For years, this situation festered. What should have been a simple matter of respect for privacy became a years-long battle that pulled in extended family and old friends. The same arguments circled endlessly. The same hurts deepened with each passing month.

Seeds and Soil: Finding Metaphor in Pain Six years. That's how long this conflict continued while I remained largely silent. Six years of watching people who once claimed to love each other tear each other down. People who called themselves Christians yet seemed to have forgotten the fundamental teaching of forgiveness. During this time, I often thought about something I learned at Gospel Tabernacle in Donna Vista—the parable of the seed. In life, we can choose which part of the growth process we want to embody: The farmer who plants with intention and care The seed with potential for beautiful growth The water that nourishes and sustains The manure that, despite its nature, can enrich and fertilize Or the weed that chokes and destroys For too long, I felt like that small seed surrounded by weeds, occasionally nourished by water, sometimes buried in manure. People stepped all over me. But seeds, with the right care, can still grow—even in difficult soil. The Breaking Point March 1st marked my breaking point. After another fruitless exchange asking for my father's name to be removed from what I called "the complaint board crap," I made a decision that would change everything. If I couldn't erase the past that others had exposed, I would confront it head-on. "So I decided March 3 to get all child-support court hearing divorce papers, police records on my mom and my dad. So I have proof for what happened to me and I have it now." Those three days were among the hardest of my life. Poring over legal documents that detailed the fracturing of my family. Reading clinical accounts of events I had experienced as a child but never fully understood. Facing the reality of my parents' choices and how they shaped the man I would become.

The Unexpected Gift of Truth What began as an act of defiance—gathering evidence to refute narratives others had constructed about my life—became something entirely different. The truth, even when painful, offered clarity. For the first time, I could see the complete picture of my childhood rather than the fragmented memories and stories I'd carried. This clarity brought an unexpected realization: the blog that had caused me so much anger had ultimately led me to confront my past in ways I never would have otherwise. As I wrote in that moment of revelation: "I would've been happy to know was there. I would've been happy to find out from her, but no, I had to hear from a third-party." The manner of discovery had been wrong—hearing about deeply personal information from someone else rather than from my mother directly. But the journey it prompted was transformative. My stepdad now understood pieces of my history that helped explain who I am. I understood myself better too. The Valley of Bitterness Bitterness is a valley—easy to slide into but tremendously difficult to climb out of. Each day spent there carves the valley deeper, making escape even harder. For years, I watched as people I once respected remained trapped in this valley, recycling the same arguments, nursing the same grievances, seemingly unable to see how this bitterness was consuming them. "You guys been arguing about the same damn crap. And I say to you guys, until you stand up and forgive each other and go on with your damn life, you be doing this for six more [years] or until you all die of bitterness and anger." My words were harsh, born from frustration and my own pain. But they contained a truth I was just beginning to understand myself: forgiveness isn't about the other person deserving it. It's about refusing to let bitterness define your life.

The Daily Choice of Forgiveness Forgiveness isn't a one-time decision; it's a daily choice. Some mornings I wake up and the hurt feels fresh again. The anger threatens to return. On those days, I consciously choose to release it once more. I've learned that forgiveness doesn't mean Pretending you weren't hurt Saying what happened was okay Allowing harmful behaviors to continue Immediate reconciliation with those who hurt you Instead, forgiveness means: Acknowledging the pain but choosing not to be defined by it Releasing yourself from the burden of resentment Creating space for your own healing, regardless of others' actions Finding the freedom to move forward This understanding transformed how I viewed those involved in sharing my past. They weren't villains in my story—they were people with their own wounds, their own reasons, their own journeys. This didn't excuse their actions, but it helped me see beyond my hurt to the humanity we shared. The Seed Grows Remember that seed metaphor? I've decided to be the farmer and the water. To plant new seeds of understanding and nourish them with compassion—for myself first, then for others when I'm able. "I was a small seed, some put manure all over my seed, something came by and watered it. Some people stepped all over it... But when you grow up you can be plucked. And sent to somebody for nutrients. Or maybe just help them through their day with some flowers." This blog exists because I finally understood the power of that metaphor. Every difficult experience—even the manure, even the trampling—contributed to my growth. Now, having grown through this process, I can offer something beautiful to others walking similar paths. Why This Blog Exists This blog isn't about music instruction alone, though that's part of what I do. It's about the harmony we create in our lives when we transform discord into something beautiful. It's about the rhythms of healing and the melodies of forgiveness. I created this space to: Document my ongoing journey from bitterness to forgiveness, providing myself with accountability and perspective Share the practical tools that helped me navigate this difficult terrain Create community among others struggling with similar challenges Demonstrate that healing is possible even from the deepest wounds Connect these personal lessons to the universal language of music Because in many ways, forgiveness is like music—it requires practice, patience, and the willingness to work through dissonance to find harmony. It demands that we listen more than we speak. And ultimately, it creates something beautiful from what might otherwise remain painful noise. The Invitation If you've read this far, you're invited to join this journey. Whether you're struggling with your own valley of bitterness or simply interested in how personal growth can inform creative expression, there's a place for you here. I don't claim to have all the answers. Some days are still harder than others. But I've learned that sharing our stories honestly—the failures along with the triumphs—creates the possibility for connection and healing that secrecy never could. So welcome to the BigJohnShow blog. This is a space where we'll explore music, yes, but also the deeper rhythms that make life worth living: forgiveness, growth, creativity, and the courage to transform our most painful experiences into something that might help others through their day. Like flowers grown from once-trampled seeds.