I haven't seen much evidence that H has forgiven me...he's never made it a secret that he stayed so he could be with his kids.
BTDT. I'm sorry for you and the pain I know comes with such... understanding.
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Have I forgiven myself? I don't know. I don't beat myself up over it, but I'm still deeply ashamed and embarrassed. I certainly wish I'd have shown more strength of character and I don't really blame H for not being able to get past it.
Ah, well, then you haven't forgiven yourself. Not yet. It's okay. It comes. We are all less than perfect. We all slip. Were we all perfect, none of us would be here, and we wouldn't know the wonderful imperfection of one another, now would we? Isn't it funny how forgiveness is so easily given to another, but not so with ourselves?
Tell me. If you were to believe in a God, or an infinite wisdom of some type, and you asked His forgiveness, do you think He would give it? And if He gave it, in His infinite wisdom... yet you were not able to give it to yourself, in face of His forgiveness... what, then, would that say of your faith in infinite wisdom?
Just a rhetorical question I often ask myself when I beat myself to a bloody pulp.
