Moving on just in time for the New Year

I hadn’t been to the symphony since grade school. But in the spirit of the season, last weekend I squeezed into a crowded performance hall for a holiday pops concert. The vast majority of people in the audience had grey hair, and many were wearing masks. A lot of stuff is going around. So when the woman sitting directly behind me starting coughing up a lung, people were visibly agitated.

Why didn’t she stand up and walk to the lobby? Even at intermission, she didn’t budge. The longer it went on, the more irritated I became at her lack of consideration for everyone else who had driven through the snow to get there. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to shoot her a nasty look.

The coughing woman was a blight on what would have otherwise been a fantastic concert.

I was very mad at her.

When things are left unsaid

On the ride home, as I stuffed down my frustration, I thought about a recurring dream I’ve been having for the past few weeks.

This summer a person I’ve known for nearly 30 years, through an organization we’re both involved in, let me down. Although she wasn’t the type of friend I would call in a crisis, I would have definitely classified her as a friend. I trusted and respected her immensely.

The details aren’t important. But on the backside of this falling out, I’m left with a feeling of injustice, having never had the opportunity to “speak my truth” and explain just how deeply her actions affected me. We haven’t had contact for several months now, but when I let myself think about the situation, I am hit by a wave of anger, hurt, and disappointment.

My subconscious mind is hard at work trying to fix things. In these recurring dreams, I confront this person and say my piece.

I think there’s a reason why these dreams have picked up in recent weeks. As I get closer and closer to the end of the year, this is something from 2023 that remains unresolved.

In relationships, they say that some things are better left unsaid. But just as true: it’s often what we don’t say that takes root as a poisonous vine. I’ve thought about writing a letter, but I know how mentally and emotionally draining that would be. I would end up editing and re-editing it for days.

So, what do I do with this internal chest of unsaid things? I’m not exactly ready to forgive. But I’m tired of feeling resentful and angry.

A similar, but different, story

I’m a person who avoids conflict at all costs. So I don’t have many tales of relationship woes. But nearly a decade ago, I found myself in another complicated situation with someone in my community who I liked — and wanted to like me.

In this scenario, there was a fair amount of gray, as there usually is. We had each said what we needed to say but were unable to come to any resolution. In the end, the person put a full stop to our endless circling and rehashing of things in a nicely written email. She wrote: “I offer us each grace.”

This was her way of letting us both off the hook. And it brought me a tremendous sense of relief.

Although I haven’t been in touch with her since — and remain a little salty over what happened between us, to this day I am grateful to her for the way she resolved the unresolvable.

In relationships, grace is that moment when we realize we’ve reached our limits and call a truce before we push each other off the ledge.

“I release you.”

We humans are complicated. Nothing is ever black and white. Everything we do is motivated by 100 other things; we don’t even know what they are. And when we get ourselves in a tangle, sometimes there’s no other solution than to break out the scissors.

It’s not always possible to retrace our steps to the birthplace of our disagreement and start afresh. But we always have the opportunity to put down our swords. We can effectively say, “We’re both imperfect and no one’s going to win here. But it’s OK; I wish you well.”

This reminds me of a line from one of my favorite holiday movies, “A Christmas Carol,” when Ebenezer Scrooge’s girlfriend, Belle, breaks up with him with the very dramatic — ”Ebenezer, I release you. You are a free man. I let you go with a full heart.”

In a legal dispute, we call this a mutual release agreement — an efficient and professional way of cutting ties and allowing each party to get on with things.

Sometimes we simply have to release each other.

Moving on

Where does this realization leave me?

In an odd sort of way, I’m thankful to the coughing woman at the concert for shining the light on something I needed to work on. I’ve stopped having those recurring dreams about my friend since starting to write this a few days ago. So I guess the process of writing has helped me move on.

Just yesterday I took a pencil and lightly struck through this person’s name in my address book. She won’t be getting a holiday card from me this year. But in my heart, I wish her a happy, healthy New Year. And that’s my Christmas gift to myself.