Forgiveness

The moment we forgive ourselves for everything, our healing begins.

Early one Sunday morning in Februrary, 2020, I wrote a long journal entry after meditating on the word FORGIVE. On the pages of my journal, my spirit guide (who I nicknamed Gg, for “God guide”) engaged me in this eye-opening conversation:

So I ask myself: have I truly forgiven myself for the damage I have done — and, for some reason, continue to do — to my poor, abused, but still lovely face?

My answer: I don’t think so. I have forgiven my mother for her role in my angst. But what about my own forgiveness? Eww… I’m wrinkling my nose at the thought, as if it smells like the pit beneath an outhouse.

Okay, then! Let’s work on that, shall we?

Yes, Gg, I’m willing. As you know, I am willing to do literally ANYTHING in order to heal from my OCD/skin picking habit. I’m listening. What must I do in order to forgive myself for a lifetime of self-abuse?

Do you believe that you can, and should, be forgiven?

I find myself answering, “Well, I want to…” But I’m also hearing that famous Yoda quote: “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” If I substitute “forgive” for “try,” this quote would say, “Forgive, or forgive not. There is no ‘want to’.”

Okay! Okay, okay, okay. I choose to forgive myself. I can choose to “do” rather than “do not” forgive. Now, how do I do that? What must I do that I’m not doing?

Let’s start by putting into words what, exactly, you’re forgiving.

Well, for decades I’ve blamed my skin for being abnormal; defective somehow, because it continues to break out. More recently, I’ve come to realize that it’s not my skin itself that is to blame but rather my thoughts about it. My reaction to the breakouts is extreme: Attack! Eradicate! Destroy the bumps, even at the cost of scarring. Then I freak out and get even madder about my inability to stop, even though I know exactly what the outcome will be. I know I shouldn’t attack my face and I want to stop but I just can’t seem to break the chain of events from unfolding once I feel a bump under my fingers.

So, I ask you again: what, exactly, do you choose to forgive? You’re no longer blaming your angst on your mother or any other outer circumstance. Everything surrounding your thoughts about your skin and your OCD is internal, is it not?

Yes. Absolutely. The very nature of OCD is thought-produced. I get that.

So, can you forgive your thoughts? The ones that react every time you feel a bump on your face?

Huh? How do I forgive my thoughts? Usually, when you forgive, you forgive something or someone because they’ve harmed you.

Well? Haven’t your thoughts harmed you? The aftermath of the harm is all over your face.

Ouch. I’m trying to squelch the screaming in my head…

Breathe.

Okay… I’m breathing… In for five, out for eight... Now I’ll breathe normally, but more deeply and slowly… Okay, I’ve calmed down…

If you understand now that your thoughts about your bumps are what have harmed you, can you put some different thoughts in their place?

‘Oh sure,’ I say, sarcastically. I scoff at the idea because I’ve tried this again and again but it only works temporarily. And it’s frustrating as HELL to keep trying something that doesn’t seem to work!

I want, with all my heart and soul, to stop this ridiculous habit. This awful, horrible, debilitating pattern of self-abuse! Do you hear me? Does God hear me? I WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING in the entire world to get past this! To heal, finally, and stay healed for the rest of my life.

This journal entry continued for another page or two, but I never got around to answering Gg’s last question.

It wasn’t until three years later that I first heard the word dermatillomania and learned that it was a mental disorder. That’s when I finally understood that my “habit” wasn’t all my fault. That’s when it became okay to forgive my thoughts and their subsequent actions. And that’s when my healing began.

Healing begins when you start forgiving yourself — for everything.