Forgive (Reprise)

I've written about forgiveness before.

I have previously written about what it's like to forgive someone for doing something unthinkable to you. And now, I'm going to do the opposite. I’m going to write about what it's like to not yet forgive someone.

This is a painful topic. Which, I’ve been in pain, so here it goes.

I have said before that I have often felt an immense amount of guilt for not partaking in the forgiveness process, especially in reference to my relationships. I've forgiven most people who have wronged me, from the bullies in middle school to my rapist in college. 

However, this time is different. Forgiveness is gut-wrenchingly hard. It is so deeply challenging that, most days, I cannot even fathom it. My old beliefs that forgiveness equates forgetting sneak into my psyche often these days, as if to forgive means to forget the pain I've endured. And on a lot of days, forgiveness would require a key step -- forgiving myself. Forgiving myself for the havoc I wreaked on this particular relationship that ended, forgiving myself for not following my gut the numerous times it spoke to me, and forgiving myself for not knowing then what I know now.

In therapy the other day, my therapist and I talked about forgiveness and letting go. I have often felt like forgiveness was required in order to move on, as if by not forgiving someone else for their blatant hatefulness I was condoning their behavior. My therapist had me perform an exercise. She asked me to list out the things that, instead of forgiving my ex-partner for, I wanted to forgive myself for.

I thought for a solid minute and a half about this. Just pure silence. This question hit me in the face; I wasn't actually quite sure how to answer that. Forgive myself? How? Where do I even start? That list is so undoubtedly long. That list is longer than the damn grocery list I make for Trader Joe’s. 

I started to answer by saying I wanted to forgive myself for not following my gut. I continued by saying I wanted to forgive myself for not knowing then what I know now... about him, about me, about our relationship. I also wanted to forgive myself for not living in my truth -- for repetitively succumbing to the feeling of guilt, the feeling of chronic not-enoughness. I wanted to forgive myself for the ways I acted when I was in an enormous amount of pain. I wanted to forgive myself for not speaking up about that pain sooner. I wanted to forgive myself for not yet forgiving him.

It was in this exact moment I realized my therapist should probably be paid millions of dollars. She said, "do not worry about forgiving him. That may or may not come. Forgive yourself first. Start there."

This felt like the greatest permission I've ever been granted. Permission to let go of the anguish I had been hanging onto for months. Permission to let myself off the hook for not yet forgiving him. Permission to go about my life, to move on with my life, and to let good things happen to me, even if forgiveness of another human being hadn't taken place. Permission to defend myself fiercely, knowing I did everything I could have done to save what was lost. Permission.

When I was in the thick of trying to save my last relationship, I listened religiously to a song called “If It’s the Beaches” by the Avett Brothers. One of the verses goes like this:

If I could go back

That's the first thing I would do

I swear that I would

Do my best to follow through

Come up with a master plan

A homerun hit, a winning stand

A guarantee and not a promise

That I'll never let your love slip from my hands

I wanted to say these words on repeat to my ex. Over and over again. A guarantee and not a promise. I had felt such shame for making decisions out of a place of total crisis that I wanted to do anything in my power to “fix” things. Until I realized in the final moments of our relationship that, in no way, shape, or form, did he actually deserve to hear any of that. I don’t say this out of hatefulness or spite; I say this because it is the truth. What I really needed, more than anything, was to forgive myself for feeling immense guilt. Listen, I do not hate my ex. I am grateful for our relationship. It taught me what I deserve. It taught me about the ugly parts of myself that needed attention and work. It taught me to viciously defend myself because I am all that I have — I am the person I will be spending the rest of my life with. It taught me to follow my gut. And most importantly, that relationship taught me what love is not.

We can recognize and identify love by knowing what it isn’t. Love is not a text message breakup. Love is not being in another relationship before your current one is over. Love is not arrogant. Love is not manipulative. Love does not serve ultimatums. Love stays even if you are in extreme pain. Love is there for you through the crisis of identity, relentlessly and willingly. Love is receptive when you apologize. Love forgives. 

Read that last line again. I will, too.

Love forgives. 

At this point you think I’ve either lost my marbles or you think I cannot write for shit. Love forgives. I will forgive myself because I love myself. I will forgive him eventually because, at one point, I did love him. But love for yourself is at the forefront… it’s the most important and pressing task at hand. So, once I forgive myself, I comfortably assume the rest will fall into place. All good things that have transpired in my life have typically come from a place of deep self love. 

Love forgives. So I can, too.

Now, I listen to a song called “I Would Be Sad” by the Avett Brothers a lot. Here’s a verse I particularly resonate with:

I meant what I said when I said I would rearrange my plans and change for you

You know me, I've always been the kind with easy confidence

Confident enough to honestly believe that nothing out there stopping me 

Especially not someone who's not loving me

Now listen here I told you I could live on with out loving you

I was bluffing then, but it seems that just might have been the truth

I think peace comes with forgiveness. But I also think peace comes without it. I think, ultimately, peace comes when you have come to terms with the circumstances at hand. I cannot forgive him. Not yet, and not now. But I can forgive myself. And with that, I have all the peace I need right now. 

Forgive yourself first. Start there.

“Forgiveness is taking the knife out of your own back and not using it to hurt anyone else no matter how they hurt you.”