I’d waited for this apology for a long time, and I’d eventually gotten to a point where I realised that there is going to come a time in your life where you’re going to have to make peace with the fact that sometimes you don’t get the apology you think you need, to help you move on.
I found myself going through an array of emotions but none as powerful as the transformation of anger into disappointment; I thought it works the other way around. It wasn’t the apology; it was the fact that it had come from him. It was the fact that I had put to rest the hope that it would ever come, knowing him, and now I was under-prepared. I was disappointed that he went against the fuel that kept me so far away from him. Suddenly he was a better person and I would have to meet him halfway because he apologised, right?
“…getting into specifics would be futile.”
“I got no issues with you…”
I started retreating from that middle ground he appeared to be on. I started imagining my sassy response: “I hope you feel better, and I hope your conscience is now clear. I hope you’re satisfied with yourself now that you’ve decided to “man-up” and apologise.”
I lost so much respect for him after his public display of bullshit, I was beyond devastated that he turned out to be the exact person I told him I hoped he wasn’t, but at the same time I’m so thankful that he showed me his true colours when he did. I certainly hope, for his sake, that this is truly who he is. I hope that I was the one who was lied to. I would hate to imagine that it’s all a one-man show for an obsessed audience egging him on. I can’t imagine someone living a lie.
I allowed him the dignity of finishing his email. I also read through the entire thing hoping the premise would change, that the words would become rosy and that somehow the privacy of his email would translate to a correction of the PR nightmare he caused but it didn’t. I wished that the word “I” would fade out of his email and he would address ME: MY emotions and MY trust that was betrayed but he didn’t.
“You don’t have to reply to this if…”
My frustration amassed into a giggle. So it’s true, I told myself, he wasn’t apologising after all. He was simply fluffing the pillow of his consciousness so he could sleep a little better tonight. “It’s not a fucking woman’s job to be consumed and invaded and spat out so that some fucking man can evolve.” (The L-Word)
I can’t accept this apology. I don’t have to. Not for inner peace, not to become a better person, not for closure, not for any end at all. In fact, NOT accepting it is what I realised is going to help me move on. I don’t hate him. In fact more than anything, I thank him for it, because sometimes growth comes with the most painful experiences.
Sometimes, “I’m sorry” just isn’t good enough, sometimes the pain is too deep to forgive, often that which taints us the most is the most difficult to forget and that which frustrates us is excruciatingly painful to let go of.
But the relief that comes after pain… Oh man, he will never know how good I feel right now, to be totally over it all.
Co-Written with @SadieWiggles
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