Last night, I accompanied Matt to the game shop in Pittsburgh's Oakland neighborhood to watch him play Magic: The Gathering. He hadn't been to Fridat Night Magic in years and I, not really having much else going on, nor wanting to spend the night alone, went along.
It wasn't like I stood there the entire time. We're longtime friends with the shop's owner and know another guy who works there. After chatting a while and watching Matt play, I took a seat in the corner just to do some reading. My chosen topic: Forgiveness.
I have an issue. It's one I've battled for years. I jokingly call it the Sophia Petrillo problem, named after The Golden Girls character. Sometime during the run of the series, the grizzled old woman spouts a line to the effect of "I may forget, but I never forgive!"
While I may jokingly call it the Sophia problem, it's an all too real one. I hold onto things, internalize them, and let them make me miserable for far too long. It's far from a new problem and one that I wish had a better excuse for existing. If I had to trace the roots of this choking weed, I believe that I'd find the origins in my being an only child and, at least in part, on my mother doing the same thing.
I never had siblings with whom I had to learn the art of negotiation. On the flip-side, I never had siblings to serve as a buffer between my mother's negativity and my own life.
The unflattering joke that people turn into their mothers is less a joke to me than a point of blood-chilling worry. Becoming my mother is one of my worst nightmares. The woman she's let herself become is embittered by every wrong she's ever actually felt and even a few that she's created in her mind. And, at seventy years old, she's managed to amass quite a catalogue.
Strangely, I forced myself to learn a hard lesson in high school: You can't save everyone, so you might as well save yourself.
How is it then that I find it so easy to leave myself foundering, capsizing beneath the weight of perceived wrongs, of real hurts, and unable to forgive, forget, and move on?
I just found myself grumbling quietly under my breath about a former co-worker whose biggest challenge was showing up for work. When I became the interim manager in November, I called this woman and said that I was going to need some hours from her for the holiday season ahead. You see, my former boss disliked this woman and never scheduled her. Yet, she was able to keep her discount and benefit from it without actually doing any work.
She capitulated when I called and said she'd be able to work on Satuday nights. Fine. That was something. Due to Christmas falling on a Sunday and the store being closed on Christmas Eve, the last time she worked was on the 17th of December. I scheduled her in January, but she didn't come. Twice. I was told after the second occasion that she told one of the keyholders that she was "only holiday help" and wouldn't be coming in.
It's been two weeks since I've been affiliated with my former employer and over a month and a half since last seeing this employee. Why on earth, on a Saturday night, while I'm baking a cake for a Super Bowl party tomorrow night am I even letting this woman enter my mind. And beyond that, why am I complaining to myself about her work ethic? She's not my problem anymore.
That's the sort of silly thing I'm dealing with here. It's pointless, has no impact on me personally or professionally, but the fact that it's a Satuday night that she should be at work and isn't proved enough to throw me down the rabbit hole.
Forgiveness isn't even something that should be associated with this woman. It should be letting go and forgetting. She didn't wrong me in any way. She doesn't need to be absolved. I just need to let her go from my mind and heart.
When I drove to Oakmont this morning to get doughnuts, I found myself in the middle of a scrum of people. I pulled number 280 from the reel of tags. The staff was helping someone in the mid-260s. Instead of getting frustrated or huffing and puffing about stupid people (though there was one woman...), I reflected on what I had read and looked for beauty in the moment.
The workmanship of the baked goods, the fabulous designs executed in buttercream, and the sheer volume of goodness they produce were thoughts I paused on. I thought a moment about thankfulness for the abundance and silly ability to enjoy these sweets while so many have less than they need. But, overall, I paused and found gladness.
Driving home, I looked forward to fresh, hot coffee with Matt and a lazy morning with WQED playing classical music in the background. In the afternoon, I worked on a job application and we went to the gym.
I found joy because I looked. I stopped and noticed the beauty of the bakers' art. I was thankful for a man I've loved now for nearly ten years, our life together, and a slow Saturday morning getting to do as much or as little as we wanted.
It's sometimes a matter of stopping ourselves. It's hitting the pause button on negativity. It's being glad to be alive and in the world.
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