The Apology

Some things in life shouldn't be remarkable. They should be a matter of course. Nothing to blog about, no reason to write home. But when you live a life that's a bit unconventional (as mine technically is) or if you've been deprived in significant ways (alas, a claim I can also make), little things otherwise unremarkable can sometimes become experiences completely out of proportion to what might be considered "normal."

Such has been the case for me with regards to an apology I received from a Very Dear Friend a few weeks ago. This VDF said something a bit upsetting to me -- something that was both personally disappointing and made me wonder about VDF's understanding of me as a full-fledged human. I immediately took her to task over it, and we had a vigorous debate about what she intended.

I spoke my peace and thought we were done with it. As with previous disagreements or instances when I have been injured in some way by a friend or family member, I intended to lick my wounds and retire the matter, probably after some kind of apology on my part for being too sensitive or something.

In my life, I've generally played the role of peacemaker. What this has meant, time and again, is offering an apology when none is warranted -- or, more specifically, when one is really owed to ME but has not been forthcoming and the resulting tension had become unbearable or was otherwise causing problems.

Case in point: My sister beat the living crap out of me one Christmas Eve when I was in college. I eventually lost patience with being punched repeatedly in my head and face and fought back, only to be caught doing so by my mother. Who promptly decided your dear UCM was "trying to ruin Christmas." (There was never any need to "try to ruin Christmas" in my family, by the way. That always managed to happen rather ... organically.)

I was outraged. A stalemate ensued between my sister and I which lasted until the following Thanksgiving. I knew there would be further incitement if one of us didn't do something, so I moved first -- even though I was physically sickened in doing so.

I rang her up, heard 11 months of simmering hostility in her voice and said, Look, we're going to have to see each other for Thanksgiving. Why don't we do something that really fucks with everyone else instead of fucking with each other?

That got her interest. "Like what?" she asked.

Let's pretend we're really happy to see each other. Let's act like we like each other. Like we're the best and closest sisters one can imagine. Let's pretend we love each other and have been separated for a long time.

"I like that idea," she said. "But first, don't you think you should apologize?"

*sigh*

Somehow, I did. And we had a peaceful holiday. And the rest of the family was REALLY confused by our behavior.

My life is filled with example after example of this nature -- no matter the size or scope of the problem. With my siblings, with my parents, even with friends. Somewhere along the line, I internalized what the Notorious M.O.M. was constantly telling me about myself: I was a trouble-maker, a bad seed and that it was all caused by my dad taking her to see "Rosemary's Baby" when she was pregnant with me. Thus, I had a lot to apologize for, whether I had done anything wrong or not.

But I've grown very weary of this role. It's demoralizing and dehumanizing, and there's no reason I should be doing that to myself. So while it's not an easy habit to break, I've been working on it.

This explains, in part, why the Notorious M.O.M. hasn't spoken to me since March. She was nasty to me, and I said: Enough! in the most polite-yet-direct way you can imagine. She got pissed and hung up the phone on me, and I suspect she is waiting for me to call and apologize.

Not gonna happen.

So that's a long bit of backstory to bring us to the situation with the VDF who made the errant comment that hurt my feelings. Following our argument, I understood where VDF was coming from, and I was OK with it. I fired off an e-mail to her in an attempt to explain my perspective in a more coherent fashion, but I was otherwise prepared to drop the matter. I didn't want it creating unnecessary friction in our friendship.

Then a strange thing happened. The next day, this VDF stood in front of me, looked me in the eyes and in the most heart-felt manner, expressed her frustration with the whole matter and ... apologized to me.

I have been racking my brain for a similar experience, and I can't find one. Best I can figure, this is the first time such a thing has happened. In a life in which my early experiences were filled with violence and in which profound betrayal has been unfortunately common, it took until I was 37 for someone to apologize TO ME.

(Note: Of course, I'm talking about an apology related to something important or meaningful. People who've spilt coffee on me, for example, have apologized. But even the guy who broke my fibula and tibia didn't bother to say he was sorry. And as for the relationship with XGF: I don't think she ever did anything that really warranted an apology, which is probably one reason the relationship didn't last.)

Anyway, for the past month, the power of this experience has been slowly sinking in, and I've been surprised to feel its effect on me.

When giving our presentation on "Social Invalidation of Same-Sex Relationships," one of the tips The Debutante suggested for therapists was to "create an alternative experience." This means, for example, that if you've got a gay client who's been experiencing discrimination in some way (and is thus expecting it from the therapist, as well), the therapist can get more traction by creating an affirming experience, one that is so contrary to the client's expectation that it's almost shocking.

Without realizing it, this is what VDF created for me: a completely novel experience. In receiving this apology, I had the most peculiar internal experience, something which is defying any accurate or meaningful description. Maybe I could say my heart opened up. Or maybe I could say that some wound which had long been open suddenly closed. Perhaps I could say both of those things. It would still be an insufficient description.

Either way, the sensation that has been sinking in since then is one of healing.

It's interesting. This sense of healing has *nothing* to do with VDF in most respects. The argument we had was a blip in a mutually enjoyable friendship that has been a source of great support as I've gone through my divorce and its attending emotional clusterfuck (as well as the recent suicide of a long-time friend).

It was the act itself that was so powerful. For the first time, I witnessed a display of someone caring whether *I* was hurt. Until that happened, I had no clue just how weary my spirit had become, how accustomed I was to having emotional and physical pain rendered meaningless by the inability or unwillingness of those who've harmed me to own their part. Nor did I realize just how much I was harming myself in offering unwarranted apologies to dismantle the tension in the relationships with these people.

I have been wondering in recent years about the nature of forgiveness. Does it really exist? And if so, where does it come from? What does it feel like? What does it mean?

It's not that I've been walking around holding grudges for my entire life. There's a huge difference, I think, between holding a grudge and not being able to forgive. But I suspect one of the reasons I've been unable to conceptualize forgiveness is because, until this apology, I lacked the experience of someone caring enough to ask for it. I'm still not sure what forgiveness is all about, but at least I now have a different context in which to consider it.

No matter what conclusion I reach, I can say for certain that there's great potential and real power in the "alternative experience." Trust me, I've felt it. And it's still just sinking in.