I was in the middle of a conference on forgiving when a hand shot up. Somewhere between accusatory and curious, the participant asked, “If forgiveness is so good for you, then why is it so hard? Why don’t we just forgive?”
“Great question,” I responded, “because it would seem that if it were good for us, we would jump right in, right? Except that doesn’t seem to be the case in many areas of life. We know we should exercise on a regular basis, but the vast majority of people don’t. We know we should eat healthy foods and avoid unhealthy foods. Except most people don’t. We know we should get a good night’s sleep. Except most people don’t. In other words, just because it is good for us doesn’t mean we automatically do it.”
I went on to explain that there are a couple of reasons why we don’t forgive quickly or easily. And if you want to move to forgiveness, it is often good to understand what is behind the resistance. It is also good to notice when you do it easily. We often fail to notice that.
For example, let’s say that a close friend is clearly in a bad mood, focused on some crisis in their own life. On that day, in a conversation, you share something. Your friend’s response is reactive, harsh, and hurtful. It stings.
At that moment, you walk away angry and hurt (reminder: anger is a secondary emotion to hurt). You stew on it for a bit. Then, in a moment of clarity, you remember your friend’s crisis. You remember your friend was already in a bad mood. Your perspective changes. You realize that your friend’s response had far less to do with you and far more to do with your friend. So, you forgive; you release the hurt fairly quickly, maybe even with a bit more empathy for your friend.
My guess is that you have done this countless times in your life. And it will happen countless times in the future. Living with people means that there are frictions that happen, points where you rub each other a little raw.
In fact, I consider this to be “Everyday Forgiveness” — when we forgive people for those small slights and hurts which proximity causes. You may quickly forgive a spouse who says something thoughtlessly, especially after a bad day. Or you might forgive a friend who forgets an event, given a busy or hectic life. You just let it go, partly because you understand “these things happen,” or because you know about that person’s life circumstances.
Remember, there are already times when you readily forgive because you naturally make a shift, you see things — the other person, the events and circumstances, and perhaps yourself — differently.
The crux of the question is why we don’t forgive when we don’t forgive, since those are the times that stick with us and hold us captive.
There are three central reasons that we struggle to forgive. These reasons are important to identify and understand, so they don’t hold you back in your process. Forgiving is so important that you need to understand what holds you back. One reason we fail to forgive is easy to see, so let’s start there.
Your brain has a primary function: survival. Before anything else — before you build relationships, do great things, and change the world — you have to survive.
Your brain is a survival machine. At least one part of your brain is built specifically for that. It is both the most primitive part of your brain and the quickest to respond.
That was great in a time when mortal danger awaited our ancestors behind every tree, rock, and hill. In order to survive, our ancestor’s brain needed to be on high alert, ready for defensive or evasive action just to avoid being something’s dinner or someone’s captive.
While there are far fewer such threats (notice that I didn’t say there were no threats), your primitive brain still has the survival imprint from millennia ago. And it hijacks the rest of you every day.
Bosses, coworkers, friends, spouses, and family members are unlikely to pose a mortal threat (and if they do, you need to take a very serious look at your world and change it). Yet, our brains go on defensive, protective, survival mode with little provocation.
This threat assessment is not a logical or sensible assessment. It is often automatic and instinctual. And while it would be useful if your survival brain would do some post-threat assessment (“Was that tone of voice, facial expression, or body language a threat? Nope. So I won’t react that way next time”), the brain launches into threat-mode the very next time.
Every slight risk of threat puts this part of your brain on alert. And this primitive part of your brain then puts the rest of you on alert. You might get used to it, but you still react. A boss’s upset yelling? Your body gets a hit of adrenaline. A spouse’s cross words? Your body goes into threat mode.
In terms of survival, it is far better if our brain over-responds than if it under-responds. Survival requires being “on guard,” getting out of the way, and remembering the trigger for being “on guard” and getting out of the way. In other words, it is about holding on to the memories of times you feel threatened.
What works for survival, though, can keep you from thriving. Unchecked, that survival brain sees threats everywhere and remembers past threats every time.
I say “unchecked,” because once you know what that part of your brain is doing, you can opt to not be constantly “on guard.” If you know the reason behind why you struggle to forgive, you can accept the protective nature without allowing it to rule.
Just by wiring, this part of the brain remembers and catalogs the threats (and the people your brain views as a threat), automatically reminding the rest of your brain and body when those memories are stirred. When on automatic, it seems safer to not release those memories. This makes us feel like we should not forgive — it just seems to be a threat to survival.
But, it isn’t.
