Realising it’s not my fault

It’s not your fault

Monday 11 January 2021

A multiple-choice answer to a question Tara gives us to ponder about in session three of her course on the theme of forgiveness is: when I try to see how suffering has driven harmful behaviours, I feel…

I’m making excuses

Afraid I’ll continue being harmful

Unable to see the suffering

Connected with self-compassion

Realising it’s not my fault:

This morning, after a rather enjoyable and educative weekend I am returning to the practice of forgiveness by freeing myself from blame and resentment.

Consider where you find it hard to forgive yourself for something you said or done in the past, or maybe something that’s ongoing?

What comes to my mind is every time I react in anger or frustration at my mother when it feels like she is comparing me to others and criticising me.

The next question is what stops me from forgiving myself? What stops me from letting go of blame? What might happen if I forgave myself?

Reflect on these questions and see if you can sense for yourself that there might be a fear that forgiving yourself is condoning your behaviour: Hurting my father, came to mind.

Or that by forgiving and condoning your behaviour you’ll continue to repeat it and never stop or improve or get better.

Or maybe if you forgive yourself others won’t forgive you and you’ll be rejected by them. Or maybe you feel you don’t deserve forgiveness for the premature death of loved ones because of one simple act of carelessness. A film that depicts this well is Manchester by the Sea.

When we continue to blame and are unable or unwilling to forgive ourselves, it gives us an illusory sense of control.

Could I have saved Alberto’s life, prevented his overdosing if I had knocked on my flatmate’s door that night? Could I have prevented my brother from almost burning to death, if I had gone with him down to the shed that day? Could I have kept my relationship with Maya alive, had I been there to open the door for her that day; or helped another ex-partner or my sister to me move beyond their trauma and destructive habits of self-soothing? Could I have done and still do more to open or remove the doors separating myself from them and countless other relationships I’m not even conscious of playing a role in deconstructing?

I think of another old flame, opening the door and scurrying like a gerbil into my bed when we became lovers instead of remaining just good friends one Christmas. Two years later I rejected what I considered an indirect invitation to enter her bedroom when she left her door slightly open. Having shut me out too often in the interim I got used to sleeping alone again and soothing myself, rather than when it suited her.

Or perhaps anticipating rejection again and not wanting to feel that feeling I preferred to avoid and control who and how I loved and satisfied my sexual desires.

When we’re blaming or not forgiving ourselves or others for how we’re behaving it gives us a sense of illusory control that at least we’re doing something to counter control the situation or person that’s hurting us.

The Buddha explains this in terms of two arrows:

The first arrow that hits us is an unpleasant experience of ourselves: some aggressive, irrational, or fearful behaviour.

The second arrow is when we try to control that perceived bad or unpleasant experience by punishing ourselves, shooting ourselves with the second arrow of judgment: I’m to blame for experiencing this. This is the self-imprisonment of our survival brain: it turns against itself when we perceive ourselves as a threat. But does this help to heal the parts of ourselves that are hurting? Does hating or condemning parts of ourselves; our angry self, our anxious-avoidant or overly submissive oppressed self, make us feel better or worse? Self-hatred or blame for what we’ve said or done reinforces our lack of self-esteem and self-worthiness of love. It lays the foundation for more of the same behaviour, clinging to our past and erroneous beliefs of right and wrong.

So how do we evolve beyond this habit of self-blame?

We use the wing of mindfulness to investigate.

Tara gives an example of a dog we approach in friendship responds with aggressiveness because its leg is in a trap. All we feel at first is its aggression because we don’t see the bind it’s in that’s causing it to snarl at us.

