forgiveness

I'm definitely reluctant to write about the positive aspects of forgiveness and I've been trying to understand why. It probably has a lot to do with the way forgiveness is brandished at hurting people, sometimes maliciously, but often by well-intentioned, though somewhat prescriptive individuals.

Also, my practice of forgiveness is just that, my practice. It is simply the way that works for me in this current moment and it may bear no resemblance to what someone else needs to be doing right now.

I have had to balance decades of premature forgiving, mostly out of fear of the consequences of not forgiving, with a newly discovered freedom to be angry about injustice and boundary violations. For years I lived as if those two things were mutually exclusive, now I'm working out a more nuanced approach.

I'm in a place where I'm holding hurt, that complex entanglement of anger and sadness, and allowing it to teach me about healthy patterns of relating to myself and others. At the same time, I'm nurturing forgiveness toward those who have wronged me, because it's something I want to do. I'm not afraid anymore, of the consequences of unforgiveness. Those dire warnings I heard as a child about being riddled with bitterness, or ill health, or worse if I didn't immediately forgive, are losing their stranglehold.

There are, undoubtedly benefits to forgiving others. Studies have shown that genuine forgiveness, can bring improvements to mental and physical health*. But anger and sadness may also serve a useful purpose. These emotions teach us where it might be wise for our boundaries to begin and end. They teach us about our values, how we want to treat others and how we need to be treated. In this context, I am more able to truly forgive, instead of rushing through the process as a sacrificial offering to a God who will punish me if I don't follow the right steps.

I've often been told that God can't begin healing a person who hasn't forgiven. I no longer believe that to be true. In fact, I think we discredit God's wisdom and character when we make such statements. But without the baggage of those old beliefs I am now free to choose. Forgiveness or unforgiveness. For me, this is the only place where forgiveness can be genuine anyway.



* E.L. Worthington Jr & S.J. Sandage ~ Forgiveness and Spirituality in Psychotherapy: A Relational Approach.

Ostracism

I haven't had time to write for a while, thanks to a combination of family events, a research proposal and of course, an impending Christmas. Someone asked about a month ago if Christmas was a difficult time of year and I breezily replied that it was usually a very pleasant time for me, which is true. 

What I hadn't factored in though, was the build up. One lovely friend, assuming I was invited, mentioned sharing a pre-Christmas meal together. Momentary confusion gave way to that familiar lurch in my stomach. Oh, that Christmas meal. The one my oldest friends arrange. The tradition that ensures we all spend time together even when life gets busy.

The one I'm not invited to this year.

Another lady was evasive about a gathering she was having. Gradually I realised that the group she had invited was made up of many of my old friends. A group of ladies who care for, love and support each other.

But I'm not invited this year.

The reasons are probably complex. I know these people are not setting out to hurt me. They are getting on with their lives and may believe that I have brought the exclusion upon myself. 

But it breaks my heart.

I've found myself googling ostracism, social exclusion, anything to find something, someone who's written about this kind of experience. Mostly what I've found is about a more extreme form of shunning - that awful act of pretending that a person has ceased to exist.

Instead, my friends will always smile in my direction, as a demonstration of their continued pleasantness towards me. My friends will tell me that they love me, whilst simultaneously informing me that they don't believe my version of events. My friends write letters expressing willingness to receive me back into the fold, so long as I fully acknowledge the things I have done wrong. My friends refuse to tell me what those wrong things are, because 'you know what they are'. My friends do not believe that the leader of my previous church is capable of bullying. Wonderful, loving people that they are, and they truly are, my friends will not walk alongside me if I continue to express my pain and make such claims.  

In that upside down world, it appears I have chosen my own ostracism.

So I'm writing this because I know I'm not the only one. Ostracism attacks and undermines some basic human needs, particularly the need to belong. I'm starting to find my sense of belonging in healthier places, but I'm deeply grieving for those lost places of belonging too. I'm hoping that by writing about it, I will not only help myself, but will also provide a glimmer of hope for someone else who has lost their place of belonging. If you find yourself in some upside down world where it seems you've chosen your own ostracism even though it's breaking your heart, you're not the only one. I'm here too.  

premature forgiveness

My previous post examined some frankly revolting approaches to the subject of forgiveness and whilst I did hint at a more positive angle (which I will write about eventually) I think it's really important to focus on the risks first.

Researching for an assignment last year, I discovered several articles which highlighted the very real dangers of 'premature forgiveness', a term previously unknown to me, in spite of having listened to many forgiveness sermons during my 40 years.

As I read, it was as if someone had prised open a clunky old door in my head, leaving me stunned on the threshold, blinking in unfamiliar light.

