Daily: What forgiveness means

Two posts from me in one day. Ah, but they’re very different.

 

Edinburgh Castle

 

Some of you know about my Scotland 2017 story, the uber exciting chance to move there and live with a man I considered a close friend, to marry and work side by side. It didn’t come off as planned, and I’ve been thoroughly open and honest about why.

A lot of it was my own damn fault. For all sorts of reasons, I didn’t give it my all. It shocked me as much as it did a lot of people looking on, who never imagined the story wouldn’t turn out as wonderful as it sounded. Interest was drummed up, and I had a blog devoted to My Highland Fling. The support I received was phenomenal. But then, once I came back home, the bulk of that fell flat. People deserted, bored. I guess it was inevitable. I was only interesting so long as I provided a dream.

But, the thing is, I’ve abjectly apologized to Chris for my bad behavior. This is not to say I’m the sole reason the dream died, but I do bear a large burden of guilt, for which I have suffered. I wrote the Scot a very long email, distressingly long, no doubt, in which I owned up to all the flaws that proved to be stumbling blocks in our relationship. It could have turned out much differently. He said that, and he’s right. I acknowledged and let him know how absolutely devastated the whole experience left me, that I knew I’d hurt him.

 

Waking over England, descending into Heathrow.

 

To me, forgiveness comes easily. Not always, okay, but usually. When a friend’s done something dire, I may steam and fume, but ultimately I come back around to forgiveness. It’s my nature. I understand people screw up. We’re fallible by nature. And when I forgive, I throw bad feelings out the window, wiping the slate clean.

Because that’s what forgiveness is. You’re within your rights demanding an apology, even sometimes atonement, but once a person you care about has apologized with absolute honesty and sincerity, you let it go. To do otherwise makes you a small person, indeed.

I would like to remain friends with the Scot, despite bad or misguided behavior on both our parts. As the bad stuff fades, I smile remembering the good. What’s done is done, and I choose to throw out the bad and keep only what made and makes me happy about my time in the UK.

 

 

Chris said, when I was there, I was to write honestly about the relationship, that he wouldn’t be bothered by anything I shared. If such holds true now, I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll read this, that he’s as curious as I’d be if he were spilling his guts. I’m not sure if that’s a not giving a shit thing or a man thing. It’s said relationships are life for women, and part of life for men. Maybe.

The thing is, I can’t keep beating myself up about my part in the failure of our relationship. I’ve done all I can, and will not prostrate myself on the altar of guilt. The decision to forgive or not is his. I cannot control what he does.

I long for closure. In an ideal world, apologies would be accepted and the bad things dropped. You don’t keep beating someone over the head, you just don’t. That’s not how friendships work. You say you’re sorry, mean it from the heart, and that’s that.

I would give anything to have his friendship back. I’d give anything to move forward, start fresh, and see where life takes us. But I can’t do this anymore, can’t keep answering spiteful communications with good grace.¬†Maybe some of us just can’t forgive and move on. Not everyone’s like me. It’s with a heavy heart I must admit this is true. But life is so, so short. You meet people like yourself, who share your interests and values, so infrequently. It would be beyond a shame if we could not mend fences.

 

Isle of Arran from the ferry

 

While there’s life, there’s hope. I’m done flagellating; now there’s only the wait.

I’ll keep thinking good thoughts. Meantime, I’m living my life. If Chris drifts back in, he drifts back in. If not, I’m so, so sorry and my life will be the poorer for it.

It’s all up to fate.

All good wishes sent my way are most appreciated. All positive energy, whether it proves fruitful or not. I can’t dismiss the value of positivity.

In any event, thank you for indulging me in all this. Thank you for listening.

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