The Healing Power of Forgiveness

Forgiveness. This is a word and concept that has been part of Civilization for ages. Whether or not it comes from religious beliefs or simply the idea that we should forgive and let go of hurt and pain, real or perceived, allows us to move on as human beings. As human beings, we are hard-wired to survive what may come our way. While the dangers and choices we face may no longer include saber-toothed tigers, and the outcome of a bad situation may not mean death, that old brain, the ‘archicortex’ as I like to call it, is still calling the shots. Life, and staying alive, is so strong within us that our old brain will use any means to ensure we continue to live, and to thrive as best we can. That can mean sublimating adverse events, forgetting the pain, and simply moving on carrying the wound with us. The wound itself, is now internal, psychological, but it’s presence continues to override other choices we might make if it were not present. For example, after a bad relationship ends, any number of people are gun-shy about meeting new people and perhaps beginning a new relationship. Why? The pain caused by the former relationship is still an open wound. There has been no forgiveness, no letting go, no allowing oneself to chalk it up to experience and to exploring what it means to have a friendship, or a romance, with another person.

Why do we do this? The pain we experienced was very real, and many of us felt betrayed, deciding we could never trust this person again, or any other, for that matter. I, like everyone reading this, had that happen to me, years ago now, but after two or three years feeling angry whenever I thought about this person, about what I felt was done to me, how hurt and belittled I felt, I had an unexpected chance to close that wound, and to truly move on. I was now in a new, wonderful relationship, with someone for whom love was unconditional, in all cases. A good friend called one Monday morning, and asked if the two of us would like to come to brunch at their house this coming Sunday. Having not seen him for a while, I agreed, and said I needed to be sure that we were both able to make it, but was sure it would be great.

A day later, I received a voicemail from my friend, asking me to give him a call. When he picked up, he said he was glad we would be coming this Sunday, and said, sort of cautiously, ‘By the way, I just wanted to let you know that T.M. Is coming as well. Is that going to be okay?’ T.M. Is, of course, my ex, who had caused me so much grief. I replied, ‘Oh, sure, that’s okay,’ and we said our goodbyes and I put down the phone.

I didn’t know how to react for a couple of minutes, and I sat there without saying a thing. Then I reached for my legal pad and fountain pen and began journaling, something I’d done for a couple of years at that point, and that had helped me work through ‘old stuff’ before, and I began to write. I would do this two or three times a day, focusing on the old relationship, and metaphorically holding my own hand as I walked through it, the ups, the downs, the beginning, the end, and where I was now. The week passed, Saturday morning came, I continued to journal and get this out on paper at least. Sunday morning arrived, and soon it was time to leave for the brunch and my date with destiny. My own destiny, of course, and in my own hands, but still an unseen conclusion. On the drive up, at some point, Dave looked at me and asked if I were still okay with this, and that we could turn around and not go, if that would be better. My response was, ‘No, I’m okay with this. I think it will be good for me to face this, rather than avoiding it forever. I’ve been writing all week about it, and yes, I would rather walk up and clock him with a baseball bat, but I’ll be okay.

And I was. And my old friend and I caught up. What his family was doing, what mine was doing. His sister had another child. Did she get married again? He laughed and said, “yeah, I guess I forgot you didn’t know that.’ And so on. And in that moment, those minutes, that half-an-hour, I was able to remember why it is we fell in love when we did, as well as why we were not still together. That truly, love never dies, because in the glow of the forgiveness I’d just experienced, I realized I still loved him. Not in the same way I did before, but perhaps in a deeper, truer way now that we had moved on from each other. A realization that I knew this person better than many others would in his life, and vice-versa, and that what we experienced together, would be with us forever, and would inform so many choices we would make long after we parted. The completeness of the day, of forgiveness, of seeing the past for the truth it now brought us both, was so very illuminating, and I realized the only way to heal is through forgiveness.