Thursday 18 December 2014

How to forgive... even when you don't want to - part 1

“Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” ~Jean Paul Sartre
  • Resentment is the poison you feed yourself, hoping someone else will die.
  • Forgiveness is a choice.
  • Refusing to forgive is living in the past.
    We don’t like admitting to the fact that some petty part of ourselves doesn’t want to forgive people. We say we “don’t know how,” and that might be true, but the other truth is that some part of us often doesn’t want to forgive.
    We don’t want to admit that this part exists, because of all the stories it piles on top of us—stories that we’re mean, petty, judgmental people.
    Of course, we’re expressing mean, petty, judgmental behaviours when we refuse to forgive.
    It’s not intentional, it’s just that we've been hurt, and forgiveness feels like letting someone off the hook, or pretending that it was okay that they did what they did.
    The irrational fear is that if we forgive, someone else will do “it” again—but the truth is, whether or not we forgive has nothing to do with controlling another person’s behaviour.
    People do what they do. The only person to let off the hook is ourselves, by not concerning ourselves with monitoring someone else’s behaviour, or replaying the past.
    So, how can you move through the process of forgiving others?
    These aren’t “easy steps” by any means, especially because many of them are worked in tandem, but nonetheless they are pieces that make up the whole.
    First, acknowledge the parts of you that don’t want to forgive—that want to punish by not forgiving, that derive some artificial source of power from withholding forgiveness.
    It’s a sign of health that we become aware of those places rather than pushing them away, pretending that they don’t exist.
    Secondly, if you’re aware already of the fact that you don’t want to forgive, consider the stories that go along with that.
    I’ve already mentioned a few. Perhaps the most common is that forgiveness will mean that someone is absolved from responsibility for their behaviour.
    Here is what I know, after six years of coaching clients: When someone wrongs another, they always suffer. They might not tell you about it, or they might put on a bravado. They might not even be aware that their behaviour is at the root of their suffering.
    But trust me, they suffer. If someone is unkind, they suffer from either the conscious belief that they were unkind, or they suffer from the unconscious fallout of their behaviour. (“I don’t understand why people leave/I always get fired/I feel so isolated and alone.”)
    Third, find the common ground.
    Where are you just like this person that you don’t want to forgive? This is the part that people resist most.
    Perhaps your partner cheated on you, and you know for certain that you would never cheat on your partner. But, if cheating is a form of deception, can you see places in your life where you have deceived someone else? Are you 100% honest on your taxes? Did you ever shoplift as a teenager? Do you tell “little white lies” at work?
    No—I would never suggest that a cheating partner is equally as painful as stuffing a t-shirt into your purse when you were a young, reckless teenager.
    What I’m suggesting is that the two are borne of the same places. Deceit has its roots in fear—fear of being honest, fear of not getting something needed.
    When we see that we are equally as capable of acting out as the next person, and especially when we compassionately see the fear that drove them to behave the way they did, there’s the potential for release.
TO BE CONTINUED...

No comments:

Post a Comment