Oh, and just because you choose to forgive does not mean you won’t be aware of the threat. That part of your brain just can’t be shut down. But, it also doesn’t need all that space in your mind. Threats and forgiveness operate on different planes.
Our five-year-old mind still lurks in our head and believes life should be fair. Think back, if you have kids, to their childhood. If you don’t have children, think back in your own life. Remember those episodes of that child stomping a foot and yelling, “This isn’t fair!”
It is a normal developmental stage to believe in fairness. That little belief system lives on in us, even with evidence to the contrary, that life should be fair. So when life doesn’t feel fair, we can have a strong emotional response. We stomp our feet, declare “Life isn’t fair,” and demand fairness.
(Notice that the whole fairness thing for that child is tied to “fair to ME,” and not so much about extending fairness to others. That belief survives into adulthood for many people.)
But life isn’t fair, is it? Some people suffer for little reason, and others profit for little reason. Some struggle with health issues in spite of their efforts, while others are healthy in spite of their poor choices. Some people are born into affluence and privilege, while others are born into poverty and powerlessness. Through no fault or choice of their own. Just the role of the genetic dice.
And beneath this “Life Should Be Fair” belief is a hope that “There Should Always Be Justice” — which is usually based in justice from the point of view of the person holding it. In other words, fairness is also about wanting justice — even if it is a “justice” that matches a personal definition of that word. But justice isn’t always a part of life. Just like life isn’t fair, there are many times when there is no justice — at least from an individual’s perspective.
Sometimes, people refuse to forgive because they are waiting for a return to fairness. They are waiting for the scales to be re-weighted, for things to even out. Then, they could forgive. Which is great, if life were fair, if there were always justice.
Life isn’t fair. And forgiveness does not always include compensation for the hurt. When people wait for fairness or justice, they often end up waiting in misery. Caught in a false belief that serves only to keep you stuck.
Or you can give it up and move forward.
The other day, I was at a conference. At lunchtime, we headed off to eat, and I sat down with a couple of other guys in attendance. As we ordered, one of my colleagues mentioned he was intentionally trying to eat better. Our meal the night before was a bit, well, rich — especially the very decadent chocolate cake at the end. My colleague said he was trying to get back on-track.
Since I try to be intentional about eating healthily, I asked if he was following a particular plan, or if he was just trying to make better choices. He noted a particular popular diet. This led to a discussion about the differences between our food choices (really, not much).
We both ordered the same lunch, both staying true to our eating style. So he chose the lunch because he had a plan, a format. It was fairly easy to look through the menu and eliminate all the things that fell outside the parameters (most things) and choose from the remaining (a few things). Easy. Because he had a template, a plan.
But then we talked exercise. My friend admitted that he was not doing well with that one. He said he would go into his community’s recreation room and was overwhelmed with the equipment. He just did the treadmill for a bit and left. “I wish I knew more,” he told me, “but it just seems too complicated.”
I responded, “I bet I can simplify it in about five minutes. Mind if I try?” He was open to that. So, I gave him a few parameters I used, including using resistance training (weights), not so that he would be in any bodybuilding contests, but so that he would stop any natural muscle loss that happens from the aging process.
Within about ten minutes (it took me longer than I predicted) of conversation, he had an exercise plan that was pretty simple. This new plan, though, allowed him to work his entire body with just a few exercises that hit the major muscle groups. He realized that he could shorten his treadmill time by a few minutes and then hit another piece of equipment, do a few resistance exercises, and have a full workout.
The difference between his eating choices and his exercise habits was less about motivation and more about understanding. He had a plan for one, but was overwhelmed with the other. Given some familial health issues, he was motivated — he just didn’t have the information he needed to have a process.
If you are reading this book, you likely have the motivation. You are unlikely to be reading this book for fun or curiosity. You are likely here because you know you need to forgive (you are motivated) but you don’t know how (you lack a process). In the following chapters, we will solve the issue of process.
Let’s delve into the process. It is not complicated. There are only six steps in the Forgive Process. Some may be a bit of a challenge. But the challenge will be more about mindset than action. And if you find that some steps meld into each other, that’s fine. Remember, this is a process, with less distinction between steps than what I note as I explain the process.
It is kind of like doing two exercises with the same weights in your hand. The weights didn’t change. Only the direction of the resistance and the muscles used.
If you find yourself stuck on one step, go to the next one. With the exception of the first step (you DO need to get through the first step), the other steps will build on each other. Try to follow a linear path. But if one has you stuck, sneak a peek at the next step. Then, return to where you were stuck and see if it has loosened a bit.
Ready?
Let’s get started.