GROWN UPS BUSINESS

The most grown-up thing that I’m trying to do now or that I’ve been doing for a while is taking responsibility and acknowledging the role that I play in my own brokenness. While it sounds like something little, it’s a big deal because it means that I’m able to evaluate and acknowledge the things that are my fault, and I’m able to reanalyze and say, “This is something I could’ve done differently.”

It’s tough because I have to be honest with myself and sometimes unnecessarily hard on myself. Over the years, I have an idea of principles and policies that work for me, and I’ve extended grace to people by not necessarily sticking by them because I’d believe that it would be hard for people to adjust to certain standards that I’ve laid out. While sometimes it’s been helpful because people later on go on to understand my view and adjust as necessary, sometimes putting down the standards has been hurtful because it’s created room for people to just come into my life and do whatever and get away with whatever.

So coming to the realization that whether or not I want to extend grace to people, I also have to learn to protect myself. And when all things go wrong, I have to be willing to sit and say, “What could I have done differently?”

This tough process does not void me of the pain that has happened during whatever interaction with other parties. I think it even makes it harder to deal with it because sitting and reprocessing, I definitely would have a few, “This is what I should’ve done better,” and sometimes I hate it. I hate it because why didn’t I just do it better? Why didn’t I just do it my own way? Why did I allow this person or that situation derail me from what would have been? It hurts.

But then again, I have to own it. I have to own the role that I play in my own suffering, as uncomfortable as it might be. This also helps me to forgive people, even though I overplay the forgiveness. I say things like, “Maybe if I had done this, they wouldn’t have done that,” but that’s just me owning up to things. But I know that one thing — I never want to be collateral damage for people’s ignorance.

Because it hurts that you’ve treated me this certain way because you didn’t know better. Now you would go on to know better, but it doesn’t void me of the pain that you’ve caused me in your ignorance. That hurts.

So while I acknowledge my role, I also extend grace to the other party and I reflect. And even as I break apart, I tell myself, “You need to learn to move on to better. You need to do better, and you need to understand that this person didn’t know better.” And that’s a lot of excuses to make for myself and the other person. But if that’s what’s breaking me free from setback, I would be willing to do it because honestly, it’s more of me now than this person.

You broke me, yes. Maybe I allowed it to an extent, and that’s fine. And you might not even know it, but I’ve sat through it, and I know it. And sitting through it means grieving, it means missing you, it means regretting the loss and season and opportunities lost, it means trying to understand, it means putting one or two together, it means allowing that it might not make sense, it means a lot of figuring out, it means a lot of desire for clarity, it means the need to want to ask you why.

But somehow, I never get the chance to fulfill all of these things that it means — especially having to ask you why. So even as I acknowledge the role that I play in my suffering, I’m still left with residue of what you’ve caused me or whatever pain the situation has brought me.

And I cannot be mad at you more than a certain period of time. I cannot be offended at the situation more than a certain period of time because over the years, I’ve carried too much to continue to carry more. So I have to say to myself, “It broke me. This person hurt me. This part took a part of me.”

But I have to move past it — not so much for them, but for the person that I’m looking to become. And so I have to learn to forgive without an explanation. I have to create excuses in my head that make sense for the situation. Worse of it means that I’m creating the idea and notion of closure, and it’s all based on the moments that we’ve spent together, also words that you said to me or what the situation brought me.

So I’m finding closure not necessarily in clarity, but the notion that has been built based on interaction during that space that we shared. And that’s difficult because it means that I’m closing up based on ideas that I have in my head, not necessarily the reality that is existing.

And I have to learn to live with that for the rest of my life. I have to be okay with not having an answer that’s reasonable enough, but I have to create a belief that makes it easier for me to move past it. And I have to extend an excuse that makes me conducive to not judge you, to not hate the moment, to not be disgusted by the period, to hope again, to try new things.

That’s like one of the hardest things to do. But I have to move on. I have to move past the situation. I have to move past the person. I have to move past the period. I have to have an explanation that makes my movement valid, that makes my healing valid, that strips me off bitterness. I have to.

So yes, it hurts that it happened, that in the season of my life I wasn’t able to take up on certain opportunities — maybe because I wasn’t prepared. It hurts that myself and this person had a little bit of issue that just ripped apart the moment that we shared. But I cannot hate you for it. I cannot hate that season. I have to move on.

It’s compulsory that I move. So I have to tell myself a story that is worth my healing, and I have to be OK with never knowing the truth. I have to be fine with never knowing your side of the story. I have to be OK with not understanding if it’s that I wasn’t good enough for the role or the recruiting team just found somebody better. I have to find a reason that validates how much I’ve lost financially.

I could say I didn’t read well on this opportunity. I could say I trusted the wrong person. But I cannot hate that season. I cannot hate that season. I can no longer spend time hating seasons and hating people and being bitter and in resentment because it causes me delay.

So I’m saying that I need to move on. It’s grown folks business, and I need to move on enough that when I see you, I don’t hate you. That when the situation presents itself, I don’t hate it. I cannot have a resentment. So I create an explanation valid enough to take me through the moment but important enough to last me a lifetime.

So even if I never come across you again, even if you never explain it to me again, even if the situation doesn’t repeat itself, even if the opportunity doesn’t come again — or even if it did, or even if you did — I would still be OK. And I would not hate you for it.

But this would mean that I would have to fault myself greatly. I would have to discipline myself. I would have to forgive you and offer for a better future for you. And interestingly, I have to pray for you. And I think that’s the craziest thing that I’m learning — because how could I be ripped apart by a situation? How could I have been ripped apart by a person? How can I be this broken? Can I be this torn?

How could I have given everything, invested all that I know, but it got ruined and it wasn’t my fault? It was a codependent situation, and I’m not having clarity on the role that you played. But I know on my end I was a sit-tight. I was OK. I was fine. I had it together. And so the ruin had to come from you.

There was something you left out. There was something you were not honest about. There was something about the situation that I didn’t have a hold on. It’s not on me. It’s on us. But the consequences would not have been this grave if you played your role. So I have to forgive you for not playing your role. And I don’t have the reason why you did not play your role, but I have to create a reason — not out of what you’ve told me, but out of the things that I’ve put together. That’s hard.

And now I have to pray for you. I have to rededicate a part of my life to consider you. It’s easy to bear burden for people who have never broken me. It’s easy to bear burden for people who have a need — people who journey with me. But I’m very burdened for you, for this opportunity? 

You’ve cost me a burden. I’m making you my need by putting you in prayer. I’m sending you another level of grace. It means that I’m broken, but I’m still considering you. My heart is hurting, but I remember I have to void myself of sentiment. I have to cover you.

I hate it that I had to lose the opportunity, but I cannot be mad at the opportunity. I have to be thankful that it passed me. That’s crazy because it’s bad enough that I can really analyze the situation. It’s bad enough that I extended grace. It’s bad enough that I created a notion to help me heal — to move past you.

Do I have to forgive you? Do I have to not remember the situation the way that it happened? Now I have to cover you. How do you cover something that broke you and still wish the best out of it?

It’s grown folks business. I have to pray to let it go, to pray such that mercy is shown for what’s next and the parties involved. So I can also evolve. That’s a tough one. I have to be okay with you being okay, with the situation or opportunity not happening again and I have to not hate you, myself, the opportunity for anything. I have to wish the best as I reflect and re-journey. 

Olu Ajoba