My Confession

Even when I was young, I thought Confession at my Catholic grade school was suspect. I get to be awful, and all I have to do is go in a little box, say I'm sorry, maybe a couple prayers, and everything is forgiven? And even if I do the same awful things again, I just need to repeat the process? That's it. Forgiveness: eternal and unconditional. 

Christ, that's not how any of that works. 

I actually pride myself on being a fairly forgiving person. Actually, really forgiving. To a fault. Sometimes I forgive where others think I shouldn't. And the truth is I'm okay with that. It is a trait that has occasionally frustrated other people in my life, especially when it means I maintain relationships others think I'd be best without. Yet of all the crappy things I've forgiven, I've never regretted giving someone a second--or third, fourth,or even eighteenth--chance. In the end, it's always been the right choice. I'm okay with forgiving.

But lately I've learned there's one person I can't forgive. Ever. 

See the past few weeks have been... rough. I've been told, in fairly brutal terms,  I'm....well...an annoying mess. As someone who has spent her whole life trying to help others, it was gut wrenching to be described as a weight on someone's chest. And at the end of the episode, I was told quite plainly the friendship was done, permanently, and that was that. The whole incident was roundly wrapped up with me being unfriended and blocked on social media. And in a world where people have hundreds and thousands of friends on Facebook, that last one really got the message across. I mean, you gotta be pretty messy when your Twitter/Facebook/Instagram feeds are too much for someone.

Y'all...it's been a week. 

But here's the thing: I'm not mad at this person. Because everyone has a right to feel what they feel. Everyone has a right to decide who gets to be in their lives. There's nothing wrong with it. So that's actually not who I can't forgive.

It's me. 

My real issue is I can't stop being angry at myself for completely failing to be the person I thought I was, for being weaker and all around worse than I imagined myself to be. I'm mad at myself for seeming messy when I'm usually meticulous. I'm angry I seemed sad when I'm usually sassy and spunky (a word someone else once used that I love).  I'm disappointed I let anxiety get the best of me when usually my humor-as-a-defense-mechanism means I can get through difficult situations and be charming and hilarious in a dark sort of way. And in all seriousness, I'm furious I ever became a burden when I've devoted my life to trying to carry other people's weight with them. I probably could've forgiven the person for what they said--if we were still speaking--but I'll never forgive myself for being someone they would want to say it to.

I know everyone is messy sometimes and that we don't owe apologies for going through hard things. And we don't owe anyone apologies for how we handle those hard things, even if we fail to do it with as much grace and aplomb as we might have liked. But as for how that translates into forgiving myself? Well, I'm still working on that. 

I don't think I'm alone. I think too often we don't extend to ourselves the same kindnesses we extend to others. We expect from ourselves what we'd never expect from others. And when who we think we are doesn't match who others see, that can be devastating.

It's not as if I'm sitting around being sad; I have my friends, my family, my dog, and more than enough 90s rap music to get me through (God bless you, Luda). I'm doing just fine. But in those quiet moments when the rush of the world dies down, a whispering voice sneaks in:"You really messed that up, and there's no fixing it now." It's not what I messed up--though that sucks; it's the fact that I messed up at all. There's no little box I can go to, no absolution someone can give me. I don't know how to atone this time. I consider myself to be good at forgiving people, but suddenly I'm stumped at how to forgive when the people is myself. The right answer probably has to do with accepting our failures and moving on, trying to do better the next time. When someone figures out what the hell that means, be sure to let me know. I have no clue. Because instead of any of that, I'm in a cycle of replaying every criticism I've ever heard throughout my life--I seriously had a stress dream about a nasty incident involving locker sharing in third grade--and then beating myself up for totally failing people--and totally failing myself. I don't know how to forgive myself for being the person I am--a person who is a burden sometimes. Who is messy and broken sometimes. Who makes people so crazy they need to cut them off.

Or block them on Twitter.

Because y'all, I think my online presence is a goddamn riot.

Making peace with who we are--especially when we are at our worst--is the work of a lifetime. And it isn't going to happen in a little box. There will be no old man (my priests were always old men) sitting on the other side of the screen offering penance. There are no quick prayers for absolution because it turns out the person who's doing the forgiving this time is worse at this than she thought.

Maybe I'll forgive her for that someday.