My heart hurts. It is broken. This is a road I have been down before, but this time it hurts so much more than before.
I try to always see the best in people. There is something good about everyone, some redeeming quality that keeps them from being a completely vile human being no matter how much a turd they behave like. The problem with always looking for the best in people is that sometimes it blinds me to what a person actually is.
Take Jack-the-ripper for example. We all know he was a sadistic murderer who preyed on women. Yes, he was a completely terrible human being, but maybe he just had “mommy” issues and needed a hug. He may have been a very talented painter, or accomplished athlete. We do know that he was obviously very good at the game of hide-and-seek, seeing as how he managed to not only elude capture, but also managed to keep from ever giving away his identity.
See? There is a positive side to everyone. Given, Jack-the-ripper is a bit of a gross example, but no matter how grim and dark a situation seems to be, no matter how awful a person appears, there is something inside everyone that is good. There are no bad people, just people who make bad mistakes.
Back to the downside of always looking for the good in a person . . . again, it can blind me to what a person is doing right in front of me.
I am in a situation now where I am struggling to reconcile a person I thought I knew to the person he actually is. He’s not a bad man. He just made some very bad decisions. The effects of those decisions have been coming to light over the last two weeks. Last week seemed to be just one thing after another until I was left wondering who the man was that I thought I knew. Maybe I’m not making any sense. I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t figure out if the man I’ve known for 3 1/2 years truly is a good man who has just made some bad decisions, or if he was a turd of a human being who wore a “good” mask to cover up what he was doing. Whatever the case may be, the truth is out, and my heart is broken.
I want to be able to talk to him. I want him to tell me what he did, rather than hearing the anger-fueled accusations of others. I want to be able to stand in front of him and look at him, in the eye, and see who he is inside.
I drove past his house last Friday while on my way to another destination, and he was sitting in his driveway. I almost stopped, but with a pounding heart I continued on. Later I talked to a friend and asked him what I should do. The Bible says that when someone slaps one cheek we should turn the other to them. We must forgive others, lest God not forgive us for our sins. I have forgiven him, but I don’t understand him. I don’t understand how a person could be so generous, so kind, seem to care so much, go behind the backs of everyone around him and lie the way he did. I don’t understand how I couldn’t see it when I have been in this same situation before.
Some may call it “oblivious.” Some may say “naive.” Others may say “too trusting.” There is good inside everyone. I still believe that. Maybe it’s not my place to understand why he did what he did. Maybe it’s not my place to be angry at him. My only role in this is to forgive him. I have forgiven the man who did what he did. What I am having a hard time with is forgiving the man that he made himself appear to be.
I looked up to him. I respected him. And now I don’t know who that man was that I respected. Did he ever exist? Has his role in my life for the past 3 1/2 years been entirely a lie? Was there ever a moment in that time when he stopped long enough to regret what he was doing, and how it would affect those around him?
The thing about lies and secrets . . . they always come to light. Always.
So now his stuff has been boxed up, but still sits right where everyone can see it. I think that is worse than leaving it where it was. In boxes it is all a reminder of what he did, and every time I look at his belongings a little more salt gets poured into the wound.
I just want all of this to be done. I want all of his stuff to be gone. I want things to return to some semblance of the routine we knew before everything came to light. I want the wound to heal, and it will . . . in time.
Until then I must try to merge the man I knew with the man that he turned out to actually be, and it’s difficult, and so painful.
Until next time . . .