What Makes Us Girls

by Brittany Pettibone

  The second part of the debt relates to atonement. Atoning for a betrayal is almost never as simple as offering an apology, even if the apology is sincere, and then moving on. We may be required to work for days, months or even years to prove the sincerity of our remorse and our desire to be a better person. If we succeed though, chances are, we’ll not only be able to fully heal the betrayal, but rebuild the broken bond of trust.

  There is a common phrase, “Once a cheater, always a cheater.” In many cases, this might prove true. But it’s definitely not true across the board. Even a serial betrayer can change. Like Jack.

  A few months ago, I stumbled across an old friend’s Instagram. To my surprise, she’d posted a photo of herself and Jack, announcing that they’d recently begun dating. My first instinct was concern. I was sure he’d treat her in the same way that he’d treated me. But once I succeeded in pushing aside my own negative experience with him, I realized how different he looked: healthier, happier, he was even better dressed. Perhaps the fact that he’d had a son a few years back is what spurred his change. In most of his photos, he proudly included his son: the first day of school, sports events, and so on. From what I could see, he loved being a father.

  Furthermore, if I know one thing about my friend, it’s that she’d never knowingly date a cheater. Most girls wouldn’t. And since my friend knew of Jack’s past betrayal towards me and still made the decision to date him, it could only be because he’s drastically changed for the better.

  Believe it or not, the girl at my high school who betrayed me with Jack also changed. While we didn’t speak much for a few years following the betrayal, we ended up becoming friends after graduation. She’d found a good job and was in a stable relationship. She and her boyfriend went on to date for nearly ten years before he proposed; they’re planning to get married sometime next year. The point is that some people simply go through bad periods, but these bad periods aren’t destined to define them for their entire lives.

  In contrast, I know of another serial cheater who, even after being given several chances to change, was unable to do so…

  Damien was a husband and a father to three children. But despite this, despite having a wonderful wife and family at home, he repeatedly cheated and even ended up impregnating one of his mistresses. Damien’s wife separated from him upon learning he was having a baby with another woman, but several years later, agreed to give him another chance. For awhile, her decision seemed like it had been the right one. But then, after walking the straight and narrow for about two years, Damien stumbled back into his old ways. He cheated. This time, his wife separated from him permanently.

  It’s always a noble virtue to be forgiving and to be open to offering second, third and even fourth chances as Damien’s wife did. Unfortunately, one-sided efforts aren’t enough. All successful relationships require a combined effort of two individuals.

  8

  “We gather our arms full of guilt as though it were precious stuff. It must be that we want it that way.”

  — John Steinbeck

  When Guilt is a Blindfold

  “Please make your way to your assigned seats. Testing will begin in five minutes.”

  The classroom lights were brightening as Nora found her seat in the middle row. Students streamed anxiously to their assigned positions, filling eight levels of horseshoe-shaped bleachers. Nora shrugged off her blazer, her hands trembling fitfully, and loosened the collar of her button-down shirt. The head pains had started an hour ago; she hadn’t taken Adderall that morning. Her stash had run dry. She’d planned to pick up another bottle before exams started, but her supplier had jacked his prices due to decreased competition on campus—and during exam time, no less. She wasn’t the only one who was outraged.

  Weeks she’d spent studying for these tests. Scoring poorly wasn’t an option, not if she intended to graduate with Honors. But without the Adderall…

  Still shaking, she sipped from a water bottle she kept tucked in her bag.

  “Hey, you feeling okay?” someone whispered.

  “Just nervous,” Nora replied.

  “Yeah, totally.”

  The Professor rose from his desk at the front of the room. “You may begin,” he said, scanning the bleachers through square, silver-rim glasses.

  Nora inhaled a thin breath, now nauseated. With a trembling hand, she picked up her pencil, opened her test booklet and read the first essay question.

  Those of us who are perfectionists will know that guilt is not always positive. At times, it can feel like more of a curse than a blessing. We’re incapable of putting anything out into the world that isn’t flawless. Not only this, but we brutalize ourselves whenever we fall short—in our personal and professional lives, and if we’re religious, in our spiritual lives.I know a girl who mentally beat herself up every time she forgot to say her morning prayers. We have to cut ourselves some slack on occasion. Granted, the need for perfection might seem noble on the surface; the problem is, it’s unrealistic. A perfectionist complex pushes us to extreme lengths to achieve a goal, which can result in the deterioration of our physical and mental health.The fact is: we’re never going to achieve perfection, least of all in our own eyes.

  My twin sister, Nicole, and I have struggled with perfectionism for most of our lives. We used to delete entire chapters of our science-fiction book shortly after writing them because we were unsatisfied with some aspect or another. In fact, we rewrote our book from white paper over fifteen times, and even then, we weren’t content. The only way we were finally able to press “publish” was when we came to terms with our limitations.

