Apologies.

I am the worst.

Pity party aside, there’s rational evidence to back up my claim.

I’ve hurt a lot of people. I continue to hurt people. Sometimes I feel so toxic and disgusting that I’m not sure I can survive it—or if I should.

And forgiveness is not a right.

But it is a lifeline.

Today, I want to talk about the give and take of forgiveness, what apologies actually mean, and whether saying “I’m sorry” is ever enough.

There’s a reason I want a tattoo that says Wrath | Mercy.

Because there’s always a choice.

Sometimes you want the other people in your life to suffer like you have. Sometimes you want them to hurt because nobody championed for you, and you had to learn everything the hard way.

Other times, you want to show people the compassion you desperately wished someone had shown you.

I think that says something about a person—what side they tend to err toward.

I can only speak to what I’ve experienced, and I don’t necessarily believe everything deserves forgiveness. But recently, I did the ultimate #hardthing:

I forgave an old boss of mine.

For everything she did, and everything she didn’t do.

And in that process, I also had to apologize and eat my pride over everything I did, and everything I didn’t do.

Because sometimes accountability means accepting that your version of the story isn't the only version that exists.

The facts matter. But so do the feelings.

Ego and miscommunication are the zodiac killers of relationships. They rob people of closeness.

Without forgiveness, there may not be a chance for reconciliation. And without some attempt at mending, we lose another one of those fleeting threads connecting us to each other.

I never felt more human than when I was humble enough to admit where I had fucked up.

Shame is a hell of a character modifier.

And vulnerability lifted a damning weight off my shoulders that I had carried for two years.

This particular person I forgave—and apologized to—felt like one of the final bosses in a video game.

And after beating the boss, so to speak, I felt this bizarre head rush of completion.

Like, Oh.

I survived that.

And then came something I wasn't expecting:

I wanted to forgive other people, too.

Not because they necessarily deserved it.

Not because what happened didn't matter.

But because I didn't want to keep carrying all of it.

And along with forgiving other people came the uncomfortable realization that I needed to show myself some compassion, too.

I needed to apologize when an apology was owed, regardless of how humiliating it felt.

It made me think about my mom and everything I wish I could say to her.

I think I'll write an open letter in another blog post when I'm ready, because I know how draining it will be to be that open and honest.

But I want to get there someday.

I want to be able to put it out there and speak my truth, even if it ends in pain or rejection.

I think a lot of people hold onto grudges because, in a strange way, they're comfortable.

I look at my mom as an example.

I have no idea what will come after my grandma—her abuser—dies.

Will that free her?

Or will she crumble under the weight of all the truths she never got to freely express?

I look in the mirror and ask myself the same thing.

If I died tomorrow, would I die happy, with resolution in my heart?

I know I wouldn't.

So I know there's a difficult conversation to be had somewhere down the line.

And maybe that's the hardest part of forgiveness and asking for forgiveness:

You have to let go of control.

You don't get to decide how the other person feels.

You don't get to decide how they react.

You could be innocent. You could be sincere. You could be genuinely regretful.

And you could still wind up blocked, ignored, hated, or worse.

Ghosted.

Or dead, I guess.

It's not always fair.

I've had plenty of sour relationships that I never got closure from, and I've had just as many come back years later.

Sometimes the story is:

“It wasn't you. It was me. I'm sorry.”

Sometimes I don't even get an apology.

And sometimes my worst nightmare comes true: I was the one who caused irreparable damage to the relationship.

Usually, that realization comes after months of why me? and denial and desperately trying to prove that I wasn't the problem.

It's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when feelings are involved.

And here's the weirdest, most truthful thing I've learned:

Forgiving someone doesn't automatically make the negative feelings disappear.

Neither does receiving an apology.

I can forgive someone and still feel guilty.

I can forgive someone and still feel anxious.

I can forgive someone and still feel unsure.

I can forgive someone and still be guarded.

And that's okay.

I hope that, as time goes on, positive interactions will slowly diminish the weight of the negative ones.

Sort of like in The Sims, when you can see the little pluses and minuses floating above your Sims' heads during a conversation.

Maybe relationships work a little like that.

You don't erase every negative interaction just because something positive happens.

You just keep adding to the meter.

But forgiveness isn't a magical reset button.

It's not “forgive and forget.”

It's not pretending something didn't happen.

It's not automatically trusting someone again.

And it's certainly not a guarantee of reconciliation.

Sometimes forgiveness is simply deciding that you don't want to spend the rest of your life carrying the weight of what happened.

Sometimes an apology is simply an acknowledgment that you understand the damage you caused.

And sometimes the other person still doesn't want you back.

You have to be willing to accept that.

Maybe that's what makes forgiveness so fucking difficult.

You can control whether you apologize.

You can control whether you forgive.

You can control whether you try to make amends.

But you cannot control what happens afterward.

And eventually, I think we all have to ask ourselves:

What am I carrying that I'm ready to put down?

Homework

Going forward, ask yourself:

Who is one person you want to learn to forgive, and why?

What is one thing you want to work on forgiving yourself for?

Who is one person you owe an apology to, and why?

And perhaps most importantly:

Are you willing to apologize without demanding forgiveness in return?