It has been repeatedly emphasized that Christians are particularly prone to forgiving too quickly due to the following reasons: The weight forgiveness is given in the Christian tradition, the awareness of its healing power, plus a lack of knowledge about its inherent psychological requirements.

Although executed with best intentions, the process may not be completed and thus, instead of the growth-enhancing transformation, the victim may be faced with lower self-esteem, damaged self-respect and a raised level of anxiety around offence and offender (Holmgren, 2002; Puka, 2002). There is nothing liberating for the victim in premature forgiveness except for the superficial restoration of peace. Creating awareness about its danger as well as elucidating the preconditions of genuine forgiveness seems therefore to be of some urgency within these religious settings.*

In that moment, those words were life to me. Those times I'd been pressured into announcing "I forgive you" weren't healthy and whilst it hadn't helped me recover, everyone seemed convinced it was the only way. 'Lower self-esteem, damaged self respect and a raised level of anxiety around offence and offender'. I could tick all of those boxes, with anxiety levels beyond bearable, and if these words were true, then it wasn't because of some flaw or hypersensitivity in me, it was because a process which was meant to take place over a long time, was being shoehorned into a couple of hours, for the convenience of everyone except me.

Premature forgiveness is dangerous and causes genuine psychological harm.

Moreover, Glaeser's article continued, 

If the offender is interested in the victim’s well being, he/she will seek to avoid anything that could lead to premature forgiveness and further harm. 

I could almost laugh. Nothing about my interactions with the leader of my previous church suggested that he would do anything other than hold up 'forgiveness and move on' as the only way forward. Any requests for time and space were met with disapproval and messages requesting we stepped down from church activities 'due to the current situation'.

I feel sad that the church of all places has become known for it's dangerous approach to forgiveness. I hope and pray that we can learn a better way.


* Glaeser, M. (2008) What does it take to let go? An investigation into the facilitating and obstructing factors of forgiveness – the therapist’s perspective. In Counselling Psychology Quarterly Vol 21 (4) pp 337-348

forgiveness criteria

One of the quickest ways to launch my blood pressure skyward is to adopt a stance on forgiveness that looks something like this:-

• You have to forgive your abuser otherwise you are liable to experience all kinds of problems arising from this lack of forgiveness. These problems could range from chronic or terminal illness, to financial ruin and disaster. Henceforth anything negative in your life might result from your lack of forgiveness.

or:

• You will know when you have forgiven someone because you will feel at peace. You will no longer experience anger, sadness or anxiety as a result of their behaviour because the act of forgiveness will bring you healing from all negative effects. Conversely, if you are still experiencing anger, sadness or anxiety, then this can be taken as proof that you haven't forgiven properly or fully and is therefore your fault.(Living Liminal writes eloquently about this here)

or: 

• If you have truly forgiven then you will be reconciled with your abuser and you will no longer need to refer to those past events. You will henceforth be able to relate to him/her as if nothing bad has ever happened between you. Any difficulty relating to him/her may again provide evidence of your forgiveness defecit.

or:

• A gruesomely manipulative cocktail of all the above. 

Honestly, I'm feeling stressed just writing those statements!

Partly because I have heard versions of these beliefs from unexpected sources. Otherwise intelligent people appear to exchange their thoughtful, compassionate selves for religious rigidity when it comes to forgiveness. It wouldn't be so bad if that rigidity wasn't itself manipulate and abusive, another heavy load for a wounded heart to carry.  

And partly because I know that these words, in various formats are being uttered by Christians to hurting abused people around the world. People longing for safety and refuge are being told that unless they fulfill certain forgiveness criteria then God is either unable or unwilling to facilitate their healing and restoration.

And whilst forgiveness remains a part of my spiritual practice (I will be writing more on this topic), I refuse to agree with the forgiveness criteria. That baggage is not mine, or yours to carry. 

forgiveness can wait

I wanted to take the time this weekend to write something about forgiveness but it's not going to happen just yet.

The reason? Well, I saw a few people today at my son's school fair. People from my old church who used to be close, who I would turn to in times of crisis. People who trusted me in return. I walk past one couple and it's as if we've never met. My heart rate rises as we approach. How should I act? Should I smile or say "Hi" or would that make it worse? At one point I brave a look, determined to smile and be friendly but their faces were turned the other way....I can't tell if it was deliberate or not. I don't imagine they are feeling any better about it than I am.

Another couple are more approachable. Our friendship spans over two decades. We used to share everything....except my belief that I was bullied by the church leader, they have told me they see that one differently. Recently they became assistant campus pastors in my previous church, a position that wouldn't be given to anyone questioning the senior leaders. I find it much harder with them. We are polite, avoiding the gargantuan elephant wedged between us. After a few minutes I feel the familiar weight of grief mingling with fear and confusion. Any longer and my emotions will flashback to those last days in my previous church. I might burst into tears or beg them to understand me, which they can't...or won't. Hurriedly I excuse myself and slip away.

