Forgiveness

As a young woman I was conditioned to see my anger as dangerous and undesirable. I remember being scolded for fighting with my sister and reprimanded for raising my voice. The irony of it is that my parents were extraordinarily comfortable expressing their anger. They casually waged war against one another and the world around them most days of the week. So, though I witnessed it, I wasn’t ever invited into it. And more than that, I learnt to be afraid of it and I felt powerless in its presence. I bypassed my anger and settled instead for expressing other emotions, the ones that were acceptable. This worked up until recently, when I discovered that I am undeniably and unequivocally pissed off.

Years of swallowing my anger has left me resentful. I tolerated sub-par (at best) and downright shitty (at worst) treatment because I was afraid I’d upset someone or that they would leave if I spoke up. I saw my boundaries more as a kindly suggestion on a road sign then a clear and secure fence designed to protect myself. A tension existed in some of closest relationships because of words left unsaid. And so, the smallest act committed against me stirred up years of stagnant bitterness. At the end of last year, I decided this was no way to continue.

I had read and learnt about the power of forgiveness. I’d spent hours in mediation trying to forgive myself and others. But it didn’t work. And recently I discovered why. Emotion won’t move until you feel it. You can’t side-step it. The only way release it is to walk through it. Anger is fire, perilous and beautiful. There is power in it. We feel anger when there is injustice and when someone’s words or actions scratch against our sense of self-worth like sandpaper. It motivates us to take a stand for others and for ourselves. It is also a pathway to discover deeper emotions. If we fear it then we avoid it. We fail to learn the lessons it can teach us; we forgo the opportunity to understand ourselves better and receive the respect that we deserve in relationships.

And so that’s how I have started this year, with full conviction, allowing myself to feel the anger of the past. Stepping into it and the emotions underneath it, then letting it go and in the process forgiving those who have hurt me. I’ve spoken about it, written letters and have, with curiosity and compassion, explored where it sits in my body. And while this process has permitted me to mend many of my relationships, I wanted to find a way to end the pattern permanently. So, I’ve started (quietly and tentatively for now) speaking up when I start to feel anger simmering within me. And each time I share, and the world doesn’t fall apart I realise that I have overestimated the threat, that most people aren’t going to run off just because I’ve called them out. And when somebody does (because somebody will) there will be more lessons to unpack around the value I place on being liked and the fears I have about being left.

When it comes to forgiving myself it’s not anger but guilt and shame that I have to sit with, and that’s next on the check list. For now, I’m feeling hopeful. My mum called me yesterday and it we had a perfectly mundane conversation about swimming in the winter. When she mentioned that I should be exercising more often I calmly told her I wasn’t really interested in her take on it. After the conversation I hung up and got back to work. No heavy feeling in my chest or tightening in my shoulders, I didn’t feel the need to recount the other five times she had pissed me off this month or punch my boxing bag to deafening rap music. All in all it seems like progress, I feel less tied down and more optimistic and what better way to start 2021 than in this vein.