Anger is Lazy

“Forgive her,” said The Voice.

But I don’t want to forgive her.

The Voice grew quiet but wasn’t gone. Its silence waited for me to ask myself why.

The Brat folded her arms across her chest and glowered, “I just don’t WANT to.”

Silence. Waiting.

The Teen, leaning against a wall looked at her fingernails and said, “She’s scared.”

Of what?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m not scared? Maybe I’m lazy. Anger is easier. Anger does the work for me and I don’t have to do anything. It sets the boundaries, it enforces them, it empowers me and keeps me from getting weak, from giving in and from being stupid again with the same person. I can count on anger. I can lean on anger. The problem is, anger leans back. Anger has a price. Anger demands payment and gets it, at will.

Sigh.

“Forgive her.”

I could do that. For two weeks, the need to focus on my husband’s well-being forced me to tell The Rageaholic that I just don’t have time for her right now, even while the Betrayal was in motion and its claws finding my soft spots, making me wince. Necessity and love said, “NO. This is not the time for that. Snap out of it!” and I would (and yes, "Snap out of it!" was said in Cher's Moonstruck voice).

The Sage would remind me, “There are 200 people who are loving you both right now, why would you focus on the 5 that don’t?”. Necessity created a small space for me to have a sane thought and the ability to pull my focus from what usually consumes me to what was better. Because of these things, I have been able to keep from falling into the Resentment Hole I usually would be 20 miles deep in by now.

“Forgive her.”

It’s possible. The resistance is proof of that. Resistance doesn’t happen without something to push against. The possibility of forgiving her is what I am resisting.

I push past the Brat, past the Teen, past the Rageaholic. There is a big white wall for me to write on. I write the word “Lazy” because it feels right. I want the “easy” way out and forgiveness calls for me to work. Forgiveness makes me open, it undoes my anger like a ribbon coming off of a gift. I open up and release my former friend to be who she is, and who she is, is someone whom I cannot trust. No hard feelings. It’s like hiring someone who you find out later just doesn’t have the required skill set for the position, not that friendship is a position…or is it? I guess it kind of is, for both parties.

No hard feelings. Forgiveness, release. No anger. I’m defenseless.

But I’m not.

There is love. There are words. There is me, setting boundaries…not ultimatums. Ultimatums are things I put on someone else, boundaries are for me. Without anger to do the work, I am left with doing it on my own. Forgive, and yet still stay a safe distance.

“She’s scared.”

Hush Teen, what do you know?

“I know a lot”.

Scared? Scared. Oh. Wow. I AM scared. Forgiveness makes me soft and supple. It opens me again. And should she sense this, she could come back and say or do something and it will feel like old times, and I will throw open the doors wide and say come on back in!!! The Girl will whisper “NO…” and I might smile anyway and ignore The Girl and invite my former friend back in. Why? When I know and I HEAR The Girl warning me because she knows danger too well and she is always the one that whispers the warnings when I am running into it. But I don’t listen because…I’m lazy. I may let a false sense of security of smiles and hugs and nice words spin me a story that isn’t true and I might pretend like I don’t know I’m being lied to. It’s just easier. Because I am lazy.

Forgiveness is possible. I am not being eaten alive by Resentment. I do not have the Resentment Beast to feed. I could forgive and let it go. I could stay open. And be free. Truly free.

The Sage says “With freedom comes responsibility.”

Yes. And responsibility always means work. Action. Awareness. Commitment.

Time to do my own work and not abdicate my power to anger or frivolity. To love first myself so I can clearly see what is best for me, and stand by it. And to love her as a fellow human, a fellow flawed human just like me. There is no judgement, our character defects just happen to be incompatible with each other.

She has not asked for forgiveness. It is a gift I am giving myself. She possibly could in the future, and I would give her a bit of the gift I already have. “Here you go, you can have a slice of this beautiful, blue, cloud-like, heavenly Forgiveness Cake. I baked it myself, for myself but I will share a slice with you. Not all of it. Just a bit. Because it was not made for you, it was made for me, but I don’t mind sharing, since you asked.”.

And then I move along. I don’t linger. I don’t say too many things, hug longer or closer than is warranted, or invite or accept an invite to spend more time together somewhere, sometime. I do the work of staying in my lane, of being kind yet being who I need to be for myself. No anger, no overzealous peacemaker to take the reigns and relieve me of my duty to me.

“Forgive her?”

Yes. I am ready for the job of forgiveness and personal responsibility. I am ready to be a grown up here, in this space that was created by betrayal, a space in which a dark whisper desperately tried to grow into a bright red shout. And now this space is where forgiveness was born and a woman stared into the mirror and looked into the eyes of her Brat, Girl, Teen, Sage and Rageaholic and heard all they had to say, and received the lessons they had to teach. And The Voice became the Wall, and the Wall became a door and I became more of the woman I am supposed to be, taller in my own skin and left that room behind into a new place with new possibilities.

I forgive her, and I forgive me, and I am up for the job.

-NW

9.3.21