I think of a recent event where a man and not his dog snarled at me. I had taken our dogs for their morning walk passing by a grassy area where we, like many others, bring their dogs, to do their business rather than having to pick it up on the footpath and bin it in a rubbish, not a compost bin. Out of nowhere, I hear, ‘Excuse me, pick up your dog’s shit’ I turned to be confronted by this demanding, angry man and I immediately became defensive. ‘I don’t pick it up when they do it on the grass,’ I told him. We argued back and forth with his threatening to report me to the guards and dog warden, and verbally abusing me. I told him to go get psychiatric help and to watch his language. ’What are you going to do about it?’ Nothing, I said, just watch your language, which only served to provoke him. He kept on being abusive and went over to a woman waiting with her kids to be picked up by a bus for school, telling her about that bollocks who wouldn’t pick up his dog’s shit. I gestured to the woman that he was crazy. I followed on after him telling him if he had something to say, say it to me. He took the chain of his dog and acted as if he was going to hit me with it. I told him to go ahead and when he got too close to me I put out my hand and stopped him from coming any closer. That firm hand on his chest surprised him and he backed away, trying to make out it was me who was attacking rather than defending myself. Retrieving his dog, which concerned me more with our two straining to attack rather than wait to be bitten, he moved on warning me to stay out of his way.

I turned and walked back rather than walking in the same direction as him. For a few days after that incident, I was wary of meeting him again and I did of course bump into him. He was still behaving aggressively and probably also as anxious as I to avoid me but not willing to back down. On that occasion, my partner who was holding our dogs moved off the footpath to let him pass with his hooded head down for although had seen us he wasn’t going to give way. On the few occasions, I’ve seen him since there have been no words spoken but he was a little shook the last time I bumped into him.

While I have forgiven myself for reacting in kind and ready to defend myself or my partner if necessary, I can see how his leg has been in a trap for many years with only a dog for company. Because of his way of being he states and follows the rules to the letter with no legroom. As a result, no community organisation wants even his voluntary participation, which makes it difficult to integrate into any community. Although I feel a level of compassion for him, however, I now keep a safe distance from him no longer saluting him as I used to in the past. The boundary is to avoid any further confrontation but it also means there is less chance of reconciliation. These are often difficult situations to let go of and move on from, especially when it’s an intimate friend and not someone I’ve only occasionally spoken to. However, knowing in my heart that I’ve forgiven myself and forgiven him I can with all compassion wish him well. I’m not going to try and rescue him from the bind he’s in, but I can feel compassion and empathise with him for I too have lost my temper and held on to blame and resentment to the detriment of relationships with once intimate friends.

It can be hard to forgive those whom we think should know better and let go of the hurt and betrayal of friendship. However, there can always be the desire or intention and that willingness to forgive ourselves and let go of our self-blame and resentment, which at least remove the barriers that separate us from ourselves.

When we’re at peace with ourselves we’re less likely to behave in ways that are harmful. The behaviours we condemn are a product of past conditioning and so the capacity to see that our leg is in a trap is essential if we want to forgive ourselves and be free.

Most importantly it’s through a felt sense of what’s going on: often our reactions are due to some earlier wounding, where we felt belittled or disrespected or unloved and didn’t get our needs met that we need to now heal for ourselves. That’s often why the felt sense of hurt, fear, anger, and later shame at our uncontrollable outbursts which we are replaying in the present is a great opportunity to change our conditioned pattern of behaviour. Perhaps it’s that unhealthy attachment style of our caregivers or parents who took their frustration and lack of communication skills out on us. It’s not our fault and the good news is once we truly recognise this we can break that cycle.

When we are aware of where our hurt reactivity is coming from we’re able to respond with mindful compassion

Think about what you regularly judge yourself harshly for? And when you identify what it is, examine what it is that you are judging?

Perhaps it’s your self-righteous anger or temper, like me, or excessive consumption to calm or numb your nervous system…

Look through the objective eyes of wisdom, as if you’re a detective, curiously asking what might have conditioned this behaviour?

What’s the felt sense, the need that’s driving this behaviour?

What was hurting, what’s the unmet need?

This is looking at ourselves with kindness.

Tara ends with her meditative inquiry with a poem by Diana Faulds, which I’ve heard time and time again, and that’s because it bears repeating until it sinks in:

Awakening

Why wait for your awakening?
Do you value your reasons for staying small
more than the light shining through the open door?
Forgive yourself,
Forgive yourself.
Now is the only time you have to be whole.
Now.
Now is the sole moment that exists to live in the light of your true nature
Perfection is not a prerequisite for anything but pain.
Perfection is not a prerequisite for anything but pain.
Please, oh please, don’t continue to believe
in your stories of deficiency and failure.
This is the day of your awakening.

― Danna Faulds, Go In and In: Poems From the Heart of Yoga