07: A Piece on Forgiveness
Hi, friends! I hope everyone has been well. Gas prices are insane but I hope none of us are. I hope we are all still fighting the good fight. With that out of the way, this season of my life has yielded many questions— most of which surround the idea of community; both, platonic and romantic: how do we build and maintain interpersonal relationships?
A bit of Introspection —
No person is perfect; in fact, there’s quite a lot wrong with each one of us. Better yet, it isn’t even all the same stuff. Each of us is our own beautiful array of chaos; a glorious kaleidoscope of mess whom God still saw fit to wake up this morning. We all say we know this: no one is perfect. But, sometimes I feel like we don’t actually realize the implications of this.
Speaking for myself here, but, when I look around I’m finding out that I have isolated myself. I’m unable to pinpoint when it started, but I reckon that when I was younger, someone hurt me and it all started there. Instead of talking about it and attempting to reconcile, I put them out of my mind and removed myself. I stopped showing up because I resolved to never be hurt like that again; however, I’m realizing, now more than ever, that in an attempt to protect myself I have omitted my desire for connection. That mindset has followed me and permeated every relationship I have ever had. Friends who I probably should have heard out. People who probably deserved an opportunity to explain themselves. In disillusion of protecting myself, I have actually isolated myself.
In my crusade to never be hurt, I have curated a person who I believe(d) to be presentable. Unproblematic. She is eccentric, but just enough. She is funny. She is never too upset. “It’s fine” and “I’ve got it” should be tattooed across her forehead, because they are mantras she lives by. She is a shell of me— the actual me, I mean. People meet her and think they know her because she appears authentic, and in part she is. She is a conglomerate of hand-picked elements of my person. In doing this, however, it starts to feel incredibly lonely. Nobody checks on you because you appear to have it all together. People assume you’re always fine because, well, you always say you’re fine. You realize your quirkiness and humor are no longer character traits; rather, a reflective shield to keep from being found out. So, ironically, my efforts to not be hurt have actually caused me the worst kind of hurt: loneliness. Even worse? No one did it to me; I did it to myself.
I am not saying I do not have people— I’m saying they’re a trusted few. I certainly am not saying they had it easy either; trust, I have tried to push them away. They just happen to care enough about me to see through my charade. I think if I made a list, there are maybe a handful of them and I am very grateful.
Enough with the sad story— what does any of this have to do with forgiving?
Well, as I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships. I heard someone say ‘in order to have friends, you must first show yourself friendly.’ I like to think I show up for people. I consciously make people feel seen and heard. I actively hold space for the people in my presence. I do not, however, let others do the same for me. But more on that another time.
Forgiveness comes to mind when I reflect on situations I dismissed simply because I did not want to expose myself— I did not want to trust someone with even the idea that they held enough power to puncture my armor. I was fine. Everything was fine. No further words or actions were needed. It was a closed case.
But if we are all human, and we all make mistakes— logic dictates we all, then, deserve the opportunity to fix them. And the conversation that comes with that is very intimate and does require vulnerability. It is uncomfortable.
Furthermore, even when people do apologize, it takes vulnerability and a painful self-awareness to accept the apology. That kind of vulnerability is something I’m not sure I’ve mastered. I’ve been saying “it’s fine” and then never speaking to people again. Not because I’ve been angry and or becuase the actions were irrevocable. Simply because I have built armor around my heart— and the armor doesn’t only work as a shield but as a chamber. Nothing can penetrate, and nothing can come out. But forgiveness comes from the heart— so the work is disarming my heart to be able to receive apologies and reconciliation as well as giving grace and forgiveness; and, vice versa.
Sidebar—
I am reminded of Proverbs 4:23 which instructs us: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” I fear I have misunderstood this proverb. I have been trying to draw nearer to Christ so I can be more like Him. Most of the instructions He offers revolves around love and forgiveness.
For a long time, I thought this scripture was telling me to protect myself. Which, I think it might be; however, I think I’ve taken it too far. A different scripture tells me not to harden my heart. I fear I have.
At the age of 24, quickly approaching 25, I’ve determined the scipture means to be careful who you show your heart to and in what capacity you do so. Some people are not deserving to hold all you have to offer; furthermore, sometimes they simply don’t have to tools to. It’s important to discern that. In the same vein, some do deserve it, and they do hold the capacity. It doesn’t mean they won’t mess up or hurt you— they are human! It means those people are worthy of the opportunity to reconcile. That is a matter of the heart: giving and receiving forgiveness. It’s a matter of grace and mercy. Furthermore, guard what you listen to; guard who you listen to. Be conscious of the environments you find yourself in because that also influences the heart.
So, what am I trying to say?
I want to be less guarded. I want to be my authentic self— all of myself. I want to practice discernment so I can build relationships with people who can be trusted with the depth of my essence. I don’t want to grow old and realize no one actually knows who I am.
I don’t want to live in constant fear of being hurt. I want to be able to forgive and grow closer to those I love and who love me. I want to be able to release negative feelings and move forward; not just push them away and say “it’s fine”. Some things really are not fine and people deserve to know that. I deserve for them to know that. And if they care, it will be fixed. If not, it isn’t for lack of knowing.
The idea is terrifying. It is also worth it, I think. I’m not sure…
But, I guess that’s the whole point of this: staying around to see What Happens Next?
Until next time,
Cheers.