Second Chances

I’ll admit it. I’m one of the first people to offer someone the benefit of doubt.  It might be a weakness, but my mind just goes there. Perhaps it is due to my Catholic education and upbringing, which emphasized: suffering and punishment are part of the human condition; forgive and forget; turn the other cheek.  In our dealings with society, there are subliminal messages everywhere: get over it already, move on, it’s not important, don’t take yourself so seriously- it’s not about you.  

We’re all too busy managing the frenetic pace of daily life to get hung up on bad news, hidden agendas or perceived slights.  In fact, in order to achieve personal well being there’s an expectation that we must leave disappointment behind like a foul odor.  In reality most of us are incapable of operating on that plane all the time. If given the opportunity, would any of us willingly offer a second chance to someone that crossed the line with what we conceive to be acceptable behavior?

That question tackled me as I powered on my mobile this morning.  The messenger app blinked urgently: I had a private FB message. As I am not a regular on social media, only sleepy curiosity caused me to tap the icon. A woman who had been a dear friend of mine was curious as to why I walked out of a restaurant ten years ago never to see her again. That’s a mindful before a second cup of French roast. Several emotions swirled.  First, I was delighted that she noticed we weren’t in contact anymore, but then irritation seized the day. Who was to blame? My recollection was that after a series of unanswered voicemails and emails, I shoved my tail between my legs and limped off.

Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it?  My friend’s message implied that I’d been the culprit in closing down our friendship.  Yet, I remembered losing sleep, my mind pulsed with ‘what did I say”, “what did I do to deserve this treatment”. The acute rip of rejection lingered for months, then faded like the pink rose in an old corsage. A decade is too long to hold on to negative energy. I responded immediately in messenger: “Let’s get together and talk about this. Start over?”  We set a lunch date. The friendship is getting a second chance because we are both willing to forget about the past.

There is something magical about reaching middle age— you become unafraid to take risks and dabble in adventurous pursuits, and to make changes that have been percolating for years. About eight years ago, I got a bee in my bonnet to find the people who were my first parents, the biological gene pool that left my twin sister and I at Catholic Charities as infants. Whether it was courage or just pesky curiosity, finding my birth relatives became a personal crusade.  Actually, more like a full-on assault. Without going into the saga that played out over eight years (I’m writing a memoir about my search. Updates are on my website: juliemcgueauthor.com), I located my birth mom and she rejected me again. In retrospect, her denial of contact was due to a myriad of factors. One being that my outreach came in the mail without warning, and the second was that her husband was oblivious as to our existence. I had no way of knowing that set of circumstances and she offered me no recourse.  It was a devastating outcome.

After nearly a year, my biological mother had a change of heart, had the courage to inform her spouse and then requested a reunion with my sister and I.  Reconnecting with a phantom parent has been glorious, stuff dreams are made of, but it was not without multiple speed bumps, some of which were more like train wrecks.  Still, my mother and I are communicating either by phone or mail. The whole point of my second tale is that any level of communication is possible if the two parties are willing.  People are people. We all got stuff. Needs and wants are colliding faster than atoms. I give my other mother the benefit of the doubt more than I should because I want her in my life.  I’ve had to adjust the level of contact with her to accommodate boundaries and at the same time I adjusted my expectations of our relationship. Maybe that’s the answer. Not just forgive and forget, but accept boundaries, adjust expectations, and be open in your communication.  

I don’t think you have to be a middle-aged woman to have an open mind when it comes to friendships, relationships, and dealing with random people. You could call it ‘turning the other cheek’ or ‘forgive and forget’ or perhaps you can frame it as offering humanity a second chance. There’s no harm done in reaching out. Your hand might get slapped but the limb will still be attached. Just try it, extend yourself- see what a second chance might offer. The soul on the other end might need you just as much as you need them.