  Whether we realize it or not, there’s a world of difference between aspiring to perfection and demanding it. Aspiring to perfection is noble and moral, but demanding it isn’t because human nature is inherently flawed. Moreover, demanding perfection from ourselves or others will cause unhappiness and discontent in our lives because, sooner or later, we’re always going to let ourselves or others down. Our lives will never be as perfect as an Instagram post with a filter. Others might be under the delusion that we’re perfect or that our creations are perfect, but if we are honest with ourselves, we’ll never share this delusion. We know the truth.

  And the truth is okay. There’s no failure in trying our best, even if our best turns out to be lacking on occasion. We can always work harder, return to the starting line and try again.

  When Guilt is a Guiding Light

  “Why did you do it?” your friend asks you.

  A weight, like rocks, builds up in your stomach. You bite your tongue, knowing that if you try to speak, you’ll cry. Every time you move, it’s as if the edges of the rocks are cutting you from the inside. You just want to disappear.

  Most of us have experienced a similar guilty feeling. Generally, guilt comes to us in the form of pain, but this particular pain isn’t one related to sickness. Like an ever-present ally, guilt swoops in to separate our good deeds from our bad; it proves that we still know right from wrong.

  The fact that this pain is healthy doesn’t automatically make it easy to live with. Oftentimes, it’s unbearable, torturing us from the moment we wake to the moment we sleep. Perhaps this is because, more often than not, we feel powerless to switch off our own guilt. We feel that the only thing capable of easing it is forgiveness from the person we hurt.

  What do we do, then, when the person we hurt tells us they will never forgive us? Our remorse is sincere, and we even work hard to make amends, but still their heart remains closed. “You’re dead to me,” they say. In this case, we might feel our pain is incurable.

  I once had a political friend, Violet. We used to spend hours talking over the phone, discussing our various interests and political concerns, and even confiding in one another. Violet was gorgeous, with loose brown curls and a husky laugh that sounded sleepy; unfortunately, I never got the chance to meet her in person.

  One day, Violet called me with a request. She wanted me to make a YouTube vi
deo that would raise awareness on a certain political issue. While I agreed with the issue in question, I thought the photos she wanted me to use were too extreme. The political issue was controversial in and of itself; adding the photos would only fan the flames, and possibly cause YouTube to ban me. I admit I was too afraid to take the risk. I told her no.

  Violet ended the call. Without another word, she took to social media, calling me a “coward” and a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.” She wrote that I’d let her down as a friend and that it was impossible to meet reliable people anymore. While I’d expected Violet to be angry, her level of anger took me completely by surprise. The way she spun the situation made me sound like some kind of monster. However, as I read her Facebook posts, I do recall questioning if I’d made the right decision—if there was some truth to her words. She was right in the sense that my reaction had been in part due to fear.

  I apologized to Violet, but she refused to forgive me. To this day, she still hasn’t spoken to me.

  Obviously, this example of guilt isn’t severe. Many of us, myself included, have made far worse mistakes which we’ve sought forgiveness for. We might have lied, stolen, cheated or even ruined someone’s reputation. If we’re denied forgiveness, though, the worst thing we can do as a means to cope is to drive out our guilt.

  Three summers ago, an old friend called me out of the blue over Skype. I remember thinking it strange that she was calling, for we hadn’t spoken so much as a word to each other in over a year.

  “Wow, Molly, it’s been a long—” I cut off as Molly appeared. Pale and emaciated, she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her swollen, red face glistened haggardly through the Skype screen and her expression wore a far-away look.

  “Sorry if I’m bothering you,” she said softly. “I just need someone to talk to.”

  “You’re not bothering me at all, Molly,” I assured. “We can talk as long as you want.”

  “I just—” She clenched her teeth, clearly suppressing tears. “I just want to give up.”

  At first, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I’ve never been great at comforting others. Plus, Molly’s drastically changed appearance still hadn’t registered. Although still pretty, she’d lost the spark she’d had before moving to New York City to pursue a modeling career.

  “Did…something bad happen with your modeling?” I asked.

  She laughed, an abrupt and hollow sound. “More than one bad thing…”

  “But you always look so happy in all your social media posts,” I said. And it was true; in every photo, Molly was smiling—with friends at lavish parties, with fellow models at fashion events, with her boyfriend on romantic dates. It seemed like she’d been living the high life.

  “I’m successful now, yeah, but not happy,” Molly said. “When I first moved to New York, I couldn’t book a job. It was hard to make friends. I did meet a guy, though…we ended up dating for eight months.” She swallowed hard, each word an effort. “Noah was a good guy, just not a good boyfriend. He was…neglectful.”

  I felt like I knew where the story was headed, but I didn’t interrupt.

  “A year ago, I booked my first job,” Molly continued. “I was happy because the job got me attention from other agencies. From there, I was booking jobs regularly. The craziest part was that people started to notice me: I got invited to parties. A few celebrities asked me out and others sent me gifts. I even gained fifteen-thousand followers on social media.” She paused to rub her eyes, which were now red and swollen. “I don’t know how to describe it other than my life changed overnight. It was as if, suddenly one day everyone realized I was special…except for Noah.” She shook her head. “He didn’t even seem to care. He was always busy with his own job. Sometimes, two weeks would pass without so much as a text message. At this point, I’d break down and call him up, telling him that I needed him.”

