AITA

There is a pretty popular reddit group called AITA. In it, people post anonymous scenarios soliciting advice. Some of the stories are of outrageous offenses. People sleeping with their best-friend’s mates and things like that. Other stories detail less in-your-face transgressions. The point of these stories is to figure out who is at fault, and who is accountable. Apparently, strangers and bots online are supposed to have the objectivity that the writer lacks, even as the writer has crafted the story from their own perspective.

“AITA” is the secular version of the question I’ve found myself posing this week. After leading and playing during two services on Sunday, cramming to finish my reading for class this past Monday, teaching two courses online during Tuesday’s snow event, and then recovering Wednesday, I felt myself dropping into that low energy and sad place. These moments when I’ve been alone in my house for days on end make me very reflective and lonely. I question why my life feels so empty as an accomplished, single woman with no kids. Of course, I acknowledge the blessings, but I also feel sad that I don’t have people with whom to share my blessings. It’s a predictable cycle.
And yet, even though I asked for my mother to pray over me Wednesday night after a bout of the “ments,” or what I see as any combination of disappointment, resentment, judgment/self-judgment, or disillusionment, I turned the attention inward. After hearing a tiktoker describe the prayer they began to pray, I started reflect on my own hand in my loneliness. The TikToker’s prayer is:
“God, if I am the problem, correct me, and if I am not the problem, protect me.”
It’s a simple prayer, right?
Not so much.
As I’ve been reflecting on this prayer, I’ve come to the conclusion that the lack of friends I have and the lack of relationship prospects I have is largely my fault. I’m not ready for certain longstanding quality relationships because I don’t know how to forgive others. Sometimes, before I’ve even experienced hurt I will retreat/avoid/draw into myself . Other times, I use this as a way to go heal, leaving the other person to figure out why I’ve pulled away.
Why is this wrong?

1. Your silence is cruel - Think of all that you discovered while you were trying to work your way to forgiving Brent.
2. Your silence is automatic judgement - You don’t give people opportunities to course correct. Think of how Rhonda asked “How can I fix this?” after the Yard Sale Meeting.
3. Your silence hands the narrative power over to others - When you don’t communicate, you give the other participants control of the story. 

Fortunately, as of August 31st, you made some strides where this set of emotional comps is concerned. You’ve broken silence with Sami and Brent. You’ve communicated a hurt to Rhonda.
You’re not all the way there yet, but you are not TA… 

*originally posted on Begin Again (Wordpress) 2/14/2025