The antidote to regret is (self-)compassion, from which forgiveness flows. Withheld apologies are like splinters of curdled emotion in your inner peace. The only way to get rid of them is to pull them out in one fell swoop. Just say you are sorry. Allow remorse. Learn from it. Then move on. Forgiving is one of the hardest things there is, I do know that. It’s a nice topic to read about, but in practice, it’s heavy stuff. To sincerely forgive and to sincerely ask for forgiveness are serious business.
Am I good at saying I’m sorry? Yes, pretty good. For me, it doesn’t require an enormous ego struggle to acknowledge my own role in matters. Am I good at forgiving? No, not always. Especially not on bad days. There still are people in my life in whose presence the words “I forgive you” don’t roll off my tongue in the zen, enlightened, compassionate way I aspire to. And when it comes to some of my personal choices, getting from remorse to forgiveness isn’t always a walk in the park. To forgive because you have to is useless anyway. You can’t force the moment; for it to be genuine, it will be the result of a process.
What I have been succeeding at more quickly, more often, and with more ease, however (meditation does pay off!), is forgiving the situation. It feels like this: acknowledging that there is no guilt, but rather inability. That things simply happened this way, without bad intentions or deliberate cruelty. To be able to sincerely say, “It is what it is”—and not in an indifferent, “whatever” way.
By the way, once you are ready, you should know that sincerely apologizing out loud or voicing regret really is much less difficult than you might expect. The embarrassment or pain you think you will feel, the anticipation, is far more complicated and energy-draining than the act itself. It’s like jumping into cold water: Just do it, because all that tiptoeing around the water’s edge will make you colder than the plunge itself. You’ve probably seen someone else doing it and felt the urge to just scream: “For the love of God, just say you’re sorry already! Get over yourself!”
Forgiveness comes in many different shapes and sizes. Forgiving someone who didn’t show up for your birthday party is of a different order from forgiving someone who severely breached your trust. Forgiving yourself for binge-eating three Kit Kat bars is not the same as forgiving yourself for knowingly failing yourself.
A possible consolation? Forgiving something is not the same as saying you approve of it. In the end, it has more to do with the awareness that the other person is human, and that you are human, with all the imperfection that entails. Nobody is wholly good, nor bad through and through. We all want to experience love, to be safe, to survive. In that we are one. Saying you’re sorry and being able to forgive takes you to a deeper level, a place where your ego isn’t just hurt and offended, but also a place of love and unity. And there you’ll also find a place to heal.
Forgiveness isn’t something you do (just) for the other person; you do it for yourself. You cut the threads tying you to a negative energy. Saying “I forgive you, I no longer hold it against you” is a work in progress. Forgiveness breathes in, and out. Feel free to first be obstinate, angry, resentful, or crass, if that’s what is necessary. Still, it will make your days lighter if you manage to restore the balance.
Saying You’re Sorry
Practice what you would like to say. Let your regrets find a form in language. Start with “I’m sorry about that,” and then try to make a concrete statement of what you’re sorry about. Don’t omit painful details. And do this for and against yourself.
Pick your moment. Sometimes things have to calm down first. The best time to say you’re sorry is when you sincerely experience—honestly, empathetically, and purely—that you have done something wrong.
Be sincere. Not ready to apologize without making excuses? Then don’t do it. Saying you’re sorry just to say it is pointless and, at best, a way to relieve some tension. A proper apology is not followed by a “but…”
Apologize without expectations. Be selfless. Offer your apologies; place them in front of you. It is up to the other person to accept or reject them, and you have no influence over their decision. Realize that in advance: Saying you’re sorry is where it ends for you and where it starts for the other person. Yes, it would be nice if it could be an equal transaction, but you can only take responsibility for your own part.
Listen to what the other person has to say. You don’t have to deal with it right away, but you do need to respect their emotions and perspective.
Sometimes you don’t get the chance to say you’re sorry in person. If so, practice forgiveness from within, and let it flow out into the world. Do little things to show that you have sincerely forgiven: You no longer talk badly about the person, you can reflect on the person or situation without judgment or expectations, you can examine your own role and can honestly say that the incident or situation is archived.
Spare others the enlightened version of yourself. Nothing is more painful than a superior attitude from which you generously grant others forgiveness. Yuck. Be humble, human, and relatable. Don’t turn forgiveness into a form of ego theater.
// Perhaps a Coach After All
Getting help from a pro isn’t that crazy
To me it’s a mystery why, when we visit the dentist twice a year, regularly get our breasts and wombs checked for unwanted “activity,” take our cars in for an annual service check, slather ourselves with sunscreen, and regularly have our eyes examined, we aren’t regularly seeking an expert opinion of our psychological and spiritual well-being. What’s the status? What is going well, what needs improvement?
