It was such a gorgeous day in San Francisco, no wind, no fog, just sunshine. I was on an adventure just 60 miles from my home. Although close, the city still felt like a different world. I loved these days; I’d hang out in the Marina usually at a bar with an upside down pig as its logo. All the twenty and thirty somethings, career bound and city struck, would crowd around the wood and glass. I’d sit there with my strawberry ambrosia, watching the people around me, writing in my journal and catching bits of conversations that whirled about the room.
I often sat at the bar because its very nature invited chit chat amongst strangers. I felt liberated from all that I knew as I threw myself into the throng of the unknown. On this particular day, two young women began to include me in their discussion. It was an easy conversation and much joy to be had. They were celebrating a promotion of one of the girls, Lucy. It was exciting to move up the ladder in one’s career especially when it came with a huge financial incentive.
As we spoke, I noticed Lucy incessantly glancing down at her phone. Every minute or pause in the conversation had her checking the glossy screen. She looked surprised when I mentioned it and I chuckled wondering if she too had OCD tendencies. Her dear friend piped up that she was waiting for her “boyfriend” to call. The sneer in the word “boyfriend” made it clear that her friend did not approve. I felt bad for intruding.
I asked if he was meeting up with her; her shrugged shoulders and slight despondency answered my question. Clearly, I was intruding again. Slowly, Lucy explained, “I’m not sure what he is. We were seeing each other, but now, he wants an open relationship.” When I saw her face crumple under the weight of the truth, I felt nothing but compassion. Her friend, annoyed by this man, declared how he wasn’t worthy of her and how he strung her along for his own personal ego.
My face softened; my eyes glistened with the tears Lucy could not shed. I smiled and said something that she clearly needed to hear, “Girl, you are beautiful, successful and charming, well, that's how you come across in first impressions. Why with all that, why don’t you ask for more in your relationships?” I felt this maternal need to comfort. Embarrassed by the compliments, Lucy dropped her gaze to the floor, “It’s hard to believe that I deserve more. My father," pause, "he constantly puts me down." The fact that her girlfriend was shocked into silence made me feel more like an intruder. Damn, my heart simply hurt for her, She continued to tell her story and her father's. It was chalk full of tribulations.
I felt like a voyer, but so entranced with her story, I couldn't help but ask, “Do you see your father often?” She shook her head and whispered, “It’s too hard.” I nodded, “Sounds that way.” I paused for a moment and then continued, “You do know, how your father treats you has nothing to do with you. It’s how he was raised, probably under ridicule and like you, he believes it.” Her gaze slowly lifted from the floor; her eyes widened as she asked, “How did you know that? My father would become furious when my feelings were hurt because according to him, his parents were much worse. I have no idea how easy I've got it.” Softly, I replied, “And, he probably did have it worse. See, how we treat others is a reflection of ourselves. Your father believes he is less and therefore, that has become his filter with which he sees the world including those he loves.”
I looked Lucy in the eyes and asked, “Would you like to release yourself from your father’s insecurities?” Lucy and her friend nodded simultaneously. I grinned, “When you know where someone comes from, it's much easier to forgive them. Forgiveness isn’t about condoning another’s behavior. That's the most important thing to remember. It’s about releasing a negative situation and allowing yourself to move beyond the past and create a new future.” I stopped talking and allowed my words to sink in. The bar was deafening and yet stillness surrounded our intimate circle almost like some kind of protective bubble.
I could see the struggle in Lucy’s enormous brown eyes; her sculpted brows told the story of her doubt and finally, her inching smile illustrated that her struggle was over. “I want a new future. I do need to forgive him.” My smile broadened. I could feel the release.
Lucy’s phone flickered and vibrated. She gazed down. Her smile reached her eyes. Her friend asked with an accusatory tone, “Is it him?” She shrugged and said, “Him who?” She hit the power button and the phone abruptly turned black. The three of us fell into a spell of laughter and mirth, spilling over from our souls and filling the bar with a dizzying freedom that healed us all.
This is actually a true story of a random conversation that I had. During this time, I was experiencing forgiveness on so many different levels so my advice came from my own recent reflections. I don’t actually know if Lucy ever forgave her father, but what I do know is that Lucy recognized for the first time that she doesn’t have to be defined by others and that’s a great start.
“Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.” -Tony Robbins
