Forgiveness starts from within

If my marriage was a time of self recriminations, my widowhood has been a lesson in self-forgiveness. 

During my marriage to My Favourite Husband (MFH), I often found myself lacking in comparison to other women. An unworthy body, especially when compared to women decades younger than me. A lined face, wrinkles burrowing in — laugh lines I called them to ease my discomfort at their appearance. A boring personality. It was a long list and I had many line items to choose from in terms of beating myself up. MFH vehemently disagreed but he was powerless to change the course of it. 

I cannot tell you how much I wish I could turn the clock hands back, scoop up the wasted time and hurtful words, and accept myself as he accepted me.

But acceptance and forgiveness didn’t come until I started writing this chapter of my life; life as a widow, life on my own. I still, at times, veer towards cutting  comments about myself but I’ve learned that in addition to being unproductive, unnecessary and simply unkind, I no longer care to look at myself in a way that is derogatory. Age? Perhaps. That, I suspect, and I’ve given up trying to be anyone other than who I am. With a shrug of my shoulders, I’ve learned to dismiss the negative remarks that come from the only person who matters — me. 

Along with the cease and desist order for self-flagellation comes a desire for self-forgiveness. Forgiveness of others? Absolutely. But forgiveness of myself, equally important. And sometimes, if I’m lucky, a round of forgiveness for all involved 

There’s myriad emotions that come with death, grieving and deciding to create a life in a forward motion. For me, two that held me captive were anger and regret. Anger at MFH for dying. Well, for dying first. I had tried to extract a promise from him that I could die first because I didn’t want to do life on my own. He wouldn’t commit to the promise, claiming his illness meant that his life expectancy would be shorter than mine. My emotional heart refused to accept what my logical mind knew: he was right. His death brought the heat of anger and it simmered in my veins for a long time before I came to a place of forgiveness. The truth was he didn’t want to die and had fought to live. And though I had the right to feel anger at his passing I didn’t have the right to carry that anger for a long time. Being angry diminished what we had. Being angry tarnished his memory. And so, with time and self reflection, I forgave him for dying and I forgave myself for being angry. Doing so cleared my clouded mind and my bitter heart and our new relationship — the one where I do all the talking while he swings his legs off of a cloud and rolls his eyes — is gentle and loving.

Separate but still tangled together with anger was regret. I blamed myself for not being with him the night he died. I blamed myself for my silent, swallowed resentment from the additional pressures I took on in a caregiver role. I regretted the times we fought, the harsh words that found their way out of our throats and into the air between us. I regretted that our attempts to have a family weren’t successful. Too many regrets. Blame? No, not really. But sorrows. And so, with the time being right, I’ve twice gathered up those regrets and tossed them into the sea. The waves engulfed them and pulled them down, down to the bottom. And, in return, it churned up forgiveness. Forgiveness in the form of releasing regrets and remembering with love. Gratitude for what we had, gratefulness with no conditions.

In the four years I’ve been learning about myself, growing in my gifts, I’ve made peace with myself and others. I’ve accepted what I cannot change. I’m doing my best to not berate myself for standing up for what I want, for not apologizing for my boundaries. And I’m trusting my instincts to guide me. It is a constantly evolving thing, the trust, the boundaries, the forgiveness. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. But it’s OK.

I’ve had two situations recently where forgiveness for myself was hard. The first was with my friend who desires an online friendship only. I was angry with them for not committing to an in- person date and angry with myself for pushing for a commitment. I’ve written about this in a recent post but the bottom line is this: I forgave both of us. I forgave them — not that they apologized or asked for forgiveness — but I forgave them for not wanting the same kind of friendship I wanted. More importantly, I forgave myself for asking to connect in person. I had retreated to a place where I berated myself for doing so, berated myself for wanting what I wanted. But, you see, I’m allowed to want what I wanted, just as my friend is allowed to want what they wanted. And once I forgave them for wanting something different, it freed me to forgive myself for standing up for what I wanted. Guilt, for me, comes quickly and leaves without haste. But I shouldn’t feel guilty for advocating for what I want. Even if I don’t get it. And so I did. I forgave myself, released my expectations and agreed to the unspoken but action proven relationship my friend desired. And when I forgave both us, I also accepted and made peace with what we have. And it’s truly a beautiful way to move forward.

Another powerful situation that recently occurred was with a man I had a brief mixed signal situationship with. His words and actions didn’t match and it caused me confusion. In my confusion, I acted and reacted in ways that I wouldn’t two years later. About a year ago, I lashed out at him when he reached out for my advice on writing a blog. It wasn’t the request for help that made me upset; rather, the fact that I had sent him a link to mine at the start of us seeing each other and his admission he’d never read a blog. That followed up with a promised phone call and I had run out of patience. 

Prior to that, two years ago, our situationship ended with me acting very foolishly and him not wanting to address the situation. So, foolish two years ago and then anger last year. I’ve carried the anger and resentment towards him for too long. Not that I don’t feel justified in it but, rather, that’s not who I am any longer. I’ve done a lot of hard work. I’m continuing to do a lot of hard work. All of it on myself. And a year after unkind words were exchanged in writing, I find I no longer have a desire to have that negativity live in my mind. News of a health concern of his as well as the passing of his mom has us connecting in messages. And the connection felt good. It felt powerful because it was releasing. With that release, I forgave myself for being unkind. That’s not who I am, especially now. I’ve grown too much to let a situation that’s dissolved have any lingering emotional attachment. I forgave him for any real or perceived sins I thought he committed. I did not tell him I forgave him because I’m not sure that was something he’s looking for. But I freed both of us, in my mind only, from the harsh space I had placed us in, frozen in a time of unkindness.

There have been a few more brief exchanges in writing and an unplanned in-person meeting. Conversation was polite. An olive branch extended by him to attend a party he is hosting. 

Will I go? No. Part of forgiving and releasing for me is acknowledging that I’m not the person I was, his circle of friends is not my circle and I have neither a place in his life nor he in mine. I was never looking to reconnect but the peace and kindness that wash over me when he crosses my mind is a relief. And it all started with forgiving myself.

These, for me, are huge lessons to learn. I can be a tough taskmaster on myself but I also need to be a kind and forgiving figure in my own life. The power in self-forgiveness is beyond anything that anyone else can grant. It is beautiful. It is loving. It makes life sweeter. I am worthy.