In the old days, people were likely receiving these checkups from their tribe or their church elders, but those traditional structures are long gone. Fortunately, there’s something called coaching. During certain moments in my life, coaching has been very reflective, forming, and empowering; if it were up to me, I would have it codified as a basic human right. I suspect I’ve done a great service to the Dutch coaching guild: I’ve pointed many a friend who threw their hands up to heaven in despair to an earthly alternative, something closer to home: coaching.
To me, visiting a coach is like cleaning out a closet: You pull everything from the coat hangers; turn the drawers upside down; check what still fits you, what has worn out, what to discard or wash; and then fold, place, and hang everything back where it belongs in an orderly fashion. If your head feels like an overstuffed, dusty, disorganized closet full of thoughts, then coaching might be just what the doctor ordered.
A coach is different from a psychologist. Psychologists are behavioral experts and offer targeted therapy. If you are experiencing a mental health crisis or want to unpack the root cause of a particular past behavior, a psychologist is a good choice. A coach is more focused on practical matters, on solutions. A coach will likely start from what is and primarily looks at the future. A coach can help you find more flexibility and clarity so you can achieve your goals, no matter how large or small. Coaching tends to focus on exploring who you are and what you wish to accomplish; it helps with self-awareness and personal growth.
Let’s be honest: Not all coaches are created equal, and it’s not a regulated profession. Anyone can call themselves a coach—no education or experience needed. Therefore you may, and should, be critical about who you allow to coach you. It has to feel really good. Nobody is perfect, but it’s nice if the person you consult has done their homework. A good coach doesn’t respond from his or her own old pain and patterns, but is at your service. A good coach is able to get the best out of your self-reflecting ability. They don’t offer exuberant consolation, intensely sympathize, know better, shower you in random spiritual one-liners that aren’t really that relevant to the things you’re struggling with. Good coaches don’t laugh off things, point fingers, or judge. They make sure you will get an increasingly deep understanding of who you are and how you can flourish.
And this is of the utmost importance: Your best friend or partner cannot also be your coach. In a pure coaching relationship, t
here’s no mutual interest. You pay for what you receive, and that’s it. It is so helpful and completely transparent to lay bare your soul—unimpeded, unjudged, and unabashed—to someone who professionally listens and urges you on. At times, we all need someone like that. Not because we are weak but because we sometimes need a sparring partner. A good coach gives you a little push in the right direction, so that you can continue. On a bad day, you could do with a little push like that every so often.
THE BIG BAD WORLD OUT THERE
// Dealing with External Hassle
Wouldn’t life be much, much easier if you weren’t dealing with the big bad outside world? Man, how annoying to be ricocheting back and forth in the pinball machine of life. The one time I want to exercise, the gym happens to be closed for renovation. The one morning I want to sleep in, the neighbors start doing home improvements. When I happen to respond in a totally zen and calm way for once, the other person acts unreasonable. I’m actually totally okay! It’s just that the outside world is thwarting me all the time!
Often the big bad world out there is a cause of bad days and lesser moments. Maybe you can relate to the following statements:
I did everything I could.
If it weren’t for other people being so difficult, then…
I have no control over it.
If they hadn’t interfered, then…
I am not being heard anyway.
Why do I have to worry about that?
Why am I not being taken into account?
It is not my fault that…
I didn’t do anything wrong; they made mistakes.
And now I have to solve things, or make up, or sort it out again.
They are out to undermine me.
I’m done with it, or I’m breaking up, or I’m quitting.
You know what—never mind. You figure it out.
This list could be much, much longer. What these thoughts have in common is that they point to other people. It’s part of a lesser day experience to point to the big bad outside world, because on lesser days it is very tempting to find other people stupider, meaner, and less enlightened than yourself. A boomerang must always be thrown with force, but unfortunately, it will come flying back just as fast. It’s generally pretty senseless to point to other people on lesser days, simply because you don’t have that much influence over what’s going on around you. You can’t change the direction of the wind, just the position of your sails, remember?
Anger is a powerful energy that makes you strong and combative. It helps you to set your boundaries and not be swayed by lesser alternatives. You can wander in the Valley of Reproach for quite a long time if you feel like it, although that tends to be not very useful. Often we just do it because we don’t know what else to do, or because we don’t feel like taking responsibility. At some point, you have to transform anger to let it go.
You can ask yourself questions, such as: What can I do to at least improve the situation for myself? Do I have to set boundaries? Can I find a glimmer of compassion in myself and also direct it to others or to the circumstances? Is my frustration an excuse not to do, or not to eschew, something? Do I have to deal with it right now, or can I just let it go? What could I do differently myself? Does it change anything in the circumstances when I start to stack emotions (for example, feeling rotten about having a rotten feeling), or is this bad day bad enough without piling on? What can I do right now that would contribute to a slightly less grumpy, dejected, gray version of myself, independent from the big bad world out there?
// And What Does This Say about You?
