We Talked About Forgiveness.
An added benefit of having Dylan home during this disaster is that, sometimes, I learn a ridiculous amount about myself.
Last night, I tried to explain to him why some people can be so bothersome, even hurtful. I explained my theories about why beautiful, innocent babies occasionally grow up to be spiteful and manipulative adults, due to poor parenting, dysfunction, tragedy and trauma.
“You want so badly for everyone to see you for the good, kind, decent person you are,” I said, hugging him, absorbing that truth. “But no matter what you do, some people just can’t see it.”
Then we talked about forgiveness.
After Dylan left, I started thinking about the people I still haven’t forgiven. One is Bonnie, who completely upended my world by “unfriending” me on Facebook after – I thought – 30 years of close friendship. The other is Mindy, who was never a friend and bullied me from 4th through 7th grade. Both nearly killed me with their heartlessness.
To myself I reiterated: “You want so badly for everyone to see you for the good, kind, decent person you are.”
I thought about that for a long time.
A lot of people don’t like me. I am definitely not mainstream. I can be too liberal and too pessimistic, and I often share unnecessary wisdom when trying to “help” people. I am learning that most people don’t want me to help. And often I’m too open about my innermost feelings with people who aren’t ready to share.
But I want so badly for everyone to see me for the good, kind, decent person I am.
Two people will never see me that way. Mindy – who bullied me relentlessly – decided she hated me without ever speaking to me. And Bonnie – my dearest friend, or so I thought – never cared about the “real” me, possibly because she’s a narcissist. But all I ever wanted was their approval.
Why would I put myself through years of agonizing over how I might change their perceptions – even though I know enough to tell Dylan that some people can’t be changed?
Partially, I think, it’s about control. I want to control the way others see me, and I only want people to see the good in me. I don’t take criticism well, and I am the first one to dish it out. (This isn’t really a positive character trait, and could easily affect people’s perception of me.)
But when someone flat out says, I don’t like you, my gut reaction is: WAIT! I’m a really good person! I’ll try harder to prove it to you!
And then I keep myself up nights, worrying about people who don’t even care that I exist.
So last night, I chunked the bully and the narcissist together for the first time. I thought: how can I forgive them – both of them – these people who live in my head, but not in my life?
An answer came immediately, something I learned long ago: acceptance is the answer to all of my problems.
Accepting what they did doesn’t mean I have to agree with it; I don’t. But accepting that they did it – that this happened to me – and that I have no control over any of it: that is something I can do.
Then, like I told Dylan, I can accept that they are just broken. They can’t see who I am, because they aren’t capable.
It’s just the way it is.
And that tiny realization has made it possible for me to sleep peacefully, without regret or anger, for the rest of my life.