Head back against the wall. Close eyes.
What to write about tonight? Shakira/JLo? Done. Parenting teens? Meh. That I can save for any night. How we’re all actually manipulative in conversations? Oh, gooder. Nope, too tired to expunge that sermon. I could write about the 65k trek. Or advocating for your kids to their teachers, especially in Ontario during this strike.
Eyes closed. What comes first to mind?
How I’m not going to call you. Not you. You. You know who you are. I’m not going to call.
Not this time.
It’s not vendetta. Or anger. I just don’t care anymore to try. I’m too tired to try.
For a while, I beat myself up over whether I was supposed to want to try. Or if I was expected to try. Or if I was even supposed to try, and be validated when trying didn’t work anyway. And then I gave my head a shake and realized it was all for naught – this spinning hamster wheel of what if’s and shoulda’s and eventually – fuck it’s.
No for real. It’s time to recognize that caving, or bowing down, or reaching out, or extending the proverbial olive branch doesn’t always equate to being the bigger person.
Sometimes being the bigger person means being the first to recognize when something is so toxic, that both parties are better off letting the dumpster fire burn to ash rather than trying to extinguish it & salvage what might be left.
So listen, sometimes in relationships, and friendships, and the ships you shipped off to another life entirely – you don’t always have to make up. You don’t always have to make amends. You don’t always have to forget when you forgive. Because forgiving is for you, anyway. Not for them. Forgive so you can move forward knowing that you were the bigger person – by being the first know that the problem was too big to solve, the mess was too cluttered to clean, and the web was too tangled to weave.
Then, you can be satisfied that you didn’t forget what was most important – you, and your willingness to leave it behind.
Close your eyes. What did you see first tonight?
— c ☆