In kindergarten, I learned a children’s song, and I still remember the first lines. It goes like this: “Take a look around you, just take a look. Take someone else’s hand, for you are not alone. Together we can have fun, sing, and play. We may be small, but playing together makes a great day.” I still think these words are lovely. You’re not alone in this world. Now that’s a sweet reminder for a lesser day, isn’t it?
But no matter how spiritually ideal it may be, the fact that someone lives a conscious life doesn’t automatically make them everyone’s friend. Let’s not be holier-than-thou. You can’t fool me that you like to spend your free time with that nosy, nose-picking toddler on the third floor, with your sighing and whimpering ex, or with that woman who tests that sound barrier with her shrill, fake laugh at every party. Providing other people with love, happiness, and a sense of safety isn’t necessarily the same as hanging on the couch with them until all the wine runs out. We can pretend otherwise, but we’re talking real life here.
Especially on tough days, it can be a wise decision to close yourself off from other people’s energy when the vibes aren’t charging you positively. Go and sit inside your cocoon, if need be. But when others are causing your bad days or making them worse, it can be interesting to ask yourself why you let your environment get under your skin like that. It may be a cliché of the first order, but being irritated by or disliking someone oftentimes says something about you as well. Apparently, that person triggers a sense of aversion in you. That’s annoying to hear because it’s so much more convenient to point to others; however, it’d only be fair to admit it if it’s true, because with such honesty, you can create space and distance for yourself, give yourself a little more air, and draw off some of the tension you feel.
You can learn something from everyone you meet. Really. And by that I mean literally everyone you ever met or will ever meet. Other people are a perfect mirror for what you’re transmitting. There are spiritual schools that assume that anyone crossing your path enters your life with a purpose. I’m not sure how literally you should take this “path crossing”—I always think: Well, that would turn a rush-hour subway trip into a very intense ride. But it is certainly fascinating to ponder how you can use your interaction with other people as a crash course in self-knowledge.
The trick, of course, is to discover what it is exactly that you can learn from others. And to do that, a question was conceived that is often used in a slightly passive-aggressive manner: “So, what does this actually say about you?” I’d like to advise against using this question as a trump card in pseudo-therapeutic settings or heated arguments, but, in essence, it’s a good question. What does your feeling of irritation, admiration, love, fear, panic, or jealousy say about you? What was it in a given encounter that provoked this reaction or emotion? Is there something you perhaps would like to be able to do? Or be? For example, I have a mild allergy to people who always complain about their health, but that most likely says something about my own inability to be a little less stern now and then when it comes to my own well-being.
On bad days, try not to focus all your attention on other people. Occasionally, dare to ask yourself: Is there something to be learned here about who I am and what I think is important? Would this be a moment for me to practice my loving-kindness and compassion?
First Aid for Energy Vampires
We deal with other people all day, every day. That’s just how it is, whether offline or online, far away or up close. When you detect energy vampires in your direct environment, try to consciously isolate yourself from them. Don’t meet up with that friend for a while, the one from whom you always come home exhausted. See if you can change the way you work with that particular colleague. Don’t pick up the phone for a while. Leave the curtains closed for a day, if you feel you need it. Sometimes you just have to. And the outside world will just have to deal with it.
A nice visualization technique is that of a golden egg. When you quickly need something—say, you’re about to enter a room or meet someone—take a couple of minutes to visualize a thin, golden, and unbreakable skin around you that can only be penetrated by positive vibes. Inside this egg, you are safe and protected. “Whoa, she’s saying that I have to imagine a golden egg around myself?” Yup. And it works, I promise.
// The Lives You Don’t Lead
When I discovered the meaning of “sonder”
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nbsp; I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of the lives one is not living. Maybe this rings a bell for you. It’s something most of us have experienced as children—amazement about just how big the world is, and everything one can become and experience. Some adults still have it, by the way. I spent a sleepless night after I first learned about parallel universes, in which your alternative lives play out in infinite parallel bubbles. Each time you take a right turn, you also turn left, resulting in a new bubble. With every choice we make, we simultaneously don’t make one. For each turn we take, we’re missing another one. In the multiverse, however, you’re living each and every one of them! With Stephen Hawking’s theories in mind, you’ll never look at bath soap the same way.
So there are an infinite number of lives you are not living and countless lives you could’ve had—if you’d chosen a different major, had stayed with her, had boarded that plane anyway. On bad days, these aren’t necessarily the most pleasant scenarios to play out in your mind. “Had I…” The less you feel at home in your own life, the greater the desire for everything to be different.
Yet there’s also a wonderful side to being aware of the lives you’re not leading. It may remind you of the things you truly find important—perhaps not necessarily how an endeavor would have worked out in practice, but the values you put into it. It’s possible that you didn’t want to live in rural Tanzania per se, but that you did long to live closer to nature. Maybe it’s perfectly fine that you didn’t become a professional dancer, but that doesn’t mean that dancing can’t give you a good feeling anymore. On the one hand, accepting your life course is an exercise in surrender; on the other, it’s a useful compass.
The Handbook for Bad Days Page 12