The Grudge

Scapegoat (name has been changed) and I are roommates. We're both very different people, but we became good friends under trying circumstances. When those circumstances improved, then we started bugging each other. By now we're too close to think of simply ending the friendship, so we have to push on through these spats and annoyances, bruising, breaking, sometimes making the right choice, sometimes not, but making it through and (hopefully) learning a lot along the way. It's been a pretty new situation for me, because I don't usually get so close to roommates who can rile me like she does sometimes. So instead of squeezing my eyes shut and repeating "it's only a few weeks more, only a few weeks," I need to help work things out.

The hard part is, we have completely different ideas about the best way to work things out.

Here's the latest. This weekend an event happened that we both perceived differently.

Scapegoat's POV: She was doing me a favor. I freaked out for no good reason. Then I got mad and stayed that way for a couple days.

My POV: I was doing her a favor. She blew up at me for no reason. Then she got mad and stayed that way for a couple days.

In previous spats, I've felt like I'm the one who usually gives in first and apologizes. This is because when something goes wrong, I want to talk about it, and she wants to exchange gifts and forget it ever happened. Scapegoat doesn't apologize if she can possibly help it. I've reminded myself that this is her way of doing things; I've accepted her peace offerings for her sake and tried to brush aside my dissatisfaction that words I wanted to say weren't invited, and words I wanted to hear weren't offered. I say I tried to brush it off, but I have to admit that I didn't really succeed. It still rankled, a little more each time, when I did the apologies and she did the offering and forgetting all about it.

This time I decided (and it was foolish, I know) I was going to wait it out and see if she would move first. I didn't expect an apology at first, even; just to have her come to me, ready to admit that she might actually have done something wrong and willing to talk it over. I wanted to know that she considered our relationship as more important than her pride or having her way and that she cared enough to listen.

Well, it's been kind of a long wait. Yesterday I found a note taped inside my bathroom cupboard, telling me to "have a splendid day!" I was glad to see that Scapegoat was feeling reconcilatory, and Scapegoat is free to leave nice notes for me anywhere she likes, but it wasn't the right bandage for the wound. It reminded me of a certain steak dinner a certain other roommate once made for us. I love a free meal as much as the next person, especially one so delicious, but in no way did it resolve the underlying issues in the apartment the way she seemed to think it would. "Nice try, Scapegoat," I said to myself. "Keep thinking."

We didn't really cross paths the rest of the day, but yesterday evening I overheard Scapegoat discussing the situation and her frustration with me on the phone with a friend (because, Scapegoat, a) I'm not stupid and b) you talk loud). It stung a little, even though she wasn't vicious about it or anything; she would rather discuss things with an uninvolved friend than with me. About ten minutes later she trotted over to my room on her high horse to ask me if I was still mad at her. Essentially, my answer was "yes." There were no further questions.

It was discouraging, and this morning I'm tired in a few different ways. Mostly I'm tired of holding onto this grudge. This isn't the most direct way, but maybe it doesn't matter, because it seems I'm the one who needs words.

Scapegoat, I give up. I apologize for being prideful and for dragging this out in the name of teaching you a lesson. I ignored the fact that it's not my job to teach you these things, and even if it was, holding a grudge is a pretty dumb way of doing it. I forgive you for hurting me, intentionally and otherwise; I hope you'll forgive me too. It's more important to me to be your friend than to be right.

And . . . I hope you have a splendid day.