What Forgiveness Is (and What it is Not)

The dictionary defines forgiveness as:

(to) stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake.

But that doesn’t even come close to capturing the strong emotion and indignant protest that the term often evokes.

For forgiveness to even be a concern, it means that you have been hurt. Perhaps badly. Wronged. Perhaps repeatedly and intentionally. And it feels erroneous to forgive. Unfair. As though we were victimized once and are now being asked to do it again as we offer an olive branch of amnesty instead of sticking that branch where the sun don’t shine.

But don’t worry.

I’m not asking you to forgive.

I’m simply asking you to reconsider what it means to forgive.

And what you do with that is up to you.

Forgiveness is … freedom.

When we hold on to anger or resentment, it binds us to the past. It allows what happened to us to define us and limits our future. Forgiveness is freedom; it is the release from the shackles that anchor you. It is a lightness. A sense of peace.

Forgiveness is not … a pardon.

Forgiveness does not mean that you give someone a free pass. The choices that your assailant made are his or her own burden. When you forgive, you do not relieve them of their liability; you release your encumbrance.


Forgiveness is … acceptance.

It’s natural to turn away from pain. It’s normal to try to rationalize and minimize the bad that has happened to us. Forgiveness requires facing the truth. Seeing the truth. And accepting the truth.

Forgiveness is not … approval.

Accepting what happened does not come with a stamp of approval. You can forgive even while you renounce the choices that were made and the actions that were carried out.


Forgiveness is … acknowledgement.

Forgiveness means that you recognize what happened. You face the reality and address the fallout. You don’t deny the impact and you acknowledge the suffering.

Forgiveness is not … allowance.

You do not have to allow the suffering to continue in order to forgive. You can forgive someone and still remove them your life. You do not have to allow the pain to continue.


Forgiveness is … independent.

Forgiveness requires no one other than yourself. You possess everything you need to forgive the one who wronged you.

Forgiveness is not … dependent upon apology.

Your abuser may never offer condolences. Don’t make the mistake of attaching your well-being to something you cannot control. You can forgive even if the desired apology never comes. Here’s how.


Forgiveness is … letting go.

Quitting is out of fear. Letting go is born from acceptance. Forgiveness is choosing to let go of the anger. Of the resentment. Of the need for retribution and revenge.

Forgiveness is not … letting them off the hook.

Letting go of the anger does not mean you relieve them of any consequence. You can forgive and still file a police report. You can forgive and still allow bad decisions to catch up. You can forgive and let karma take care of the rest.


Forgiveness is … taking responsibility.

Forgiveness is taking responsibility for your own happiness. It is refusing to stay a victim and making the effort to regain confidence and control in your own life.

Forgiveness is not … assuming culpability.

There is a difference between taking responsibility for your own actions and taking the blame for someone else’s. When you forgive, you are not assuming the culpability for your assailant’s actions. That’s on them. And how you choose to respond is on you.


Forgiveness is … reached when you are ready.

Forgiveness comes in slowly. It seems impossible until one day, it’s not. It is a process, not a switch.

Forgiveness is not … performed upon demand.

“Will you forgive me?” never works. It comes from a place of assuaging guilt whereas forgiveness comes from within as a means of releasing anguish.


Forgiveness is … quiet agreement.

You can forgive and never tell a soul. Forgiveness is for you. It is an agreement you make with yourself and chose to carry out in your thoughts and actions.

Forgiveness is not … a public announcement.

Forgiveness can exist in silence. It can be found in avoidance. You have no obligation to tell the person who wronged you that you have found peace.


Forgiveness is … a personal choice.

Forgiveness is a option. One choice of many. You may decide to take that route now. Or maybe it waits until later or later never comes. It’s one of the few things you can control about what happened to you.

Forgiveness is not … a requirement.

You do not have to forgive. Many never do and find another way to continue on. Shrug off the “shoulds” and listen to what you want for you.


Forgiveness is … transforming the future.

Forgiveness is not … changing the past.

Forgiveness is a gift to yourself rather than an offering to your assailant.

And it’s a gift you have to procure for yourself.

Want to forgive and not sure how? Read Forgiveness 101. 

Want another perspective? Read When You Shouldn’t Forgive.

