I feel like everyone I talk to holds on to some kind of resentment. Whether it’s with their family of origin, their partners, or their friends.

Forgiveness came up recently in conversation, during which we considered the resentments we currently hold and how it affects us. Defining forgiveness in itself is a finicky one. How do you delineate between forgiving and forgetting? How do you forgive without avoiding? Does forgiveness happen over time? How long does it take to forgive?

Let’s consider.

What is forgiveness?

I’m not going to pull out the ol’ Merriam-Webster for this one—I can’t stand when essayists do that. Forgiveness, as I define it, is a choice to move forward after being wronged.

Though many people think of forgiveness as an act toward another person, often individuals need to forgive themselves as well.

When will I forgive myself?

If you’ve only considered forgiveness from the perspective of someone else harming you, you may have skimmed over times where you need to delve out forgiveness to yourself.

Everyone makes mistakes. We live, we learn, we make adjustments. We call that experience. However, sometimes shame holds the learning part hostage. Instead of noticing when things turned in a different direction or how we could have made a difference in a sequence of events, shame causes someone to stop that process and ruminate on how they did something that led to an undesired result. Then they make meaning out of it, or allow it to define themselves.

For example: “I tripped on my shoelace and fell in front of everyone. I always humiliate myself. I’m such an idiot.”

vs

“I tripped on my shoelace. That was embarrassing. Next time I’ll remember to tie my shoe.”

It’s important to notice if you’re ruminating, so that you can choose to forgive yourself.

What is resentment?

Resentment is a pot of liquid left at a rolling boil on a stove. Boiling water is fine! Sure, it can scald, but a pot is a controlled environment. You’re free to put some other dishes in the sink, cut some vegetables, grab a—-oh no! It’s boiled over. You rush to adjust the heat, but the mess is made. Food is quickly heating and burning on the stovetop. Your measured ingredients are no longer precise. Things will surely be okay, but that didn’t have to happen.

Resentment boils over when you least expect it to. Put more literally, resentment is the act of holding on to hurt feelings over time. Those underlying feelings of anger, betrayal, or disrespect that make up a resentment may not affect day-to-day interactions, but they can cause a mild transgression into a huge ordeal.

What does resentment do to me?

I can’t speak for everyone, and I’m not sure if I asked around if I’d be able to get a lot of direct answers. But for me, resentment causes me to show a side of myself I’m not proud of.

I do the work. I read the books, I show up to therapy, I have good habits, self care, the whole lot of it. I’m proud of that. I know how to effectively and maturely talk about hard stuff. I’ve got the tools.

But when resentment shows up, I wield the tools as weapons against the other person. I’ll need a hammer, but instead I’ll throw a wrench in the whole thing.

Resentment makes me reactive, it makes me jump to the wrong conclusions, and it makes me obsessive about negative self talk. When resentment comes into play, I attribute meaning to a small action and I use it to define a whole relationship.

Why am I resentful?

Resentment comes from an evolutionarily valuable trait: the ability to remember. Humans have the gift (and curse) of knowing what happened in the past and the unique ability to predict the future based on what they experienced. Predicting the future is helpful: “Last time someone ate that type of berry, they died. I will die if I do the same, so I will not eat the berry.”

We apply this similarly to our relationships: “Last time I trusted them, they hurt me. I should not trust them or anyone.” This is not helpful.

In fact, rather than protect you from future discomfort, resentment makes things worse in the present, as you expect the worst and interpret things with negative biases. It continues to do so, into the future you’d hope to protect, and it traps you in that space.

How long will it take me to forgive?

Many refer to the old adage: “time heals all wounds.” They’re sure that if we wait patiently, forgiveness will arrive like a late bus: much anticipated, celebrated, and an enormous sense of relief.

Sure, pain from a misdeed lessens over time in an organic way. But unless you make the conscious effort to forgive, a pain will still be there, just off in the distance, waiting to be useful when we try to make sense of things. Waiting to be used as proof that things can’t be as good as they feel during better times.

What does my husband have to do for me to forgive him?

No one I know has the perfect partnership. Most women hold resentments over one thing or another, big or small. Many feel disrespected, devalued, and invalidated about their feelings. This shows up as getting angry about simple housekeeping or childcare duties: they use these tiny missteps as “proof” that they aren’t treated fairly. “Nagging wife” trope has entered the chat.

Sometimes missteps are bigger than others, but ultimately the answer is the same: forgiveness only takes one person, and it’s not the person who made the misstep. It’s the person holding the resentment. To forgive, you must make a conscious effort to do so.

Thus leads us back to our initial question:

How do I forgive?

Forgiveness is a decision. It doesn’t happen out of the blue, or over time. It begins when you decide to let yourself stretch deeper into forgiveness, rather than just telling yourself or another person that all is forgiven.

Forgiveness is a practice. We say “I forgive you” all the time, and think we mean it. But forgiveness includes letting go of those resentments, putting the brakes on jumping to the same old conclusions. For example: “he didn’t clean up his mess because he doesn’t value me. It’s just like when he [enter situation you’ve “forgiven” him for].” No honey, he’s just a regular ol’ slob. He’s always been like that. Ha! I kid, but you see what I’m saying.

Practice requires repetition.

• Daily affirmations: “I forgive ______ for ______ and I let go of all of the assumptions I made about them and our relationship as a result.”
• Intentional journaling: journaling in the heat of the moment to express your anger is helpful, but coming back when with a cooler head and disproving those conclusions you jumped to when angry will be more productive in the long run
• Burn it. Ya know, if you want to evoke a middle school version of yourself. Write out all the things the action made you feel and the negative spiral it took you on, then create a ritual of destroying it.
• Write a letter or email that you don’t intend to send. Write how the hurt felt, the conclusions you drew from it, how it affected you, and what you yearn for. Know that you got out all you wanted to, and move forward.
• Notice the thoughts when they arise. Pay attention to when your head starts going to places where rhetorical initial hurt brought you, and stop them in their tracks: “I used to think this way, but I’ve decided to forgive.”
• Give yourself a timeline. When I was divorced at 22, I was empowered by it. I relished in the idea that I escaped a situation that I thought I had sentenced myself to for life. But on the anniversary of that decision, I decided I didn’t want that to be something that defined me forever. I let myself feel the feelings I felt, but decided enough was enough, and I was glad I had that insight then, because many people define themselves for far too long by what they’ve been through.

Forgiveness is not Reconciliation

Forgiveness is a gift you give to yourself, and doesn’t require anyone else. Sometimes addressing issues like this can create a whole new conflict that you’ll need to forgive them for. Know that forgiveness will heal you more than anyone else.

What are your thoughts on forgiveness? How will releasing your resentments improve your quality of life? Let me know in the comments.