Forgiveness

I've been talking with a couple of friends recently about infidelity. Across my conversations with both of them, the thing that echoed in the back of my mind was the matter of forgiveness. More specifically, I have been thinking about the fact that forgiveness central to the restoration of trust which is the foundation on which the relationship going forward will be built.

The question, then, is: how do we come to forgiveness?

In the course of writing my dissertation, I came across a chapter written by Tedeschi and Nesler (1993) that talked about how people work through being on the wrong end of someone else's bad behavior. Their model had a couple of additions, but the essence of what they argued was this:

• First, a betrayal is committed (after all, without a betrayal, there is no need for forgiveness)
• Second, a responsible party is identified as having committed the betrayal
• Third, the responsible party accepts ownership for commission of the betrayal
• Fourth, the responsible party makes some reparation for the betrayal
• Finally, the person who was betrayed moves toward forgiveness

So in plain English: someone does something wrong to someone else. The person who did wrong has to own what s/he did wrong and attempt to make up for the wrong-doing in a way that is roughly proportional to the original betrayal.

What I love about this model is that it expects that the person who committed the wrong-doing to take responsibility for him/herself and try to fix it. Now, seeing as we can't get into a DeLorean and go back in time to the moment just before we made a wrong choice, what can we do (or avoid) to take responsibility for a major betrayal we have committed against someone we love?

I've got some thoughts on that: 

1. Apologize. For heaven's sake, apologize. And not one of these perfunctory, I'm-apologizing-because-it's-the-socially-appropriate-thing-to-do-but-I'm-not-really-sorry-and-I'll-likely-do-it-again apologies. No. Like a legit statement of recognition of wrong doing and a sincere display of remorse for what you've done and the hurt the other person is feeling because of it.

2. Don't confess unless you expect the relationship to end. Okay, so now we get into some ethical gray area about whether a betrayal that your partner wouldn't know about unless you confessed it should be confessed at all. I am not prepared to get that dirty right now. What I am prepared to say, though, is that if you know you violated a major relational rule, you should should expect there to be negative consequences. One of these consequences may very well be a loss of the relationship. If your partner doesn't want to be with you as a result of your betrayal, you have to deal with that as a foreseeable outcome of your actions. What you don't get to do is accuse your partner of being crazy, irrational, unreasonable, unfair, blah blah blah if that's what s/he decides is necessary and/or appropriate.

3. Don't give more information than you're asked for. One of my rules for existing as a human being is to never ask a question that you don't want to know the honest answer to. I would amend that rule to say that if a person tells you that they don't want to know, then don't tell them. You have to understand that you just confessed to a major betrayal. That is a lot to deal with unto itself without a barrage of information coming at your partner that they aren't even sure they want to know. What's more, is that chances are that you're being ultra-disclosive for one of two reasons: either you are trying to unburden your conscience or you're trying to get your partner to break up with you. Neither helping you feel less guilty nor giving you a way out of initiating a break up conversation is your partner's responsibility in this situation.

4. Don't berate, belittle, or insult yourself. Yes, you probably feel like a big pile of poo if you genuinely feel remorse for your betrayal and if you really do want to mend your relationship. And you might really, truly honestly feel like you have nothing to say except to call yourself names. I'm telling you, though, find something else to say. If you insult yourself you're trying to beat your partner to the punch - if you call yourself a(n) [insert your favorite ugly insult here], your partner has no reason to also call you a(n) [see previous insult]. This may seem like a harmless self-protective thing to do, but it's a problem because your partner, if s/he loves you, will feel the need to reassure you that you aren't whatever insult you've called yourself. Let me put that differently: you (the betrayer) are asking your partner (whom you have just confessed to betraying) to console and comfort you in response to your well-deserved guilt. That's an awfully manipulative thing for you to be doing if you've just confessed to a major relational violation. 

5.  Don't ask your partner how they want your betrayal made up to him/her. Like alleviating your guilt, or ending the relationship you didn't want, this puts work and responsibility on your partner for repairing something s/he didn't break. You should be thinking to yourself "how can I prove I love him/her?" and then go do it. I'd like to point out that buying flowers or candy or funding shopping sprees or bringing home puppies are not expressions of love. On a good day, they are gestures of affection. If they come following a betrayal, they are small and trite and comically insignificant as compared to a major betrayal. You may have to prove your love by being willing to give something up in order to invest more in your relationship.

As is always the case, this list isn't by any means exhaustive. It is, however, a compilation of some of the major missteps I've witnessed people making in the course of confessing betrayals to their loved ones.

In the end, you can avoid all of this by really truly trying, every day of your life, not to suck. 
 

References

Tedeschi, J. T., & Nesler, M. S. (1993). Grievances: Development and reactions. Aggression and Violence: Social Interactionist Perspectives. Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association.