When the Affair is the Beginning

affair

An affair is not an uncommon start to a new relationship. What begins as an illicit dalliance becomes legitimized as marriages are ended and secrets are brought into the open. Affairs bring out strong emotions. For those (like myself) who have been betrayed, we are angry and devastated. For those experiencing the intensity of forbidden lust or love, they may feel the excitement of the newness, the guilt of the deception and the fear of being caught.

But sometimes it’s best to step back from the emotion and cast a rational eye on a situation. What really are the chances of a relationship that starts with an affair going the distance? What are some of the particular challenges that face relationships that begin with infidelity? So let’s set the emotion aside for a moment and examine issues that occur when an affair is the beginning:

Togetherness Negotiation is Delayed

One of the trickiest areas for a relationship to navigate is the expectations for the amount of time the couple will spend together and the amount of time that will be spent apart. In infidelity, like with a long-distance relationship, this negotiation is delayed due to external pressures limiting the time spent together. As a result, although the affair may have continued for some time, there may be incompatibility in this basic area.

An Unrealistic Picture of Sexual Chemistry is Developed

There is a connection between fear, novelty and sexual excitement. Affairs are risky, a new partner is unfamiliar and  the result can be sexually explosive. But when the newness is gone and the excitement has faded? You may find that the reason that your paramour isn’t really the reason for your newfound sexual awakening.

It’s Difficult to Trust a Liar

If your partner is married, you enter into the relationship knowing that he or she is able to maintain a life of deception. If you’re cheating, your lover knows the same about you. That’s a heavy load to carry. Building trust is always difficult and it becomes an even greater struggle when you know they are not always honest. After all, if he or she will cheat with you, who is to say they won’t cheat on you?

Lack of Support From Friends and Family

Recent research suggests that the strongest marriages begin with an inexpensive wedding filled with lots of guests. That’s because the community around the relationship helps to buttress the marriage, providing additional strength and support. But when the relationship is one born from infidelity, the support will be later and most likely, lesser.

The Relationship Timeline is Influenced by Outside Forces

The affair is artificially kept in the infancy of a relationship, unable to fully mature due to the limitations of secrecy. It may move too slowly at times only to be artificially accelerated when circumstances allow. Forward progress may be delayed while one or both partners attempt to extricate themselves from their marriage. The affair does not have the freedom to evolve on its own timeline; it is squeezed by the pressures which surround it.

Energy is Divided

It takes energy to build a new relationship. Lots of energy. And when some of that attention is still turned to a marriage, it leaves the new relationship starved for care and primed for the pursuer-distancer dance. When the affair partner is present, he or she is primary. Yet, due to the presence of another family, out of sight is often out of mind. And it’s difficult to build a future with someone who is still entrenched in their past.

 

It’s not impossible for a long-term, happy relationship to emerge from infidelity.

But it’s also not easy.

 

No relationship is a fairy tale.

No partner is perfect.

Every romance takes effort.

And running away doesn’t solve anything.

After all, the grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s greener where you water it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marital Debt Should Not Convey

I entered my current relationship with plenty of debt – both literal and figurative. When Brock and I first started dating, I was seriously limited by the financial repercussions of the divorce and was still hamstrung by the emotional fallout. It was impossible for those encumbrances to have no effect on my new relationship: I wasn’t able to contribute as much money towards dates and activities as I would have liked and I was still working through the impact of betrayal and abandonment.

Even though it impacted him, at no point did either one of us assign him the liability for the outstanding tab.

Because marital debt should not convey.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.

On the money front, it has been difficult at times when Brock and I have different financial standpoints. Until just two months ago, almost a fifth of every one of my paychecks went to my ex’s debt. And that was on top of everything I had already paid (literally a third of my pre-tax income in the last five years). I would get frustrated sometimes, not that Brock had more leeway with money, but that I was still so limited.

There were times those frustrations would come out, my anger towards my ex mixing with my irritation at not being able to afford something I needed with a dash of fear about my financial future. And he’s always been awesome – giving me money to buy clothes last winter, never making me feel guilty about not paying my full share on trips or dinners (or being able to cosign on the house) and always letting me know that he has my back.