So now I'm home. I'm OK, but my brain is skittering from one experience to another. My emotions are tangled, unfathomable and my body is a little more alert than it needs to be. I recognise the mild symptoms of post traumatic stress and I know that within a few days, possibly even tomorrow, I will feel 'normal' again and it will be difficult to imagine this jumbled and spiky experience.

I won't be writing anything profound about forgiveness today, forgiveness can wait. Ironically that was the point I was going to make anyway.

saying sorry

Reading the same textbook* I referenced in my previous post I experienced another 'aha' moment. This time adult women were describing childhood memories of being made to say sorry. The researchers observed some common patterns, whereby an apology was deemed necessary by adults 'in order to restore power relations within the household' whether or not the child had actually done anything wrong.

The researchers also noted:-

...all the memories positioned the protagonists as being responsible for other people's well-being. By being made to apologise the girls were taught to accept responsibility for the effects that their actions had on others, even when these were unintended. Crawford et al (1992) proposed that this purpose is gendered, in that adult women tend to feel responsible for other people's emotional well-being even when they have no power to control it.

Now this is a tricky area. If I say something, intending to be helpful, and it turns out to be insensitive or hurtful to the recipient then I may still wish to apologise if that recipient brings it to my attention. It may also follow that I will feel some distress at having caused pain to another, albeit unintentionally. What I would not then expect however, is that same recipient to apologise to me for the sadness caused by bringing it to my attention (unless they had used violent or unduly aggressive means of course but that would be a different issue) They haven't done anything wrong. In fact it may have taken great courage to bring it to my attention, even more so if I hold any position of power or influence in that recipient's life.

And yet, this was my experience in church. When I raised the difficulty I was experiencing due to the behaviour of the leader he immediately turned the focus upon the pain he was feeling as a result of my 'accusations'. Others came to me, telling me how hurt he was, how disrespectful I was being. His daughter-in-law told me how upsetting it had been for her to even consider whether he was abusive or not. 

If I had repented and retracted my words as I had in the past, then I am sure that I would have been welcomed back into the fold, with regular reminders of my bad behaviour and the distress I had caused. 'Power relations within the household' would have been restored with me in the subordinate position. There were in fact times that I did express sorrow over how difficult the situation was for him. But eventually I realised that I wasn't responsible for his emotions, I was responsible for mine and my emotions were in need of safety, understanding and comfort which couldn't be found in that environment. Heartbroken, but taking responsibility for myself I chose to seek out healing and grace and I don't regret that choice at all.



* Introducing Qualitative Research in Psychology. 3rd ed. C. Willig (2013)

competing narratives

In a textbook* today I read the story of Beth. She had a turbulent childhood resulting in low self esteem. At the age of 11 she discovered a talent for playing tennis, employing a coach who developed a relationship with her before sexually abusing her in her teens. As an adult she participated in research which involved life history interviews. The researchers concluded that:-

As an adult, Beth struggles with the competing narrative constructions of a romantic love story, which portrays her as an equally responsible and willing participant in the relationship with her coach, and an abuse story, which portrays her as a susceptible minor who does not have moral responsibility for what happened to her....The researchers argue that the lack of narrative resolution means that Beth is likely to relive past experiences as a way of trying to make sense of what happened.

As I read I felt a tug of recognition and then the oh-so-familiar stab of guilt. Competing narratives, yes! I willingly threw myself into all things church, excited by the possibilities the leader appeared to be offering. He didn't force me to give so much of my time, energy and finance, I loved my church I was equally responsible, equally to blame, perhaps more so. But what about the power imbalance? He, the boss, the leader of a growing church, able to fire and hire at will, me, just emerging from 9 years as a stay at home mother, eager for something new yet uncertain about my abilities. What about the position of trust he held as a religious leader, the man 'appointed by God'? Did he not abuse this power and position?

And then the guilt. This woman was sexually abused as a minor, how can I compare my story to hers? How can I compare the church leader with the predatory tennis coach? Never mind that I've read numerous accounts of how devastating spiritual abuse can be, what right do I have to use Beth's heartbreaking history to illustrate my own?

But in spite of these protestations, I remain painfully aware of my own competing stories and my brain frequently relives this portion of my past in an attempt to forge a single coherent narrative. There are times when I think I'm almost there, then a trigger detonates crippling emotional flashbacks and the sense making process begins again. 

I think the kindest approach I can take right now is one of acceptance. To accept that I have been emotionally and spiritually traumatised and that this is part of the healing process. My narratives may need a few more bouts in the ring during the months ahead, but I feel hopeful about the eventual outcome.



* Introducing Qualitative Research in Psychology. 3rd ed. C. Willig (2013).