Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Forgivenes­s heals bitterness that corrodes the soul

- Out of My Mind Philip Chard Milwaukee Journal Sentinel USA TODAY NETWORK – WIS.

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.

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