Forgive Yourself

I grappled for a long time with the idea of forgiveness. The word itself has shifted meaning multiple times throughout my life.

When I was a young child, forgiveness was still being friends with the girl who pushed me down on the playground. It was my mother's voice telling me everyone has bad days after a teacher raised their voice at me.

As I got older, the sermons I'd sat through on hard wooden pews started to sink in. Forgiveness started to look like Jesus. It was humbly turning the other cheek. It meant extending grace to others, even if I thought they didn't deserve it.

In early adulthood, when I took a step back from the faith I'd always clung to, forgiveness shifted again. Without the threat of hell and a very disappointed man in the sky, did forgiveness matter at all? Was I actually required to forgive those who'd wronged me, or was that simply a teaching used to brush the evil humans inflict on each other under the rug?

I'll admit it felt good to be angry... for a while. It was nice to hold grudges and stop accepting less than I deserved. It felt freeing to not always be the bigger person.

That's when I learned that forgiveness isn't really for the other person at all. Most of the time, that person doesn't care if you forgive them or not. They're probably not even sorry. But hearts weren't made to carry hatred. At some point, it's about having mercy on yourself.

I stumbled across a middle ground I felt comfortable in. I could let go of the grudge in my heart without completely dismissing the hurt it'd caused. I could forgive in my own way. Maybe a little less graceful, certainly less godlike, but it was forgiveness nonetheless.

I realized forgiveness didn't mean forgetting, despite the stupid saying. I gave myself permission to forgive while still setting boundaries. To extend grace, but not in unlimited quantities. To know when to wish someone the best but still walk away from them.

But the most challenging lesson about forgiveness I had to learn, was the one where I learned to forgive myself.

After years of working through the way other people had treated me and making peace with it, I became angry with myself.

How did I let those things happen?

Why did I stay so long?

I should've known better.

Why didn't I stand up for myself?

How did I let myself get here?

I should have seen the red flags.

And surprisingly, I found it's a lot harder to forgive me.

I don't even think I realized how much I held against myself until my therapist at the time hit me with a hard truth.

She looked over the frame of her flared glasses and said, "Forgive yourself for not knowing better until you knew better."

I know now it's a pretty popular saying, but that was the first time I'd ever heard it. I didn't even realize that was an option.

All the things I was beating myself up about, all the self-inflicted wounds on my soul, all the memories I'd replay and degrade myself for. Could I really just forgive myself?

In my stunned silence, she went on to tell me as I sat there, pointing out all the things current me would do if I sent her back in time, I was missing the lesson right in front of me. That of course the woman I am today wouldn't make the same mistakes, because those are the exact moments I learned better.

It's been years since that day, but it's stayed with me.

It didn't happen overnight, but eventually the resentment I held towards myself lessened. I'm no longer angry at the girl who didn't know better, but instead, am grateful for the woman that does.

Forgive yourself for not knowing better until you knew better.