When someone shows you who they are, Believe them...
There comes a point when you have to quit making excuses for people.
And that can be a hard fucking lesson when those people used to matter to you.
Friends. Family. People you trusted. People you defended when somebody else told you they were assholes. People you gave the benefit of the doubt to because you remembered who they used to be to you instead of paying attention to who they were being right fucking now.
Then one day they show you.
Maybe they lie.
Maybe they betray you.
Maybe they disrespect you in a way you never thought they would.
Maybe when the chips are down, you discover that the friendship you thought you had existed a whole lot more on your side than it did on theirs.
And there is a hell of a temptation afterward to figure out why.
Why would they do that?
How could they treat me like that?
After everything I've done?
Don't they understand what they did?
Maybe they do.
Maybe they don't.
Eventually, it doesn't fucking matter.
THEY SHOWED YOU. BELIEVE THEM.
That's the lesson I'm working on.
Not because I suddenly stopped being pissed off.
I haven't.
Not because what happened suddenly became acceptable.
It didn't.
And not because I've reached some enlightened Stoic state where nothing bothers me and I'm sitting on a mountaintop discussing virtue with Marcus Aurelius.
Fuck no.
I'm pissed.
But here's the distinction I needed to understand:
Being done with somebody is a decision.
Being angry at somebody is an emotion.
I can keep the decision and let go of the emotion.
Those are two completely different things.
Letting go of my anger doesn't require me to let somebody back into my life.
Forgiveness doesn't require reconciliation.
Moving forward doesn't mean pretending nothing happened.
And peace doesn't require me to convince the people who hurt me that they were wrong.
That last one is a motherfucker.
Because when somebody disrespects you badly enough, part of you wants the trial.
You want to present Exhibit A through Exhibit Fucking Z.
You want them to finally understand.
You want the apology.
You want that moment where they look at everything and say:
"Ross was right. We treated him like shit."
Maybe that moment comes.
Maybe it doesn't.
But if I require that moment before I can move on, then I've handed those people control over when I'm allowed to be okay again.
And Epictetus would have had something to say about that shit.
WHAT'S ACTUALLY MINE?
Epictetus begins the Enchiridion with one of the simplest and hardest ideas in Stoicism: some things are within our control and others aren't.
Our judgments, choices and actions belong to us.
Other people's behavior, opinions and decisions don't.
That sounds ridiculously simple until you're the one who's been betrayed.
Because suddenly you desperately want control over something that isn't yours.
I want them to understand.
Not mine.
I want them to regret it.
Not mine.
I want them to admit what happened.
Still not mine.
I want them to treat friendship the way I think friendship should be treated.
Nope.
But whether I spend tomorrow pissed off about yesterday?
Now we're getting into my territory.
Epictetus gets even more specific when talking about insults. His point isn't that insults don't happen. It's that when someone provokes us, our judgment about what happened is what keeps the provocation alive—and gaining some time before reacting makes self-command easier.
That's a hell of a distinction.
It doesn't absolve the asshole.
It puts me back in charge of me.
I DON'T HAVE TO GET OVER WHAT THEY DID TODAY
This is the part that finally clicked for me:
I don't have to get over what they did today.
I need to get over the idea that they need to understand what they did before I can move forward.
That's different.
Pain takes whatever time pain takes.
Anger doesn't disappear because you read a Stoic quote on Facebook and suddenly decide you're Marcus fucking Aurelius.
But I don't have to feed it.
I don't have to replay the conversation another hundred times.
I don't have to compose imaginary speeches.
I don't have to fantasize about the day karma kicks them square in the nuts.
Because every hour I spend doing that is another hour of my life I'm giving to people I've already decided don't deserve a place in it.
That's a shitty trade.
WALK AWAY WITH THE LESSON
There's another mistake I've made before.
When somebody hurts me, I want to decide the entire relationship was bullshit.
I'm not doing that either.
There were good times.
There were memories.
There were probably times when those people genuinely were my friends.
I don't have to rewrite history just because I don't like the ending.
But I also don't have to ignore the ending because I liked the history.
People change.
Relationships change.
Circumstances expose things.
And sometimes somebody shows you something about themselves that you simply cannot unsee.
Fine.
Believe them.
Don't chase them down demanding a different answer.
Don't stand beside the road arguing with somebody who has already demonstrated exactly how much consideration they're willing to give you.
Turn around.
Start walking.
And don't keep looking over your shoulder hoping they're watching.
Because then you're still performing for them.
KEEP THE DECISION. LOSE THE POISON.
That's where I'm at.
I'm done.
That's the decision.
I'm pissed.
That's the emotion.
The decision can stay.
The emotion eventually needs to go.
Not for them.
For me.
Because resentment is a shitty souvenir.
I can remember what happened without carrying it everywhere.
I can learn from betrayal without becoming bitter.
I can establish boundaries without becoming cruel.
And I can walk away from people without spending the next ten years hoping they regret watching me leave.
They showed me something.
I believe them.
Lesson learned.
Now comes the harder part:
Keep walking.
Don't look back.
Don't wait for an apology.
Don't wait for vindication.
Don't wait for them to understand.
Take the lesson.
Leave the bullshit beside the road.
I've got better places to fucking go.
— Ross
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