by Willow Bradner; tiny buddha
What if you were suddenly forgiven after twenty-seven years? Marianne Williamson once said, “Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we suffered, to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness.”
Twenty-seven years ago, I committed a grave error that cost me the friendship of someone dear. At twelve, I vividly recall standing at her doorstep, pleading for forgiveness, and her telling me she couldn't do that.
Friendship has always been a challenging area for me. I used to attribute this to being uprooted every six months to three years during childhood. I believed my trust in friendships was fragile because my past taught me that eventually, one of us would leave.
Then the unimaginable occurred.
I confronted the truth of my unforgivable act. The girl, now a woman, appeared at an impromptu reunion, and I found myself across from the mistake I made twenty-seven years ago.
We were best friends. We spent nights at each other's homes and shaved our legs for the first time together. She taught me sophisticated vocabulary; I taught her swear words. We were inseparable.
Then her mother fell ill. Shortly after, she passed away.
I grew up in an unconventional household. My parents married at nineteen and had children by twenty-one. They were energetic young adults with strong opinions but little education. My paternal grandfather also died young, and instead of fostering empathy, my father adopted the attitude that when you die, you're dead—get over it.
My friend's mother was the first person most of us kids actually knew who had died. I felt the tears and remember the sadness, but like any twelve-year-old, I expected our friendship to resume normally seconds after her mom's death. Naturally, that didn't happen. Thus began a twelve-year-old "fight" over the terms of our friendship.
My parents told me she was just using her mother's death as an excuse to be difficult and that she needed to get over it. I recall my mother hissing those cruel words at my best friend. And I remember echoing a similar sentiment myself, without conviction or the wisdom of experience, thereby destroying our friendship forever.
In the years that followed, I tried to regain access to her and our friendship through apologies and attempts at conversation. Each effort was met with a firm "No" or "I'm not ready." Those words not only ruined our friendship but rippled through our mutual friends, ending many other friendships for me. I was devastated, alone, and unforgiven. I was twelve.
Now imagine being forgiven twenty-seven years later.
This morning during meditation, I was moved to tears thinking of my daughter and how carefully I have taught her empathy, giving her the pieces I lacked.
As I meditated, I realized this is where my fear in friendship resides. This is its root. The moving and uprooting didn't help my trust levels. But imagine never being forgiven for a mistake you didn't understand, for words that weren't truly yours, during a time of grief you couldn't comprehend. Imagine being abandoned by everyone you loved and trusted because you parroted your parents' flawed perspective on grief and death to your friend.
Never in a million years would I intentionally hurt anyone, let alone my best friend. With the knowledge I have now, I can't fathom how deeply she suffered from losing her mother. Her mom! The person meant to care for us, help with periods, talk about dating, and hold us when we cry. Her mother died. And I said the unthinkable. The unforgivable.
Last week, I woke up thinking, "What if the unforgivable thing that has influenced all my relationships was forgiven? What if I was forgiven? How does that fit? How does it transform in my life, in my body?"
We all carry an unforgiveness story deep inside. We don't have to wait years for the relief of receiving someone else's forgiveness, if it ever comes. We can choose to forgive ourselves now, whether they do or not, and free ourselves from the weight of shame and self-judgment. Take these three steps to do just that:
- Think about the day your unforgiveness was born. Relax and allow yourself to relive it one last time.
Close your eyes and remember: What was the context? Who was with you? What did you do? What happened afterward?
- Now imagine forgiving yourself, and if others are involved, feel their forgiveness too.
How would that feel in your body? How would it transform the beliefs you formed about friendships, partnerships, business, and life? What would you do differently if you knew you were forgiven and released the shame of your experience?
- Extend forgiveness to yourself and others, recognizing that we all do our best with the information and understanding we have based on our upbringing and time in the world.
Note: We always have the opportunity to grow wiser. Forgiveness is compassion and wisdom.
Forgiveness of ourselves and others is one of life's great lessons. We are often held hostage by our inability to forgive, and thus our potential to achieve our life's purpose is also held captive.
A heartfelt thank you to my friend who forgave me after twenty-seven years. I am honored and committed to spreading the love you showed me.
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