But the reality is that the martial debt was mine to pay. My burden. My responsibility. And now, it’s my job to work to build up my savings and my credit.

Because marital debt should not convey.

In some ways, the financial debt is easier to work with. It’s clear what it is and where it comes from. Whereas the emotional encumbrance? Yeah, not so easy to catch.

I was really careful with one area of emotional debt. I knew I was sensitive to infidelity and lies. It would have been very easy for me to enter in to a new relationship and punish my new partner for the sins of the old – questioning every phone call, peeking at every text, growing suspicious at every night away for business. But all that is going to do is drive away the new partner. My sensitivities and insecurities were my problem to address. Not his.

Other debts were not so clear. I can easily (over)respond because some past situation is triggered. Don’t believe me? Read this. It’s embarrassing to me now after this has been the outcome. At times like those, I have a more difficult time not shifting the debt; I’m flooded and scared and the line between past and present sometimes becomes blurry.

And in those moments, Brock can definitely help. He helps me feel safe while also letting me know that I’m not being fair to him. He can help me heal but ultimately, the work is mine to do.

Because marital debt should not convey.

If you start a new relationship burdened by the debris of the old, you are weighing it down before it ever has a chance to grow. Instead of placing the weight of your former marriage on the shoulders of your new partner, do the work yourself of breaking through the burden until it no longer has to be shouldered by anyone.

Because marital debt should not convey.

Unless of course, you want a repeat of the end of the first marriage.

 

 

Just Because It Happened To You, Does Not Mean It Happened Because of You

rejection

Rejection always hurts.

From the lack of an invite to a classmate’s party to the failure of a job offer, we feel the pain of being dismissed.

And when that rejection slip comes from our partner?

Let’s just say the pain is searing. Unescapable.

fMRI results have shown that the agony of rejection follows the same neural pathways as physical pain.  It is real. And it can be devastating.

We all have an innate drive to want to be accepted. To be recognized and wanted. As social creatures, we have evolved to need the group and to fear being ostracized.

The worst feeling in the world is not to be seen and hated. It is to be invisible and discarded.

When rejection from relative strangers occurs, we often rationalize the reasons:

“I wasn’t invited to the party because she is a stuck-up snob.”

“They didn’t accept my proposal because they’re short-sighted morons.”

“He didn’t call me back because he lost my number.”

“I was passed over for the job because I am over-qualified.”

It’s easy to perform this ego-preserving mental choreography when we do not intimately know the rejector and the rejector does not fully know us. We can depersonalize the experience, shifting the reasons for the refusal to the other person while protecting our own sense of self and worth.

photo 1-68

But when the rejection comes from the one that knows you best?

The one that promised he or she would always be there?

The one with whom you felt safe exposing your deepest fears and greatest vulnerabilities?

It’s personal.

I felt like I was discarded like so much garbage. No longer able to provide utility or beauty. Lacking in key features as I was replaced with a newer model. I trusted this man, had valued his opinions for years. So when he indicated I wasn’t enough, it was easy to believe him.

I think my desperate quest to label him was not only coming from a need to understand why, but also from a need to prove that his judgement was somehow faulty. That I was rejected because of something in him rather than something in me.

It’s so difficult not to internalize intimate rejection.

We all too easily assume that because it happened to us, it must have happened because of us. Sometimes we’re just collateral damage.

We take rejection by our partners personally.

He or she turns down a proposal of sex? It must because of the five extra pounds you’re carrying.

He or she is withdrawn? You must have said or done something to make him or her angry.

He or she requests time alone? It must be because you’re not wanted.

Yet much of the time, what we perceive as a personal attack has more to do with our partners than ourselves.

Perhaps sex was refused because of pressures at work.

Maybe the withdrawing was due to a sense of being overwhelmed.

And the alone time may just be a need to breathe.

Don’t let one person determine your value.

One of the biggest problems of internalizing rejection within a relationship is that it lays the groundwork for the marriage-destroying pursuer-distancer dance. The more the rejected partner feels abandoned, the more he or she desperately pursues attention and affection. The more the distancer feels hounded, the more he or she retreats and withdraws.

It’s a common pattern. And often a deadly one, slowly starving the marriage of trust and intimacy. If you feel rejected, it’s easy to respond with a frantic attempt to be wanted. 

