My mother was a certifiable train-wreck who was both verbally and emotionally abusive, and in today’s would have lost her children due to neglect. She also allowed her two daughters to be sexually abused: she not only set up the situation initially, but continued actively encouraging unsupervised interactions that any sane parent would avoid. Who tries to FORCE their 7 and 10 year old daughters to go on a camping trip with an adult male relative and a few of his adult, male friends? My mother.
Then, when I finally came clean about the abuse as an adult, her initial reaction was, “Oh, poor John.” As if HE was the one abused and not the abuser.
Her cursing me up and down for LITERALLY spilling milk; calling my father every name in the book and his girlfriend a whore while she was having an affair with a married man who wasn’t separated; never once putting her children’s needs over her own desires; and lying to her children (NOT to protect them, but to protect herself – and continuing long after they were adults) on far too many occasions to count was status quo. The list goes on and on.
Naturally, there came a point when, as an adult, I felt I deserved an apology. Actually, many apologies, but I would have settled for one sincere, “I was a horrible mother and I’m so sorry.”
Of course, I didn’t get it. I even went as far as to totally stop all communication with her. Her response?
“What do you want from me? An apology? Okay, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For whatever you seem to think I did wrong.”
Shaking. My. Head.
It finally dawned on me. The problem with expecting someone to apologize is that YOU are expecting it of them. A true apology has to start with them, not you. They have to actually see the things they did wrong and truly feel bad about it. This is why making amends is the ninth, essential step for AA. It takes eight previous steps for an alcoholic or addict to be ready to truthfully understand and fully acknowledge how their actions and behaviors negatively impacted others – and honestly regret it.
My mother never did. And she never will.
At the age of 80, she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. She was suddenly this frail, crippled old woman who told me honestly, “I don’t remember much anymore.”
So, I decided to accept an apology. One I never got. I let go of my anger, and I forgave her. And you know what?
I won. The burden that was lifted from my spirit and soul was simply incredible. And when she passes, I won’t have to worry about having any guilt for leaving things between us as they were.
Now, I hug her when I see her and tell her I love her. I reach out on holidays. And I’m the one who feels better. And sleeps better. And, I think, is even a nicer, kinder person.
You aren’t always going to get the apologies you deserve. In fact, most of the time you probably won’t. But holding on to that grudge? It eats you alive. And you suffer far more than whoever you are angry with.
To paraphrase the Buddhaghoṣa, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal to strike another; you are the one who gets burned.”