  “Did you cheat on him?” I asked quietly.

  A tear rolled down Molly’s cheek. She wiped it away and sat in silence a while. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah…with a guy I hardly knew. I felt so bad that I broke up with Noah the next day. It was like I’d unleashed something dark inside myself. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but somehow, I managed to block out the guilt. For the next couple of months, I jumped from party to party and from guy to guy. I even…started doing drugs.”

  Molly was sobbing now. The urge to comfort her arose, but I resisted. I knew that a desire for validation wasn’t why she’d called. Had validation been her motive, I probably would’ve hung up a long time ago.

  “What woke you up?” I asked.

  “Visiting home a few weeks ago.” She sniffled. “Being back with my family, seeing all my old friends and going back to church made me realize that modeling isn’t the life I want. I’m not this person, Britt. I want to leave New York. I want to go home, and I want to meet a nice guy…maybe even start a family. The problem is—”

  Molly didn’t have to say another word. I could already see that she didn’t believe she deserved a second chance.

  “Did you ever tell Noah that you cheated?” I asked.

  “I wanted to,” Molly said. “But by the time I woke up, we’d been broken up for months. I didn’t even know where he was anymore. When I visited home, I asked a priest for advice. He told me it wasn’t necessary to contact Noah because he was no longer in my life. Instead, he told me that I needed to make amends in other ways.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Molly gripped her head in her hands, sobbing loudly. “Because I can’t, Britt. I’ve gone too far. I used to be the girl who looked down on other girls for cheating on their boyfriends, and now…now I’m one of them.” She wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. “But it’s not me, Britt, I promise. I just got lost for a while. I’d never do something like this again.”

  I believed Molly, but I didn’t tell her so. Instead, I listened in silence until she stopped talking. My first instinct was to wait and see what Molly did next. Molly knew as well as I did that apologies, even sincere apologies, weren’t enough.

  Eventually, Molly did show remorse through her actions. A few weeks later, she left New York. She moved back home with her family, reconnected with her old friends and started going back to church. Ultimately, given the choice between fame and anonymity, she chose the latter. To this day, Molly hasn’t dated anyone. I assume it’s because she’s taking time to “work on herself,” because these were the last words she spoke to me.

  No one, not even the greatest sinner, is irredeemable—at least not in the eyes of God. Plus, sometimes good people make mistakes because they’re simply in a bad state-of-mind. They allow themselves to go too far, but right before hitting rock bottom, they catch themselves. Perhaps, in Molly’s case, she wouldn’t have gone so far if she hadn’t tried to suppress her guilt.

  In a way, shutting off our guilt is like shutting off our moral compass. Without a guiding light, the path ahead becomes blurred. It’s a bit like existing on autopilot. Mistake after mistake after mistake…until, like Molly, we no longer recognize ourselves.

  The main revelation I had during my conversation with Molly was that, even if we’re forgiven by others, it’s almost always insufficient. While receiving forgiveness from others is extremely important—and oftentimes necessary for certain people to move on—what’s even more necessary is forgiving ourselves. Forgiveness from others might give us the stability-of-mind to forge ahead in the short-term, but forgiveness of self is what gives us the stability-of-mind to forge ahead in the long-term.

  9

  “To err is human; to forgive, divine.”

  —Alexander Pope

  Mercy Looking Upon Misery

  I don’t usually share inspirational quotes on social media, although I do like to collect them privately; I’ve accumulated hundreds in folders on my computer. One such quote, told to me by a priest five years ago, concerns forgiveness. He described forgiveness as “mercy looking upon misery.” This description left a deep impressi
on on me. It made me view the act of forgiving in an entirely new light.

  During my early teens, I was a lot more hardheaded towards the concept of forgiveness than I am now, particularly when it came to forgiving bigmistakes. I figured that if a person messed up in a big way, it was proof that they didn’t truly care about me. What ultimately changed my mind was finding myself in a situation where I was the person who needed to be forgiven.

  In high school, I was close friends with a girl named Megan. She and her boyfriend, Kristian, dated for about three years before breaking up. A month or so after their breakup, Kristian and I went on a few dates. The dates were nothing serious; we were just getting to know one another. But things took a downward turn when I discovered that news of our dates had upset Megan. Apparently, she still hadn’t gotten over him.

  Right away, I broke off the relationship. I felt guilty about the situation. I was sure that my friendship with Megan would change because of my insensitivity. I realized I’d been selfish not to mention dating Kristian to her beforehand, especially because we were close friends. Had our roles been reversed, I would’ve been upset too.

  The next day after school, I pulled Megan aside and apologized. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I said. “I won’t go out with Kristian again.”

  The awkward moments of silence that passed still remain distinct in my memory. Each moment grew heavier, tormenting me with the prospect of rejection.

  “It’s okay,” Megan finally said. “I’m not mad at you and it means a lot—you coming to talk. It’s hard right now, seeing him date other girls, but I guess that’s normal. I won’t be upset if you want to go out with him again. I get that we both need to move on.”