And when the rejection comes at the end of a marriage?

It’s all too easy to respond the same way. Looking for worth and validation from anyone that will provide it. And holding on too tightly will suffocate any relationship.

Your worth can only come from within. And no rejection can ever take that away.

Rejection is about opinion, not fact.

When someone we love suddenly makes claims that we are substandard, we often believe them. Take their assertions as facts. Truth.

When they are actually opinion.

Opinion that may easily be influenced by other factors.

When I first read the suicide note that my ex sent to his other wife and my mother, I felt worthless. He spent full paragraphs discussing how impossible I was followed  by more paragraphs singing the other wife’s praises.

Of course he did. By demonizing me, he justified his actions. By discounting me, he secured his own value. And by praising her, he stood a chance of winning her back.

I was rejected because he could not continue to hide the truth.

I was rejected because he needed an escape.

I was rejected because he convinced himself that I had already rejected him.

I was rejected because of his opinions. And I no longer care what he thinks.

It’s a delicate ego dance learning to sift through the facts of the rejection to see if there is some truth to be learned.

Cheaters and deceivers often try to place the burden of the blame for their actions at the feet of their spouse. They act out of selfishness and greed and then claim that “you made me do it.” Yet nobody ever makes anyone else do something. Their choices are theirs alone.

Still, sometimes there is a bigger picture. Nothing you did or didn’t do make your partner act a certain way. But that doesn’t mean you have nothing to learn.

There is a difference between taking the blame for someone else’s actions and accepting responsibility for your own.

One man’s trash is another person’s treasure.

Just because one person took you out to the curb, doesn’t mean you have to stay there.

Reject their opinion of you and form your own.

Someone will see you for the treasure you are.

Tells – The Truth Always Finds a Way Out

Last night, we watched the movie Rounders, a drama where Matt Damon and Edward Norton portray high-stakes poker players. It was intriguing to disappear into that risky and shadowy world from the mundane security of the couch. My pulse was racing enough just watching someone lose $25,000 in a matter of seconds; I certainly didn’t feel a need to experience it myself.

I know very little about the mechanics of poker, but I do know a few things about psychology. And, as you may know, poker is often more about what the players think you have in your hand rather than the actual cards you hold. The winner is often the person who can see through others’ misdirections while projecting his or her illusion seamlessly.

I think my ex would have made a very good poker player.

For all I know, maybe he was. Perhaps that’s what happened to the money. But even if he never touched a deck of cards, he was still approaching life like a game. He was attracted to risks. He seemed to enjoy being able to manipulate people with his stories and actions. He had an amazing ability to read people and steer them in the direction he wanted.

And, like many poker players, he was almost brought down by his tell.

In the game, a “tell” is a subconscious sign that reveals when a player is stressed or bluffing. It can be a certain eye movement, a twitching of a finger or, as in the case of the movie, even reaching for an Oreo. Players work to restrain or hide their tells.

Because the truth is fighting to come out.

My ex met his other wife at a bar in a Vegas hotel, where they were both staying for work. According to her, they stayed up late that first night, flirting and drinking in the public spaces. He was wooing her with fabrications, telling stories of a manufactured persona woven from the lives of our friends. I guess at some point, the stress of the lies grew too great because he passed out cold on the casino floor.

Interestingly, in his statement to the police months later, he claimed that at that moment, he lost “conscienceness,” misplacing his ability to tell right from wrong. It was the only truth he wrote upon that paper.

The paramedics were called and his vitals taken. His blood pressure was as inflated as his lies.

Because the truth was fighting to come out.

For the last several months of our marriage, he visited doctor upon doctor trying to reign in his ever-soaring hypertension. No pill was strong enough; the pressure kept mounting.

Along with the lies.

The doctors declared his problem was idiopathic, arising from unknown origins. What they failed to realize is that the cause was buried in his psychology rather than his physiology. They were looking in the wrong place.

If I known I was married to a poker player, perhaps I would have recognized his hypertension for what it was. A tell.

Because the truth always finds a way out.

 

Side note – When I saw him a couple years ago, one of the only things I was curious about was his blood pressure. I figured it would be a clue as to the kind of life he was living.