For a long time I thought that comprehension was owed to me, and that I could not be fully free until I received it.

I was wrong about that, and learning I was wrong was its own kind of liberation.

Because the truth is that some people are constitutionally unable to understand that they were the villain of a story; their whole psychology is organized to prevent exactly that recognition, and no amount of consequence will breach it.

Evelyn did not walk away from that ruined vacation understanding that she had spent years feeding on her daughter-in-law.

She walked away understanding that the money had, unaccountably and unfairly, been taken from her.

That was the only lesson she was equipped to learn, and I could either spend the rest of my life waiting for her to learn a deeper one, or I could accept that she never would and take my freedom anyway, unaccompanied by her understanding.