In my quiet time this morning, my question was something along the lines of “show me the way.”
There was no thunderbolts and lightning response.
However later this morning, I noticed the chatter in my head about unfinished business with people that I call my “Unforgiveness” work. That would be the mind chatter about “what he did” or “what she did” that is still playing in my head. You know, many years later. Clear guidance — a sign post — of what in my life I have not yet forgiven.
I mean, I want to forgive that petty little stuff. I want to let it go. Surely someone as mature and educated as myself should have left all that stuff behind by now. No?
My Unforgiveness falls into the category of “my victim story”. There’s power in it, obviously. I’m not letting go of it because I’m getting something really good out of it, obviously. The payoff to me of keeping my victim story running must be much better than the perceived payoff of letting it go.
I’ll have to keep looking. There may be some vindictiveness to it. I’ve let a lot of my vindictiveness go over the past decade plus. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still in here. You know, something like “I’ll get even with you!” Or, “now I’ve got you, you s.o.b.!”
Pretty little things like that.
For sure, my Unforgiveness is a foundational part of my defensiveness. “They are never going to do that to me again!” So I erect the fortress walls, shut myself down, and prepare for the next battle. I am safe. Well, actually, emotionally and spiritually I am dead. But at least it feels safe.
It’s not difficult to identify my Unforgiveness. It’s the ugly chatter in my head. It’s the stuff that I am either avoiding or else getting downright indignant about. It’s the “memories” — the story — which feels painful in my body as I am telling it to myself. Either numb or outraged, my suffering is a safe, comfortable place for me to live.
So, like I said, “show me the way”.
“Unforgiveness dead ahead,” was the reply.