Forgiveness

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, SMYTHE RETURNED TO HER WRITING. The trial loomed ahead, and she felt an urgency to complete as much of her writing as she could so she could devote whatever energy was required for her participation in court. What seemed to surprise Smythe the most since her return from the conference was a shift in her emotional relationship with her mother. She found she wanted to spend more time with her than usual. When she needed a break from the monotony of her everyday tasks, she would ask to visit her. She reflected on this new behavior and recognized she no longer held the energy that had emotionally separated her from her mother.

But, for Artie, the increased visits to Smythe’s mother alarmed her. She secretly feared her mother would erode the emerging self-confidence that Smythe now demonstrated, but Artie granted her requests without ever voicing the concern.

One morning, while lying in bed with Artie, Smythe decided to broach the subject of her visitations, sensing the negative vibes from the other side of the mattress.

“Honey, can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“First, I need you to know that I fear what I am about to say may change our relationship, yet I love you enough to want to discuss this.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve watched and been very accommodating in allowing me to visit my mom more than usual over the past couple of weeks. To be honest, those visits were, in many ways, an unconscious decision that I made. It felt as if somehow, something deep down inside of me needed to see her. I wasn’t thinking about it; I just did it. What was weird was I always walked away from our visits feeling better. At first, I surmised that I was just doing my daughterly duty. But yesterday, I had an epiphany of sorts. So much shifted for me once I told my story to you, and then when I shared with my cohort training group, another layer unraveled. I don’t know a whole lot about what has been happening, but what I do know is that I no longer hold fear in my body anymore. No more angst. It’s rather shocking, really.”

“How so?” Artie asked.

“Well, for one, I didn’t know I held that much negative energy inside of me until it went away. Once I told my story out loud in front of all those people… something just… shifted. It happened almost immediately. I felt a release of pent-up emotion, and something similar to dark energy simply dissipated.”

Smythe took in a breath and let it out slowly, feeling the freedom that came from the deep work she had been doing, including the acceptance of her abuse.

“There has to be a certain level of trust with this group. Actually, a lot of trust has to be fostered within the group to be that kind of vulnerable. That said, I experienced what it was like to tell my story and be truly heard. Now I understand how stories connect us to one another. The ability to be vulnerable to others has a healing effect not only for the person telling the story, but for those who hear them.

“I remember when I first told you. I felt better, but it was only you that I told. I felt like we shared this secret that was great. And you held it so beautifully. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I felt as if you had given me this gift of not only acceptance but a different perspective. It didn’t ever occur to me that I wasn’t mentally ill. Artie, that was such a gift of revelation.

“Then, I had the chance to sit in that conference room. We all had an opportunity to share whatever was on our heart, and to share deeply. There was such a jagged calm that washed over me. Eventually, I settled into a deepening sea of peace. Afterward, as you witnessed, so many people came up and shared their stories with me. It was both heartbreaking and life-affirming. I didn’t feel alone anymore, and I don’t think they did either. And honestly, I think it drew us closer to one another, Artie.

“I say all of that because, in releasing that negative energy, I found myself living from a place of compassion for others, which includes both my mother and my father. I could suddenly imagine their own lives, childhood trauma, limiting beliefs, and the challenges they faced, especially living in a racist society. Out of that compassion, I could finally forgive. I mean, I thought I already had, but this was a deeper level of forgiveness.

“I can only surmise I have unconsciously been drawn to want to spend more time with my mom. There have been times I’ve needed to feel a sense of protection from her. I guess what I really needed was the emotional protection of a parent. Being in her presence gave me that. I realized that as a kid, emotional protection was what I had always wanted and needed but didn’t get. It has been comforting that I can now allow myself to feel that from her. She has been so worried about how well my new business is progressing. I can now accept her words of concern as love without all of the chattering negative thoughts that were buzzing about in my head. I just thought you should hear why I’ve spent just a tad more time with her. It was mostly unconscious until yesterday.”

“That’s pretty powerful, baby. I must confess, I was annoyed when you asked to spend an unscheduled afternoon with her. In part, I was worried she would somehow snuff the life out of you. I now realize I hadn’t given you enough credit to work out your own emotional wellbeing.” She slowly sat up, still nursing an ache from her bruised ribs.

“I’m sorry for doubting you, and I’m grateful that you shared your epiphany with me. It makes perfect sense. I’ll stand down from my own angst about your visits.”

Smythe looked into Artie’s eyes.

“I could tell there was an energy that you were holding about the visits. I could have told myself all kinds of stories about it. I could have just brushed it off, but then along with the epiphany came the realization that I was brushing aside your feelings, and that wasn’t fair. Even if I didn’t know why I felt a ‘want’ to go and visit instead of an obligation, you deserve for me to at least acknowledge that I felt your energy. After all, why wouldn’t you have feelings around visitations with her? In some ways, you have a stake in the outcome.”

“Thank you for the conversation, baby. My only stake in the visitations is your wellbeing, and that, my love, is really in your hands. I’m… let’s just say I’m an interested bystander.”