Forgiveness
Of course I can forgive you.
I can even understand why you did the things you did, and why you said the things you said.
I can hold space for your feelings, insecurities, and vulnerability.
How could I understand all of that and not forgive you?
But that doesn’t mean I can trust you.
I know that you were willing to lie when you felt challenged.
I know that you wanted to intimidate me and make me feel small.
I know that you projected what you were doing onto me.
I know that you were comfortable turning on me as a whipping boy and scapegoat.
I know that when I called you on it, you became more volatile, not less.
I know that we don’t share some of the values that I though we did, even though you purport to uphold these values when you’re not having big feelings.
I know that when you had big feelings you lashed out, instead of regulating and repairing.
I know you haven’t done anything to repair this, and I don’t expect that will change.
Forgiving you isn’t the same as trusting you. The ease with which you jumped into attack mode told me you are unsafe.
Forgiving doesn’t mean endorsing. Forgiving isn’t saying “I was wrong to have healthy boundaries,” but rather, “I see the humanness in you crossing them.”
So, of course I forgive you, but I’ll never assume we’re on the same team. When I work with you, I’ll tiptoe around and it’ll dampen the effectiveness of the work we’re trying to do. I know you don’t have my back, and that there’s now a history telling me to watch my back instead.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring this many red flags.
I apologize for how reactive I was before I realized that I was triggered, and needed to see the red flags my nervous system was indicating. I have a long history of red flags like these in my “friendships,” and it’s hard not to remember all of them.
Go Trust Yourself
Survivor Literacy 
What do you think?