The one about forgiveness

So, we're doing this again? Okay. You've been warned, I'm feeling extra snarky today.

So, let's do a difficult subject: forgiveness.

Wherever you look, the idea of forgiveness is part of that light propaganda that keeps society running smoothly and sorta duel-free. You have been wronged? Well, you also have wronged others, so don't judge so you're not judged and forgive 70 times 7 or whatever number of times you want to be forgiven.

That's perfectly fine, and I'm all on board with forgiveness, except that I think we should dissect exactly what that means, what that entails, and what the limits are because, if not, we're drawing targets on our butts so our foes know where to aim the hits and, well, it's not Friday yet, keep it in your pants.

In my mind, two versions of forgiveness coexist. One is: "After we have spoken about said behaviour, both apologized and forgiven each other, we're ready to move on with our lives and go back to the way things were before."

The other?

"I forgive you. I understand what happened, but this means any relationship we had is now over. In summary, I forgive you, but I won't forget your name."

I think you have similar concepts for forgiveness but, this is the absolutely crazy part: sometimes, our willingness to forgive is not fully under our control.

And we have touched on this before. The piece about the awakening and the piece about foes come very close, but I wanted to spend some time on forgiveness because, well, one of the greatest questions of life, and one that directly affects your quality of life, is:

What is unforgivable to me, and what will my reaction be when such a thing happens?

And this question is important because our responses are absolutely variable and depend on context. A person you don't like is chewing loudly? Now they have made the list and you will oppose them in any way possible, big or small.

Your friend that you kinda liked gave your car a bump that will never go away? Heh, that happens. Now you will remember her fondly every time you see that bump in your fender.

Right?

Unless... well, things got serious. You got hurt. Things ended badly and then, years after it was relevant for the last time, you feel a retroactive need to not forgive the bump.

And this is why people associate forgiveness with maturity and, at the same time, why forgiveness can become a trap.

Think about it: what does forgiveness cost the person forgiven? If the answer is "nothing," then this is not forgiveness; this is extending the other person a blank check to do it again, and again, and again.

And I'm not advocating for revenge, financial exploitation, or the establishment of master-submissive dynamics until "we're even," though that sounds kinda hot.

The problem is, there are things no amount of spanking will ever make all right. Believe me: I've tried. Some things just destroy the foundations and leave a hole you can't fill.

Think about it: your friend drew some obscene tribal representations of reproductive organs on your face when you were passed out drunk, but also laid you on your side and sat with you all night so you didn't die? That's nothing.

That same friend, a few days later, just went to your home. You weren't there, and while he waited, he opened that box, you know which one, the beautiful, shiny wooden one, and took one of the amazing chocolate cigarettes you brought back from Rome. The same ones you have shared a few times before. Nothing, right?

Well... that's the thing. If you had shared it with them, it would have been fine, but the feeling of entitlement? That's actually a breach of trust. And it's the kind of small, petty thing that destroys a relationship.

Why?

Because respect can be enforced. Obviously, "Please don't do that" is what separates civilized humans from angry apes throwing... things at you. But there's a second level to it: there are things that, when there's trust between you, you shouldn't need to say.

Took my car for a joyride because I was busy?

I am getting very angry.

Took advantage of me taking a couple of days off to invite strangers into my office and pretend all my work was yours?

I am calling the police. Like, for real. Fuck you.

One of the terms of the forgiveness equation is undoubtedly: "How stupid do I feel about this?" And that can make or break the whole function.

Your friend who has a substance abuse problem picked all the buds off your marijuana plant, the one you don't smoke and only take care of with a lot of love? Well, you shouldn't have left her alone with it, you idiot.

Your best friend of 20 years just walked into the room your niece is sleeping in to "check on her" just because you do that from time to time, because your niece is your baby?

She's gone. Friendship over.

Another part of the equation is:

"You should know better!"

It's a very toxic paradox divorce attorneys make bank off:

"Intimacy gives people more opportunities to hurt you, but it also removes most of their excuses for doing so."

It's like when a person known for telling the truth tells you a lie versus that friend who needs to keep a notebook to keep track. Which lie makes you angrier?

That answer says a lot more about you than anybody else.

Why? Because that's the answer to a question you have asked yourself when you have fallen into a cycle of repetitive offenses or, worse, abuse:

"You promised you wouldn't cheat!"

"You said you would never take my phone again!"

"You swore you would never lose control and yell again!"

"You promised that this was the last time you took my money!"

"You said he was only a friend!"

"You said it was the last time."

And here, we've arrived at the most painful part of forgiveness, the place where extreme abuse alley starts and where your self-esteem and dignity fall by the wayside:

"Lowered-expectations-based forgiveness."

Let me explain.

Let's choose an extreme example.

The first time someone does something violent against you should be the last time they do something violent against you. And I'm using "violence" broadly here.

Why?

Because if you forgive violence once, it doesn't become an example of how forgiving and nice you are. It becomes an opening, and a small voice will establish itself in your mind:

"I know how they are. I should be careful, and I forgive them."

And at an even deeper level, you find:

"Maybe I deserve it. I knew how they were!"

And that's how abuse perpetuates itself. Through dependence, coercion, violence, and yes... forgiveness.

Forgiveness that is not a virtue of the spirit but sandpaper eating away at your soul, turning you into a victim.

And then you have an inner monologue that tells you:

"I should have managed their capacity to hurt me better."

So, should we all be declaring Corsican vendettas on each other all the time so we don't have to bear the offenses others inflict on us constantly? That would be stupid and so uncivilized. Instead, I have found a small piece of wisdom that you'll love:

"Forgive actions, not patterns."

How's that saying? Fool me once... Yeah, that one.

Do it like that. The first time something forgivable happens, the person may get a pass. Second time? Begrudgingly, have a conversation. After the third time, you should stop right there because now it's a pattern.

It's not even about the number of times something happens; it's about the meaning such things have—and acquire.

If someone knows that something hurts you, makes you uncomfortable, unsafe, or sad, and still does it? What does it say about this person? And what happens to you when you keep accepting it?

So, yeah, this got sad and dark quite fast, so: cut the toxic people out of your lives.

True love doesn't make a pattern of hurting you. And it doesn't instrumentalize your pain.

And true friends apologize and change their behaviour.

Peace.