The Selfish Act of Forgiveness

Growing up Catholic, there was a set way to reach forgiveness. From the time I was in second grade to when I graduated high school, I attended confession regularly. For the non-Catholics, confession is a Catholic sacrament. You talk to a priest (sometimes in the oft-photographed confessional, sometimes face-to-face) and tell them your sins. They usually give you a few prayers to say to make up for it. For years, I’d tell a priest every time I disobeyed my mom. In confessional math, one “disobeying mom” equaled one Hail Mary. I’m not a practicing Catholic these days, which has made the entire idea of forgiveness a little bit harder. In my now non-religious world, forgiveness doesn’t have a set equation. If you’ve said something rude to Allison at a party, she doesn’t care how many Hail Marys you say in the privacy of your home. Allison will give you the stink eye the next time you run into her. People don’t need to forgive you. There are some people who will never forgive you. Lord knows, there are people I don’t have time for after one bad interaction. That being said, I am good at forgiving. Forgiveness, in my mind, is a generally selfish act. When I forgive someone, I am doing it for me. There’s only so much anger I will carry around, and there are certain people who don’t deserve that anger. The only thing to give them instead is my forgiveness. Forgiveness is not an exchange, so much as a laying down of my own burdens. I don’t really seek forgiveness these days. I try to repair, when I hurt others. I try to let go, when I can’t. Repair, to me, is much better than forgiveness.