In order for forgiveness to happen, something has to die. If you make a choice to forgive, you have to face into the pain. You simply have to hurt. – Brene Brown
Thirty Days of Forgiveness, as explained by my post on Oct. 27th, is no longer a practice in identifying people to forgive (including myself). It is now a practice in asking and answering these questions:
- What must die in order for me to forgive Them + Me? Expectations? Victimhood? Dreams/demands? Blame? The way it is supposed to be? The need to be right? Awesome stories of how I was wronged? Awesome stories of how I screwed up?
- If to forgive is to love, am I ready to love Them + Me? I mean really, there are some people/things we have no interest in loving—ever! Am I right? You know I’m right. I know I’m right.
- What pain must I face in order for me to forgive Them + Me? I’m sure the first question will fill in that blank easily enough.
- Am I willing to write publicly about it?
What must die?
Goal-setting that is so rigid and uncompromising that it triggers shame or renders a verdict of failure when the tiniest bit of flexibility is required.
Can I forgive?
I’m not a robot. I am thrown curve balls nearly every day. Even with a plan and the best of intentions I’m not going to hit them all. I might even get hit by some of them. Am I supposed to just quit because I don’t nail it perfectly as planned or am I supposed to adjust and keep playing (practicing)? Rules that don’t support the practice in question can become a liability to the practice.
What pain must I face?
I have used a single fall or a falter as an excuse to quit on myself and my goals when I should have adapted and overcome. I willingly shouldered the burden of failure because it was too hard to get back up after the fall. I might have been miserable staying down but that misery was preferable to the work it took to get up, swallow my pride, and get back to work.
Can I own this publicly?