Forgiveness does not mean access…

Once a month, I dedicate a whole series to answering your questions, responding to your stories and situations, writing about a subject you're interested in, and putting something out there for discussion that needs some airtime. I invite you to email me at liz@thepracticeco.com, or DM me on socials, to ask your question, or tell me your story, so that I can (anonymously) create a piece for you. And not just for you... I've found so much healing and wisdom in hearing the stories and questions and ideas of others. It's helped me name and identify things I haven't had language or structure for; it's helped me find my own way; it's broadened my mind and heart. Real and ordinary life opens us up and offers its wisdom and resonance to us all the time, and it's my privilege and joy to create space for that here.

Question from Debbie: I (like you and your father) have a very complicated relationship with my narcissistic mother. My siblings and I have cut off our relationships with her. (I text her occasionally.) You have mentioned that you have done the same. When I read articles such as today’s [in The Practice Co App] about forgiveness and compassion, I struggle because some of what my mother has done is absolutely not forgivable. How do you manage that?

Dear Debbie,

First up, I want to address the so-called trend emerging, or so it seems, where kids cut off parents, parents cut off kids, and friends cut off friends; where words like 'toxic' and 'narcissistic' are thrown around easily and lightly. It can feel like it's becoming a cool thing to do, to sever ties, create rigid boundaries, and cease all contact.

It's not a cool thing to do.

It's not something that should be done lightly.

It's not a fad or phase.

It's utterly heartbreaking.

The pop culture talk about cutting people off helps no one. Yes, there is a trend where some are taking situations to extremes and are jumping the gun. Self-diagnosing, catastrophising, dramatising, making entitled decisions they haven't thought through... It grieves me that we throw around these ideas and actions and terms as if they are everyday, common practices, like drinking a cup of tea, and going for a walk. We need to keep the heaviness of these things intact and sacred.

I say that to say this: when someone tells me in the way that you have, dear reader, that they've put in place boundaries with a family member, or someone they were enmeshed with, I know from experience that it was not a light and easy call. It wasn't a decision based on optics or trends... saying words like narcissism and toxic don't roll easily off the tongue in situations where it's true... they're too heavy for that, they sit in the stomach and almost feel like they have to be pulled out of the body, through the mouth and into the air.

Disengaging a relationship of any kind is not easy, thrilling, or fun work. There's grief, anger, and uncertainty to it.

When I first ceased all contact with my father, it felt like a death... That relationship and connection is gone, over, never to live again. And yet, he's still there, separate and apart; there was no ceremony, no words, no meal with happy memories covered in tears. Instead, now, all my memories are tainted with truth, stained and pixelated with betrayal.

It's not an easy thing to cease contact with anyone, especially a family member, and I want to validate that for you first and foremost. There is a place for it. I made the choices I did with my father for my own health and well-being. It's been fourteen years, and the decision still stands. I talk about it with my therapist, my partner, and my friends. I check in about it often.

It's a brave and courageous thing you've done, creating boundaries and valuing your health and heart. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise.

Now, listen: there is a difference between access and forgiveness, trust and compassion. They are not synonymous, and one doesn't automatically come with the other.

Growing up in a religious environment where forgiveness grants access - being forgiven by God grants you access to heaven, the sacrifice of Jesus grants you access to God - can make it confusing when it comes to our lives that we're experiencing in real-time.

Listen:

Forgiveness does not grant access.

Forgiveness doesn't make everything OK.

Compassion isn't a cure-all for people's inability to behave in a healthy manner.

Many religions have as a premise of their spiritual framework, forgiveness as access. In fundamental environments, it's used as a manipulative, coercive tool: the only way you can get access to heaven is to be forgiven by God. This solidifies the idea that forgiveness is a doorway, or a hall pass, or a ticket to gain entry.

Forgiveness in the real world, does not equal access. Forgiveness often looks like this: I forgive my father, which means I choose not to white-knuckle onto the pain he gave me. I forgive my father, so I choose to heal from the damage he inflicted on me. I forgive my father, so I choose not to become like him.

The only access forgiveness grants is to your own self-healing.

That does not mean that the pain doesn't rise, that the damage can't be seen in some situations... but when it comes, I release it. I say: 'Yep, that happened.' And I let the feeling move through me and out.

Forgiveness does not let the person off the hook. What it does mean is that I'm not going to let what that person did to me control my behaviour or responses to life in general.

The betrayal can sometimes still affect the way I perceive and process some situations, but when it comes up, I forgive, I release, I let it go.

Compassion and empathy aren't the same things as trust.

I can have compassion for my dad: I know some of the things that have happened to him, I know he had a hard time here and there, and that things weren't fair... I can have empathy and understanding for him, but that doesn't impact whether or not it is safe for me to be around him.

It comes down to safety: You can have compassion, empathy, grace and even forgiveness, but these don't mean that you're safe. Grace, compassion, empathy, and forgiveness are really a reflection of your own healing and values, rather than a conduit of connection with the person who hurt you.

Uniquely, for people who have been in faith communities for any length of time, it can be really difficult to remove the idea of access from forgiveness and compassion. But we must work to deconstruct these damaging ideas of forgiveness and grace to get the pain out of circulation in our lives.

Forgiveness is for you.

Trust is about how you see the world and your life.

Grace is for your wounds.

Compassion is for your movement forward.

Sometimes, ceasing all contact is life-long, and other times, it's seasonal. But the most important thing for you to do in this situation is not to restore contact, but heal, be an excavator of your values, and re-align with your foundational worth. And from there? The possibilities are endless.

Your cut-off ex-loved one will be okay. They will find people in their lives who will love them and help them, and maybe, move them toward healing. But that's not your job.

Okay? You're okay.

REMEMBER: "Forgiveness does not mean access. We can give the other person the gift of forgiveness and ourselves the gift of safety and freedom at the very same time." - Glennon Doyle.

Join me in the App this week - I’m answering more questions about faith and relationships and deconstruction and life and more. I’d love to see you there.

Liz Milani
Instagram: @thepracticeco 

From this week’s series titled "DEAR READER" with a subscription in the App. Hope to see you there.