Yesterday my neighbor and good friend Palma asked if I could meet her ten-year-old daughter Elaine at the bus stop next week and bring her to my house for thirty minutes while Palma drives home from somewhere else. I didn’t hear the “somewhere else” part because my own internal monologue was too loud. “Go to the bus stop? At four in the afternoon? Baby-sit? What about my work? Why aren’t self-employed people treated with the same respect...” 

“.....unless it’s a particularly busy time of your workday,” Palma was saying when I tuned back in.

“All of my workdays are busy,” I said brusquely. “I’m writing 17 speeches in the next 12 days.”

Ultimately I agreed to baby-sit, but only after stipulating that Elaine would have to sit in the living room and read or play with Rocky, my dog, while I worked in the next room. I didn’t promise cookies or conversation. My “yes” was an uptight, stressed out, imposed-upon sort of “yes.”

When we hung up I was disappointed and angry -- not with Palma, who rarely asks for favors, and not with my decision, because there’s no reason I can’t make up that half-hour by working later that night, or simply spending less time on chatty emails. I was mad at myself for carrying a chip on my shoulder about the importance of my home-based business, and for responding in such an ungracious way.

The situation called for self-forgiveness. Luckily I recognize that now. Luckily I can tell, now, when I’m making myself miserable with self-criticism, even over minor faults and failings, and I know how to make myself feel better.

In the past, self-forgiveness would not have occurred to me. I might have felt angry with Palma for asking for help. I might have called Palma to apologize for my parsimonious response, hoping that she would offer me the forgiveness I needed. Or I might have called her and changed my answer to "no," hoping to resolve my discomfort by pushing her and Elaine away.

Self-forgiveness is a much better way to go.

I learned about self-forgiveness over the past few years, during an agonizing and ultimately liberating process of forgiving the man who molested me when I was young. During that experience, I had to forgive myself for having been naive, for having lied to my parents, for not having somehow stopped the abuse. (Sometimes self-forgiveness is required even when you really did nothing wrong.)

Along the way I noticed how harshly self-critical I am on a daily basis. I learned that when I'm suffering, self-forgiveness is often the answer. Learning from mistakes is essential too, but mostly what we need, I believe, is less self-punishment and more self-love.

One time when my friend Lianna was four years old, she was jumping on her bed and chattering about her imaginary friend Bartok the bat and her ability (which she demonstrated) to sing vibrato. I was enjoying her exuberance and her many talents but was nevertheless having an unhappy sort of day, feeling sorry for myself. Then, at the height of one bounce, Lianna looked me in the eye and said, “I will love you forever.”

She shocked me right out of my self-pity. When we both bounced back down to earth, I found myself hoping that she will indeed love me forever, although soon afterward she told me with just as much certainty that she will marry her little brother.

But her innocent declaration somehow led me to this question: What if we could say that to ourselves: “I will love you forever”? What if we not only promised that, but made good on the promise? Forever, no matter what?

People seem to crave this unconditional self-love, this freedom from self-recrimination. “I wish I could forgive myself,” people tell me, or, “I’m afraid I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” It's something audience members ask when I speak on this subject: “How can I forgive myself?” They're not asking if it's possible, or if it's correct, or if there is religious precedent for it. They want guidance on how to accomplish it because they're in pain.

Self-forgiveness is a commitment to love yourself no matter what. It's the generous act of giving yourself a break. Remembering that you're human. Offering yourself the loving kindness that you might offer, on your best days, to those you love the most, no matter what they’ve done.

The song says, “Let There Be Peace on Earth... and let it begin with me.” Self-forgiveness is about “beginning with me.” When we “begin with me,” treating ourselves with love and compassion, we become nicer to everyone else. We become less defensive. We don’t worry so much what others’ judgments might be, because we’re not judging ourselves. If we eventually choose to apologize, that apology is no longer driven by our own pain and shame. It’s a gift -- “I’m sorry” -- instead of a request: “Please forgive me.”

In my case, I did apologize to Palma for my reaction, but not until I’d thought about why boundary issues (when to say yes and no) are so tricky for many women. We tend to put others needs before our own, sometimes to our own detriment -- but we want to be caring and considerate, so we’re conflicted. I thought, too, about why I’m so protective of my work time: I believe that the success of my beloved writing and speaking business is due to hard work and self-discipline, and in some irrational part of my brain, one half-hour of mid-afternoon babysitting could send me streaming down a slippery slope to bankruptcy. I also remembered that in twelve years of self-employment, I’ve struggled with every “please take time off work” request, regardless of its source. It’s just something that’s tough for me -- which is not such a horrible thing.

Thinking these things through -- and talking them through with another friend -- helped me give myself some slack. “No wonder this is a difficult issue for you,” I said to myself. I forgave myself. Now I still needed to make a phone call.

By the time I reached Palma later that evening, I no longer felt tense or conflicted. And I was looking forward to spending time with Elaine. No way was I going to leave her alone in the living room.

I explained to Palma that I had been feeling stressed out when she called, and she said with a laugh that she knows the feeling. We had a relaxed conversation, easy and natural. I didn’t need any forgiveness from her. All I needed was to revise my answer: “Sure. I’d be glad to help. Elaine and Rocky and I can all play together. Or Elaine can play dress-ups with my clothes. Whatever she wants. I'll be at the bus stop early. Tell her I’ll bring Oreo cookies: her favorite.”

Email our friend, Mariah Burton Nelson, to tell her how much you have enjoyed her articles on OfSpirit.com: Mariah@MariahBurtonNelson.com

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Mariah Burton Nelson is the author of The Unburdened Heart: Five Keys to
Forgiveness and Freedom (HarperSanFrancisco May 2000). She can be reached at
www.MariahBurtonNelson.com.

Mariah Burton Nelson
Author/Athlete/Professional Speaker
The Unburdened Heart: 5 Keys to Forgiveness and Freedom (Harper SF 2000)
2909 North 24th Street
Arlington, VA 22207-4914
703/276-8323 (ph); 703/276-8728 (fax)
Mariah@MariahBurtonNelson.com
www.MariahBurtonNelson.com

This article was originally published in the Washington Post. We thank Mariah Burton Nelson for allowing us to give new life to this article and share it with OfSpirit.com visitors for education, entertainment and empowerment.
___________________ 

Mariah Burton Nelson is the author of The Unburdened Heart: Five Keys to
Forgiveness and Freedom (Harper San Francisco 2000). She can be reached at
Mariah@MariahBurtonNelson.com.