nathalie shushan

In Judaism, the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are our last opportunity for repentance and reflection before our fate for the next year is sealed. For as long as I can remember, I have taken my atonement very seriously. It gives me a chance to assess my standing in relationships, try to objectively consider actions that I’ve taken throughout the year, and take responsibility for any harm that I’ve done (intentionally or not). The quiet day offers a very particular pause for self-reflection that forces me to recognize how I can better represent the person that I truly want to be. This year, however, amidst my apologies, I noticed something for the first time. In my requests for forgiveness, my offers of forgiveness have become an afterthought. I reduced it to a cookie-cutter sentence copied and pasted from one note to the next. “I forgive you for anything you may have done intentionally or unintentionally to cause me any harm,” quickly moving onto the next apology.

I realized what a disservice I was doing to myself and those around me by not pausing to really contemplate and work through forgiveness. After putting so much energy this year into trying to forgive people for ways I thought they could have been better and trying to forgive myself for ways that I could have been better, I understand what a blessing it is to forgive as I go. To have an opportunity, each year, to really release anything I’m holding onto is such a gift. 

It’s interesting, though. It doesn’t necessarily work the same way as apologies. It’s a much lonelier process.  You can’t exactly list your grievances in a note and say “I forgive you these transgressions.” People don’t often take kindly to that kind of criticism; it doesn’t land the way we hope it would.  I have one friend with whom I have spent the past few years sharing very meaningful and mutual notes of apology, and that has really fortified our relationship, but I have found that kind of vulnerability to be rare. Instead, you often have to work through your forgiveness on your own. Sometimes, it can be arduous. It is a heavy undertaking to look at your wounds, one by one, and sit in your pain long enough to befriend it, sometimes to acknowledge it for the first time, to recognize that there is nothing wrong with feeling hurt but also that you are not a victim of your experiences. 

I recently heard Gabor Maté explain that “trauma is not what happens to you, it’s what happens inside you as a result of what happened to you.” What an empowering thing to learn. If trauma is a word we use to describe what happens to us, then we are stripped of our power to do anything about it. It would hold us captive, hands bound behind our backs. Instead, we can do our best to understand what happens inside of us, really examine it, and take action to move through it.

I have spent the better part of the year working through forgiveness in one way or another. In the process of forgiveness, you are reminded that everyone is fighting their own battle. Even those that love you, truly unconditionally, can only support you as much as they can support themselves. And sometimes the people you think of as superhuman, the people that you need to lean on for your own support, are barely treading water. 

So this year, in addition to taking stock of my own actions, I claimed my power of forgiveness. Anger and pain are burdens too heavy to bear. It’s a difficult but worthwhile process. And it doesn’t mean that you can accept any pain inflicted upon you. Often, forgiveness necessitates setting boundaries (which is something I’m still working through). Still, I always think of my sister reminding me of the beautiful adage, “to forgive is to free a prisoner and to realize that the prisoner is yourself.”