I woke up this morning contemplating the idea of forgiveness and how one might get close to it, even if what has manifested seems outrageously unforgivable. Even if you are to forgive not for one deed but for a lifetimes' worth of them. Even if you are perfectly aware that those deeds will never be acknowledged and an apology will never be uttered. Can you still forgive, I wonder.
Having had a few years of therapy under my belt, I have experienced first hand the alleviative properties of such an action. Even if the action begins on an intellectual level, as in just saying the words, even to oneself, a motion is set up towards the release of the negative energy one carries through resentment. Forgiveness, it seems, just like all such virtuous sounding actions, is a selfish act. It is never done for the other, but for oneself. I think it is called an act for that exact reason. It begins as such. It is a conscious choice to fight the noises in your head, to say I choose hope over anger, I choose love over hate, I choose truth over lies. To fight the malicious ingredients of resentment - bitterness, rage, anxiety, and to say stop. You no longer have a grip over me. I will forgive and I might even forget, but not for you, for me.
To forgive is to say I accept you for who you are, with all your flaws and shortcomings. To say I understand what it is that made you who you are, I understand that you were unable to fight the noises in your own head and that I wish you well, I wish you the release you are searching for and I wish you strength in the battle with your own demons. You are understood but not welcome.