Monday, I return to court for the final act. Well, at least I intend it to be the final act.
My experiences over the last several years has shown me how often my ego and pride need to be satiated before I will forgive someone I have decided has failed me. Even then I'm not sure I am forgiving as much as waiting to be right again.
Today I recognize my choices for what they were—an unfortunate and unskillful habit of treating how I felt like a directive. I realize how often, in intimate and vulnerable relationships, I responded with a habituated neurological urge to pursue what I considered comfortable feelings while avoiding the discomfort.