Forgiveness Revisited
Many years ago, I read a book by Fred Luskin titled Forgive for Good. I’ve been interested in forgiveness for many years, in large part because I was raised with polar opposite messages about forgiveness. My father was the king of holding a grudge, whereas my mother seemed to me to advocate what Janis Abrahms Spring calls cheap forgiveness—in Spring’s words, “a quick and easy pardon with no processing of emotion and no coming to terms with the injury.” With Spring’s permission, I’ve posted a summary of her brilliant ideas in a different article. Her work has been invaluable to my healing process, and (through no fault of her model) I’ve known for a while that some piece of my healing wasn’t yet finished. I heard about Luskin’s book a while back and got it from the library.
The reason I’ve known that some piece of my healing wasn’t finished is that, for a long time, I continued to have “grudgy” feelings toward my previous partner. It took me a long time to realize that the previous relationship was abusive, most likely because I used to think that abuse was limited to the physical and sexual varieties. I’ve since had my eyes opened by Maggi Scarf’s book Secrets, Lies, Betrayals as well as John Gottman’s work on what he calls the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:
- Criticism
- Contempt
- Defensiveness
- Stonewalling
Once I understood that these are forms of abuse as well, I understood much better why I was so miserable in that relationship, and I got out.
I did a lot of work in therapy to process that relationship, yet I still had lingering negative feelings toward the ex. Much of Luskin’s book seemed to be trying to “logic” people out of grievances (for example, by saying it has a negative impact on health), but the book didn’t answer—for me, anyway—how to authentically process abuse in a way that heals resentment and grievances. Or maybe it did as a result of reading between the lines. At any rate, here’s what I came up with:
I’m able to let go of a grievance when I can graciously and gratefully accept a life lesson from the Universe and not blame or feel vengeful toward the messenger, who’s really just an actor in a play.
That perspective places a negative situation or relationship in a much larger context and makes it not about the person. (“Don’t take anything personally,” Don Miguel Ruiz says in The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom.) It affirms my trust in the Universe to deliver the appropriate life lessons and returns my focus to my commitment to my development as a human being. I can keep bringing myself back to this perspective if grudgy feelings come up—about the ex or anyone else.
I don’t use the term forgiveness for this process, though I know Luskin and many others would. Luskin describes forgiveness as “. . . the feeling of peace that emerges as you take your hurt less personally, take responsibility for how you feel, and become a hero instead of a victim in the story you tell.” His idea of forgiveness doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the other person.
In contrast, Spring conceives of forgiveness as “. . . a hard-won transaction, an intimate dance between two people bound together by an interpersonal violation.” What I’ve come to is instead what she calls acceptance: “. . . a responsible, authentic response to an interpersonal injury when the offender can’t or won’t engage in the healing process—when he is unwilling or unable to make good. It is a program of self-care, a generous and healing gift to oneself, accomplished by the self, for the self. It asks nothing of the offender.”
What an incredible sense of freedom.
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling they’re given wings.
— Rumi