I struggle with forgiveness or a lack of forgiveness, depending on how you look at it.
The last time I harbored hatred and nursed unforgiveness, it took me 14 years to get beyond it. Because of that experience, I know the big gulp of freedom that forgiveness brings. In the moment that I hung my hatred on a hook and stopped paying heed to my “right” to unforgiveness, I literally felt walls breaking. The rivers of resolution crashed over me and cleansed me fully. It was easily one of the best days of my entire existence. I long for that again. So, why do I deny myself the rich experience that I had before? Why?
I have already given this person 21 years to get it right. I cannot spare another 14 deciding to forgive the fact that not only did he never get it right but that he got it more wrong than a football stadium of the dregs of society on their worst day.
I ache for apathy where there is anger. I feel wronged, but I don’t want to. I am free from the disappointment and the what-should-have-been’s, but the unforgiveness settles over me, assaults me, tires me.
I desperately want no connection and have none, but the inability to forgive keeps me tied somehow. I long to cut the cord, burn the braid, shake off the shackle. But, I don’t.
If forgiveness is a choice, then why I can’t I just make the choice already? Why do I feel captive to making the choice I don’t want?
Forgiveness of him = Freedom for me. But, I want the freedom without the forgiveness. I want to cheat the process and get what I want on my terms because, truth be known, I feel like I earned it. And therein, lies the problem. It doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t work my way.
And so my struggle goes on until the day it ends. I believe it will. The pain ended, the sorrow ended, the danger ended. Why not the struggle to forgive?
Sure, it will end. Wish it were today.