I fail so much when it comes to my faith, and I continually find myself grateful that I have a God who redeems such failings, and yet in me is a pride that I struggle to let go: the pride of not forgiving myself.
It’s resurrection Sunday. The most joyous Sunday in Christian holy days. The day we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, but not just that, we celebrate the metaphors of dying to self and resurrecting as a child of God because of the sacrifice of Jesus as Christ, Son of God, and Fully God Fully Man. Read more
If only I could disappear.
I happened to have vented near the wrong person yesterday. Nothing I thought was a big deal, but of course it was about a friend of mine and the facts were left out and things got tainted in the retelling. So word got back to her, and she was pretty upset. When I found out I called her immediately and let her yell her feelings at me for a while. She had a right to be angry. I had a moment of disapproval that I shot off to someone who had no right to know it. I told her I was sorry and she was right. I took responsibility for my actions.
I spent a good long time afterward on the phone with my boyfriend. He listened, like a Saint. Assured me I did all I could. Reminded me I was not a bad person, I just slipped up for a moment and it got out of control. My mother told me the same when I called her. Told me I wasn’t an aweful human being, even though my heart told me I was worthless. I wounded a hurting person. In turn I wounded myself.
I felt terrible…feel terrible. Of all the people to hurt in the world, I hurt the one who’s wounds run deepest. Who’s morals were shaky. Who’s mind was easily swayed by the emotions of how something is presented, and not the actual words of what is said. In turn she decided to tell me everything that’s wrong with me. How I’m “cocky” (confident) and how I’m “judgmental” (ironic how one has to be judging in order to say someone is judging them). I told her that I’d consider those views thoughtfully. Perhaps she was right? Perhaps she was just too hurt to think and evaluate clearly. All I knew was she had thought those things of me, and probably talked to people about me behind my back. All the accusations she has made to me, I knew she herself had committed. I said nothing though. What would saying something have done to help? What would it justify? It wouldn’t. I remained silent. I silently forgave her.
Part of me feels the trust is too far gone from our friendship for her criticisms to bother me too much. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever trusted her. She fears depth. She is gossipy. Her lifestyle is different than mine. She isn’t going to understand how I live. I know I don’t understand how she does. I don’t have her struggles and I don’t have her desires and emotions. I can’t know her fully. So yes, I disapprove of her lifestyle out of a combination of ignorance and having watched her choices destroy herself. If that bothers her, only she can choose if she wants me to stay in her life. In turn only I can choose to have her stay in mine. I care very much for her, but perhaps she will always choose what is toxic over what is right. In turn I have to decide what place that puts me in, and if I can live with her making those choices.
Can I love someone who is toxic nearby? Or do I choose to love her from a distance?
I still feel very badly about it. It’s unresolved and broken. Part of my faith in God leads me to believe that I am responsible to Him for how I made her feel. I’ve asked to be forgiven. I’ve asked for her heart to be healed. I’ve asked for mine to be healed, because heaven knows that I struggle to forgive myself for things. I failed, but I cannot sit and dwell on my failure. I’m trying to move forward.
Pray for me.
“I think I need to love myself and let God love me before I’m in a relationship.” She said as we began our 45 minute drive.
” I agree. I totally agree.”
Finally. After almost 2 years of friendship she was starting to get what I had started saying to her from the beginning. It wasn’t often we had breakthroughs, and much of the time I wondered if they were breakthroughs or if she was just saying what she thought I wanted her to say. She had been abused as a child. Her tendency to people please at the expense of what she truly felt was more likely. I would take it. At least I knew she had heard me out. Once at least. Read more