The most precious gift we have next to life is our hearts. The vast majority of us have been heartbroken or betrayed once or twice and it's really hard to make sense of heartbreak when it happens to you. I met a eccentric French man, once, who had lost his father early in his life, before 5. His father had abandoned him young and he grew up fragmented and heartbroken. On the hand the guy was a genius, he ran the company we worked for better than anyone. At work he took no bullshit, had high expectations, and could make you cry with one look. He had this way of calling you out. There was no room for mediocrity with this man. He upheld a level of standards and expectations of his employees and his business boomed. On the other hand, the guy was a complete child. In his romantic relationships he would do things to the women he was with just to see if they cared or how far their love extended. In layman's terms, I think he wanted to know what women would do to keep him. Some would put up with his shit while others would leave him. Though I saw this whole twisted scenario go on both professionally and as friends, I never thought he would find a way to test me. When we met we had instant chemistry. Not the kind of chemistry lovers has. This was kinship or some sort of soul connection. We were bonded and we were friends. I respected him as my boss. He whooped my ass into shape, but I loved how he challenged me and wouldn't take any excuses. He wanted to bring out the best in me and I saw him as a blessing rather than a thorn in my side. It never occurred to me that how he treated women outside of the work place or the women in his personal life would ultimately trickle down to me. We were good friends. We respected each other. For years I watched him at less than honorable in his personal life, but I saw through his game. I knew him beyond all that. Then one day it comes to my attention that he led everyone in our workplace to believe we had been more than friends. Like this secret everyone knew expect for me. I confronted him. And he told me in his thick French accent, "I tell people what they want to hear. Don't worry, your reputation will stay in tact." I couldn't believe it. Not me. We were friends. How could he? Then it hit me, like a 50 pound dumbbell to the toe, he pushed away everyone he felt close to, by doing the worst things to them in order to recreate the story of his childhood where his dad left him. And he was doing it with me like he would have anyone, because deep down he believed that no matter who claimed to love him, they would ultimately abandon him. I thought about it. Believe me. I don't take kindly to betrayal. But my connection to him was just as deep as his dysfunction. The day he left to move back to Paris, I sobbed like I don't think I have ever even sobbed over a boyfriend. Not because he betrayed me. Because I loved him and I was going to miss having him in my life. He had been such a powerful teacher. He had taught me how to expect more of myself and that in the end someone as fractured as he could still bring out the best in others. For all of his personal flaws his gifts reached me and in the end he gave me so much. I grew exponentially from a man who was such just a little wounded child on the inside. It's amazing when someone can give you so much. After he left I wrote to him and I expressed my feelings. I didn't speak about what he did, I just expressed my heart. I was grieving and I loved him more than I ever knew how to convey. Four years later he came back to America to see me and told me that it was only when he left and I wrote to him he knew how much he had meant to someone. It was the first time in his life he could ever feel another person loving him. He knew I would never abandon him. When someone hurts you it's easy to hold on to that hurt as protection, but holding on to hurt doesn't protect you from what you feel. You love who you love even if they screw up or do awful things. My friend wounded me and betrayed my trust in the worst way, and yet I looked beyond the action into the heart of why he had done what he did and I forgave him. I forgave him because I saw he was a wounded little boy who loved me so much he was afraid that I would leave him. He pushed me to leave him. And I could have. But I would have suffered and my love is not conditional. What others do is about them. You can handle pain. You can handle your loved ones making mistakes. You are capable of forgiveness, but it means that you have to SEE beyond the action into the heart of the other person and be willing to hold it no matter how much it personally tears you up. That is LOVE. I have just shared my personal experience of how I arrived at peace with someone I didn't know if I could forgive. Have you ever been so hurt or angry that you haven't forgiven? Would you be willing to revisit that experience? I would love to hear from you. Please leave your comments in the box below. If you found this inspiring share the love with others. Post it on FB, Pinterest or Tweet it. XO, Hayley