I forgive you for not being the person I hoped you would be

I did a 21 day wellness journey earlier this year that actually took me about four months, because I could not be bothered to maintain consistency.

The most meaningful exercise for me was a forgiveness meditation. I was instructed to imagine a person that I needed to forgive, then (internally—though I suppose you could also do it externally) say to them, “I forgive you and I ask you to forgive me.” I found the people that I most needed to forgive were guys I had gone out with or been interested in dating. At its root, I had to forgive them for not being the person I hoped they would be. For sure there were other offenses—ghosting, misleading, etc. But I was most hurt that this person fell short of the person I hoped they we would be. 

And I had to ask to be forgiven too, because I also wasn’t the person he hoped I would be. It would be ignorant and hypocritical if I failed to acknowledge that this might also have caused them pain. 

In the early stages of dating, I believe hope is the driving source of momentum; otherwise, wouldn’t you just spend time with people you already know and feel comfortable with? Getting to know someone requires energy and investment. Maybe my experience is different than others, but I only convince myself to do it, because I hope that we can form a deeper, more meaningful relationship with each other. A key factor of this hope is a belief that this person could be someone with whom I can create that relationship. 

I also know it’s a “could be.” I do. I promise! Yet I feel so hurt when the could turns to can’t. These men aren’t necessarily doing anything wrong. I think we often associate forgiveness with someone doing something wrong, but it’s possible that someone can hurt me in their rightness. And forgiveness is the best way to heal. 

Through this process, I am forced to accept reality. Otherwise, I can continue to send my mind along journeys that allow endings to lead to new beginnings; scenarios that are just as improbable as they are impalpable. 

Every time something ends, my initial feeling is disappointment in myself. I get so mad at myself for believing that this was something that could work out. Why couldn’t I figure this out earlier and save us both the trouble? I feel so frustrated with my own hope, so stupid for believing it could work. 

In the spirit of being “curious about your feelings,” I am fascinated by mine own ability to hope. My mind is constantly trying to build scenarios in which things work out. Then it convinces me to take action to pursue these dreams. I get beat up and broken down, but I can’t give up my hope. It’s tied too closely to who I am as a person. 

I’m trying to shift my feelings of disappointment to those of a more congratulatory nature. “You acted on your hope again! You took brave steps to pursue your hope. Yes, it proved to be wrong, but you never would have known if you didn’t test it out.” 

This shift may be particularly challenging, because our culture has tendency to be so results-focused. If someone has a really crappy and ineffective process, but they succeed, we celebrate it! We say, “See, you actually did know what you were doing! And it doesn’t matter that some of those things were off for a while, maybe even really messed up, because it all worked out!” If someone has an amazing process, but they are not achieving results, we most likely tell them to re-evaluate their process. We definitely don’t celebrate what they’re doing, because, I mean, we don’t know if it’s going to work! How could we even know if their process is good if we haven’t seen some sort of outward progress? Our evaluation of process is SO tied to results, that in most fields, we lack a mechanism for even measuring the process until we have seen the result. 

I have had several instances in my life in which I had to choose to focus on the process that I believed to be effective. I dealt with plenty of comments that disapproved of what I was doing, because they could see it wasn’t working yet. They lacked my vision. When it comes to where I’m going to live, what I’m going to do for work, or even how I’m going to decide on a job, I’m a pretty strong defender of my process. I can hear those critical voices and ignore them, knowing that they will eventually celebrate when my process does work (and they see the result). 

In dating, I’m the critical voice. That’s the sector of my life in which I’m still learning to trust my own process. So many things have ended because I was honest. Zooming out, I see, “Ah, honesty is a good quality in a relationship—a key component of healthy communication. That’s going to serve you well.” But when I’m zoomed in, all I can think is, “IT IS NOT SERVING ME WELL.”

Can I go on a tangent on all caps? When I’m really frustrated or mad, I Google things in all caps. Stuff like, HOW DO YOU FIX THE PLUG THING IN YOUR SINK WHEN IT IS BROKEN FROM THE TOP AND STUCK DOWN AND NOT EVEN YOUR NAILS CAN PULL IT UP? or WHERE IS THE B TRAIN AND WHY ISN'T IT WHERE IT SAID IT WOULD BE? It’s oddly healing to yell at Google. My blog settings automatically puts the titles of each post in all caps, and it entertains me that this title will be in all caps. 

AS I was saying, if I look at my process, I can trust it. I can trust that being honest, putting yourself out there, and trying to develop yourself as person, as well as develop your skills in a relationship, are all good things. I had to catch myself there! I almost added “that will lead to a healthy relationship.” I mean, I believe that they will, I do. But the point is to focus on the process. Focus on what you can control. Focus on who you are becoming. 

May you trust the process in your journey, even more than you trust the destination. 

xoxo

R