Forgiveness: The Real F Word

Bullwinkle: I'd like to apply for a job as an usher.
Boris: What experience have you had?
Bullwinkle: I've been in the dark for most of my life.

I have a Bullwinkle mug. A friend, ah-hem, gave it to my ex-husband and me when our kids were little and we were a family. The cup is cursed. Every time I pull it out, I think better of it and with a private and quiet “Fuck you,” I put it back in the cupboard. Now, a word about this word. I never use it in public, and I am constantly telling my students not to use it. I explain that it is offensive to some people and we’re not in the business of trying to offend people. For that reason, it’s a word that makes me cringe so that as I walk through the halls at school, I must look like I have Tourettes. So for me to say it every time I see that Bullwinkle cup, means I really am not who I want to be. Like Bullwinkle, I’m still in the dark when it comes to forgiving.

Over the years I’ve worked on my resentment toward that friend who promised then betrayed. One of the tools I used was to make three columns. In column one I wrote what she did to me: She said she was in my corner. In column two I wrote my part in it: I trusted her rather than my instinct which told me something was up. In column three I wrote the life lesson it taught me: listen to my gut to keep my distance. Finally I wrote a little thank you note (never to be sent) for the experience.

Apparently it didn’t take because eighteen years later, it still has me spurting that dreaded obscenity.

So I thought I’d try something different: take contrary action. I used the cup all week. Each time I picked it up, my curses (foiled again) lightened up a bit. I still thought about that friend, but instead of seeing her as a tyrant, I started seeing her as someone who was pretty lonely, who struggled with relationships and never won the struggle. Finally, by the end of the week I was no longer swearing.

Someone once said, (brace yourself; I’m going to say it again) “The best fuck you is to make something of yourself.” Eighteen years have gone by and I love my rich life. That past friend may still be trapped in loneliness, or not. I hope not. Now I can feel some compassion for her, or at least who she was when I last knew her. Next week when I pull out the cup, I’ll think about the magic of life and say, “Hey Rocky. Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.” It may be the first time that trick will work.

Here’s a little healthy smoothie you can make right in your own Bullwinkle cup. No need to add the sugar, because fruit, and life, and the peace of letting go of resentments are sweet enough.

Fruit Smoothie

½ c. of plain, fat free yogurt

½ banana cut in small pieces

½ a piece of fruit or berries—pear, peach, fresh fig, strawberries, blueberries, whatever your fancy and whatever is in season. Ooh! Mango! That’s the best.

Mix with a spoon then blend with a submersible blender. It foams up nicely. For added protein and omega-3’s, throw in a T. of chia seeds.

To your health! To life!