Forgiveness heals bitterness that corrodes the soul
Sometimes we know what ails us mentally, and other times we’re mystified.
In the presence of a clear catalyst — personal loss, emotional trauma, a health crisis — it’s easy to track the trajectory of one’s depression, anxiety or other mood issue. But Liz couldn’t pinpoint the genesis of her agitation and malaise.
“I just feel sour inside, like being emotionally sick to your stomach,” she struggled to explain.
After peppering this middle-aged mom with a boatload of questions, we zeroed in on the smoking gun.
“Maybe it’s because you aren’t practicing forgiveness,” I suggested.
Liz responded pre-verbally with a little head twitch, as if her subconscious mind was confirming my hypothesis. She explained that she had never been adept at letting go of resentment toward those who wronged her. And she had a long list of offenders.
Both prophets and shrinks have taught us that bitterness is an emotional and spiritual hot coal grasped in one’s own fist. It burns away at one’s soul and well-being while usually having far less impact on the target of one’s acrimony.
“I often ruminate about what somebody said or did to me that was unfair and unkind,” she confessed.
Most of us have at least one person we can’t seem to forgive, which is understandable. There are offenses, particularly those driven by intentional malice, that don’t seem to deserve absolution, at least in the absence of a sincere apology and efforts at atonement by the perpetrator.
So, while Liz realized her bitterness was emotionally and spiritually corrosive, she felt incapable of granting pardons. She harbored the common belief that we have only two choices — forgive the person and make peace, or not. But
Both prophets and shrinks have taught us that bitterness is an emotional and spiritual hot coal grasped in one’s own fist.
there is another option.
How so? Forgiving someone comes in two basic forms. First is when we practice forgiveness directly by extending an olive branch to the other party or, when applicable, genuinely accepting his or her apology.
As anyone who has tried this knows, it can be challenging. It’s one thing to let go of rancor toward someone, but another altogether to interact with the offending person in a “kiss and make up” fashion.
“It’s possible to forgive a person indirectly, without their involvement,” I suggested.
If the offending party has no remorse, fails to apologize or is inaccessible (won’t respond, incapacitated, deceased, etc.), that doesn’t prevent us from letting go of that hot coal of resentment. How? Often, some sort of “releasing ritual” proves necessary, one that engages the feeling brain, not just the thinking one.
Liz’s first stab at this involved an estranged relative who had sent her scathing letters crammed with selfrighteous criticism. They hadn’t spoken in years.
In a ritual fashion, she burned the letters, collected the ashes and scattered them in a river at sunset, meditating afterward. The outcome?
“I don’t think about it much anymore,” she reported. “And when I do, it feels more like quiet disappointment than anger. I’m not churning inside.”
As Liz has discovered, without forgiveness there is no peace in this life.
Philip Chard is a psychotherapist, author and trainer. Email Chard at outofmymind@philipchard.com or visit philipchard.com.