Forgive and Forget? F*ck You and F*ck That...

Okay, that might be kind of a harsh way to kick things off, so let me dial it back.

It's no secret that I have been actively pursuing personal growth and healing for quite some time now. First with therapy, then books, podcasts, articles, meditation, spirituality, etc. Some real hippie shit up in here! I faced hard truths, both about myself and those around me. I discovered patterns of thought that had been sabotaging my wellbeing for years. I broke through a lot of baggage, trauma from my past that I'd never acknowledged, let alone shared with anyone. I walked my way through a lot of heavy emotional shit. It was uncomfortable. It was extremely difficult. Some days it was downright brutal.

But you know what?

It was freaking worth it. Because the person I am now? So much better than before! Current Me is far happier, more self-assured, more confident, and just all around lighter and more joyful than Previous Me.

But there is one area in which I still struggle, one area in which I still need some work, one area in which the baggage of Other People's Opinions still trips me up.

And that area is forgiveness.

As an inherent people-pleaser, it was my natural life-long instinct to force forgiveness upon myself, otherwise I felt I was inconveniencing those who trespassed against me, not being a loving person, or being a bitter harpy. I mean, heaven forbid I have any lingering negative feelings about the hurtful thing you keep doing while telling me I'm being too sensitive, amiright?!?

(Side note: if someone in your life keeps doing the thing you have repeatedly told them hurts you, know they don't respect you. Real truth.)

I made myself let things go on the surface for the sake of keeping peace, when deep down I was still incredibly hurt by what someone had said or done. As time went on, this pattern of forgiving before I was truly ready created some significant, deep-seated pain that went on to impact my self-worth, my self-confidence, my boundaries, and my relationships with those around me. I accepted behavior that I didn't like. I overlooked treatment that I didn't deserve and patterns that were giant red flags. I was a doormat for toxic people. And all the while, I pretended like it was fine, like a simple "I'm sorry" was enough, even when the behavior never changed. My inherent drive to be a nice person superseded my willingness or ability to look out for myself, to protect my feelings, to stick up for myself. And even as I was powering through other areas of self-growth like a mother-effing boss, I was still a freaking pushover to people. That's what nice people do, right? Best to not upset the apple cart, after all.

Or so I thought.

Over the last few years, certain events and certain people finally -- finally -- pushed me to my breaking point. Something inside me snapped and, for the first time in what felt like my entire life, I pushed back. I lashed out. I raged. That deep-seated pain that had been percolating under the surface finally boiled over, and I was ready and willing to go to war with the next person who so much as looked at me wrong.

I was going to burn.their.village.down.

Initially, this felt good. No, it felt damn good. Fuck the toxic people. Fuck their bullshit. Fuck the lies, the manipulations, the abuses, the mind games, the gaslighting, the control tactics, fuck it all. I was taking back my power.

Or so I thought.

What I was actually doing was allowing all these hurts, these betrayals, the years of doormat status to still be in control, only in an equal yet opposite way. Rather than being miserably passive, I was miserably aggressive. Every hurt, every slight, every twisted or ill-meaning action from every person who had ever wronged me sat on my shoulder like a really jaded parrot. For the first time in my life, I hated. I truly hated. Not in the way we throw it out there casually --"OMG I hate peas!"

No, no.

I physically hated people with the fire of a thousand suns. It consumed me. Rather than taking back my power like I'd thought, I had simply unleashed years of pain that had been bottled up, and I didn't know how to handle it.

Cue another round of utterly painful self-reflection. And unpacking that cargo ship of baggage was freaking hard, y'all. Facing things I'd long since buried, acknowledging hurts that had been brushed away since childhood, actually saying the feelings out loud; it broke me. But in the most amazing way. And I came to an incredibly powerful realization that lead to the biggest leap forward.

You ready for this?

You do not have to forgive anyone, for anything, until you are truly ready.

I'll say it louder for the people in the back.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO FORGIVE ANYONE, FOR ANYTHING, UNTIL YOU ARE READY.

Why?

Because doing so does you a grave disservice. By forcing forgiveness upon yourself, all you are doing is putting a bandaid over an emotional bullet hole. It might cover up the wound, but that slug is still in there, festering, destroying the flesh around it, creating gangrene of the spirit. You gotta dig that sucker out, purge the wound, let it ooze and bleed and hurt like a bitch, until your body finally begins its own natural healing process.

True forgiveness takes time. You have to walk through the emotions of what happened to you. You have to feel it in order to heal it.

Again, for the people in the back...

YOU HAVE TO FEEL IT IN ORDER TO HEAL IT.

And yeah, feeling it fucking sucks. It's easier to put the bandaid on, distract yourself, and act like everything is fine. But that wound still exists, and it will never properly heal if you just ignore it.

There will be plenty of people who tell you to turn the other cheek, to just forgive no matter what, to let it go or get over it. I hate to be the bearer of hard truth, but those people?

They're toxic.

Maybe they mean well, but their advice is shit.

Anyone who expects you to just "get over it"? They're not your people, and they don't have your best interests in mind.

Systemic forced forgiveness is unhealthy, if not abusive. And it's pervasive. But if I have learned one thing, it's this: never, I repeat, never allow anyone -- friend, family member, romantic partner, anyone at all -- to dictate to you what your feelings should be or how you should process them.

Ever.

Because forced forgiveness is a lie we tell ourselves to make others comfortable.

Real forgiveness?

It's messy. It's hard. It takes time.

But it's the only way to truly heal the hurt and move forward. Otherwise, eventually, something will happen that will be one hurt too far, and you'll end up bleeding on people who didn't cut you.

I did this. I bled on everyone around me. The hurt in my heart festered, it ate at me. I was snarly to hide the fact I was sad. I was vicious to cover up the vulnerability. I was judgmental to make myself feel like the better person. I put on a hard shell to protect the gooey caramel center that was my hurt. And it sucked.

And I am truly sorry.

That's not who I am. I am not hardened. I do not want to be nasty and jaded. I have a tender heart; I always have, and I hope I always will. And I finally got tired of carrying the weight of pain masquerading as anger. That shit gets heavy, fast.

I was finally ready to forgive.

And therein lies the baggage of Other People's Opinions mentioned above. I didn't forgive immediately, because I wasn't ready. And that apparently means I can't forgive ever.

Evidently it's one or the other. They have to be mutually exclusive.

For some, there is the perception or assumption that I have to carry a grudge forever, otherwise I'm being too passive. For others, failing to instantly forgive and allow people back into my life means that I am being too harsh, stubborn, or vindictive.

However, the truth of the matter is that it's neither. I am not obligated to forgive and forget, nor am I bound to carrying the weight of hurt or betrayal for the rest of my life.

I am learning the delicate balance of forgiveness with parameters, of letting.that.shit.go without letting go of the lesson the experience taught me.

I'm not holding on to a grudge. I'm holding on to boundaries. Boundaries that I fought hard to learn, and that I am no longer willing to overstep for the comfort or convenience of others.

I have people that I have forgiven fully and welcomed back into my life as though nothing happened. I have others that I've forgiven, but will always keep at arms length. Still others, the most egregious betrayals, will never be granted access to my life again, but I am no longer carrying the weight. And finally, I admit, there may be one or two individuals with whom forgiveness is still a work in progress. I'm human, y'all, cut me some slack!

But the lesson here is this: it is up to me where to set my boundaries with each given situation. It is my choice when and how far to forgive, and when to decide to set the weight down once and for all. Because if you do something shitty? That's on you. If, however, I choose to let that shitty thing dominate my psyche? Well that's on me.