I wonder if Anon is trying to do something she is not ready to do. Many Psychoanalysts don't really believe in the possibility of true forgiveness because the unconscious never forgets, so any forgiveness lives alongside anger within the unconscious and the best we can hope for is a kind of ambivalence.
Forgiveness anyway can only be properly achieved when the act of mourning is completed and integrated. If we tell ourselves we have forgiven before this is complete we are bypassing the vital work of mourning loss. Being encouraged to forgive too early can re traumatise.
A famous psychiatrist, DW Winnicott (famous for the phrase ‘the good enough mother’ and for exploring the use of ‘transitional objects’ and ‘transitional space’). Said that forgiveness can only come when we are in a certain transitional space when it just happens and is a by product of the way we are living our lives. So the work of forgiveness and compassion is not to focus on forgiveness because it is forced, but to work on living in a certain way with the support of community etc until it happens naturally.
Forgiveness with the purpose of surreptitious empowerment of the victim should not be done, otherwise it is false and avoids dealing with grief.
Here is a short excerpt from an essay I’m reading by C.Fred Alford from a journal of psychoanalysis
Probably the most significant psychoanalytic contribution to forgiveness is to see it as one possible outcome of grief and mourning over loss. As Salman Akhtar (2002, pp. 200, 206) argues, while the capacity for forgiveness is necessary for psychic growth, this capacity is the result of analytic work leading to an ability to successfully grieve and mourn. Forgiveness is not a pathway by which we learn to grieve and mourn, even as forgiveness and mourning may eventually reinforce each other. The ability to mourn loss comes first. From this ability the capacity for forgiveness is born. When and how we grant forgiveness is a matter of cultivation and culture. Forgiveness is the outcome of successful mourning. Not a necessary outcome, but a possible one.
Judith Butler makes the good point that we fight not only against the finality of loss, but the transformation to the self that must follow once we accept this loss. Generally this loss is of another person to whom we are deeply attached, but it may be to an idea about ourselves, or about the world. As Butler (2004) puts it,
On one level, I think I have lost ‘you’ only to discover that ‘I’ have gone missing as well. At another level, perhaps what I have lost ‘in’ you, that for which I have no ready vocabulary, is a relationality that is neither merely myself nor you, but the tie by which those terms are differentiated and related. (p. 22)
In mourning, we mourn for the loss of those parts of ourselves that are lost forever (or so it seems, and it is often true) with the loss of the other, for they were located in the interperson.
This, suggests Frommer (2005, p. 42), is the reason why we long to forgive.
Perhaps this is why when we struggle to forgive, the recognition of what has been done to us and the expression of remorse from the person who has done it feel so much like a lifeline; the other's acknowledgment allows for the possibility that we may preserve the self we have known in relation to them; that we don't need to mourn its passing.
This raises a hope that is also a troubling possibility: that the greatest risk of forgiveness, the reason for its current popularity, and resultant misuse, is that it hints at the possibility that we can “let go” without mourning what we have lost. Forgiveness becomes mourning manqué, acceptance without grief.
Frommer's hint of a conjecture, that forgiveness might allow us to bypass grief and go straight to acceptance, because forgiveness allows us to maintain a relationship to the one who has hurt us, allowing us to keep that part of ourselves that knows itself only in relationship to that person, is not applicable to all who offer forgiveness that is out of place. While not a general theory of popular forgiveness, Frommer's conjecture is one way of accounting for the current fascination with forgiveness.
Popular forgiveness is forgiveness which offers something for nothing, acceptance of loss without mourning and grief. I can keep my attachments and let them go at the same time. All I have to do is forgive the one who has victimized me so that I can “let go” of my hate and loss without mourning the loss of those parts of myself by which I knew myself in relationship to my victimizer.
Rabbi Harold Kushner, well‐known author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People, told a parishioner “I'm asking you to forgive because [your husband] doesn't deserve the power to live in your head and turn you into a bitter, angry woman” (Wiesenthal, 1997, p. 176). Kushner seems to be telling his parishioner to forgive her husband so she can liberate herself from her angry attachment to him. What he does not tell her, what he seems unprepared to tell her, is that lacking her angry attachment to her husband she will finally have to mourn his loss.
I think it’s ok to be ambivalent; that we are not failures if we are slow to forgive and that we have to give grieving our loss as much attention as we are able to bear. I wonder if the effort to understand and struggle with forgiveness is a kind of bypass of the hard, long work of grieving?