Navigating a Whackadoodle World: Episode 66, The Power of Contribution and Compensation, or Something to try when you can't let go of your anger.
A Whackadoodle lesson about the dangers of imagining the worst and holding stuff in, along with a little advice from Mark Twain and Abraham Lincoln.
“So, I’ve been thinking a lot this week about guidepost nine.” She had her chin in her hands, leaning on the book strewn table before her. “I realize that contribution and compensation says that life reflects what we give out. We give out anger, and we’re likely to get anger back. But what if you can’t help but feel angry? What if you can’t find it in you to give out forgiveness?”
Her question came out of the blue at the end of our tutoring session, so I figured there had to be a reason for her musing. Something more than curiosity. “Are you thinking about someone in particular?”
“Well, yeah, I am thinking about somebody, but it’s been months since the blow out. It’s technically over, so I should be able to get past it. But I can’t. Every time I’m reminded of it, I can feel myself getting pissed all over again.” She sent me a look of warning before adding, “And don’t go telling me to just not get reminded of it because I’ve already tried that and it doesn’t work.”
“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting anything so trite.” I raised my hands in innocents.
“Yeah, right,” she rolled her eyes before sinking back into gloom.
“So?” I prompted, waiting. She made no comment. I tried again. “Did you want to share more about this blowout you’re not able to forgive?”
I could see her mind ticking away, deciding what she was prepared to share. Finally she sat back and asked, “Have you ever had anybody that you thought was a friend? That you thought really understood and liked you, only to one day you discover that they hold you in complete contempt and have been talking crap about you behind your back for years?”
“Whoa,” the question was asked so bluntly; I really had to think back. “I suppose I can think of a few kids in high school that were a bit like that.”
She didn’t respond to my comment, but simply continued in her distress. “The worst part is that she’s still out there, talking and believing crap about me; and that other people are believing that crap; and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, or change it, or clear things up.”
“Hang on a moment,” I needed to ask, “Are you upset because the crap’s true, or because it’s not true?”
That question got her rattled, if not a tad bit testy. “Does it make a difference?”
“Sure,” I nodded. “It makes a big difference. If it’s true, you may be having trouble forgiving her because you don’t like what she’s seen. If that’s the case, you need to take a hard look at yourself. If it’s not true, you’re probably having trouble forgiving her because she’s formed an unjustified opinion about you and has been spreading that opinion around. So which do you think it is?”
She thought back hard, “I suppose some of it may have a grain of truth, but a lot of the stuff’s either completely misconstrued or outright lies.”
“Like what?”
“She told me, among other things, that I’m lazy, selfish, ungrateful, and a word that rhymes with witch. She says that I use people, that my Daddy spoils me, and that I take advantage of him. Sure, my Dad and I are close, but I don’t think I take advantage of him. We help each other out, that’s all. I mean, isn’t that what families do? Besides, what’s between me and my Dad is none of her business. Oh, and did you know that I am totally ungrateful because she’s always doing things for me and I never show my appreciation? I didn’t ask her to do them, did I? Plus, half the stuff she did, I didn’t even want her to do. Like the time she decided to clean my house by throwing out a bunch of my stuff. And now, I find out that she’s all full of opinions about me, and none of them nice.” She looked at me, tense with frustration. “Do you know anybody like that? People who take just about everything you do or say as a personal affront?”
My mind flashed back to a moment in my own life when my Dad and I had been talking privately about the possibility of selling our family home. In reality, we had been discussing climate change and how we should be prepare for the changes ahead. He was worried about sea level rise and expected our family home to eventually become uninsurable, basically telling me that our water front property should be sold before that happened because an uninsurable property becomes pretty much worthless. Good advice, but my well-meaning sister in the other room didn’t hear that part. She’d only heard the part about selling the family home. She entered our conversation fully incensed. Nobody would ever sell her family home!!!! The intensity of her reaction shocked us both into silence. There was no calming her down, or explaining. There was only listening to her anger and resentment pour out.
“Let’s just say that I can imagine situations like that,” I replied to my waiting student. “And I think that I’m getting a picture of why you’re having trouble letting it go.” I sat back to gather my thoughts. “I don’t think you're all that upset because of what she believes about you. Seems to me, you’ve already ‘had that out with her’ in this blow out you mentioned. I think you’re upset because you’re afraid of what others might believe because of what she’s told them about you. Plus, if she is still spreading crap about you, then it’s unfinished business. It’s particularly hard to forgive and forget when you have unfinished business.”
She sat with her hands on her hips, frowning, as if trying to decide if I had gotten it right. At last she asked, “So how do I finish the business?”
“Well,” I considered. “First, I would remind you that we often imagine things are worse than they really are. Which reminds me, how did your psychology test go?”
Her eyes blinked several times at my abrupt change in topic. “I’ve haven’t got the result back yet, but I think I did okay.”
“So you remember what you learned about pessimism bias?”
A light dawn in her eyes as she made the connection. “So you think that I’m projecting an outcome that is worse than it is. That people aren’t out there talking smack about me?”
“It’s certainly possible,” I nodded. “You won’t know until you you know.”
“But how will I find out?”
“Have you spoken with them?”
“No,” she admitted without looking up.
“Too afraid of what you’ll discover?”
“Probably.”
“No wonder you’re having trouble letting go.” I sat up straighter. “The only way I know to defeat fear is to face it head on. You have to reach out to the people who matter to you even if you’re afraid of what they might be thinking.”
“You mean go tell them my side of the story?”
“No, that’s not necessary. That would just be dredging up old wounds and muddying the waters. No, I’m thinking something more like a call, or a note, or a visit with the people who might have heard this person talking smack, and if the subject comes up, simply telling them that you’d prefer they form their own opinion about you without listening to what others may have told them. If nothing else, ask them to consider both sides of any story before forming an opinion.”
She looked uncertain, “So I shouldn’t bring it up?”
“No, I don’t think so. You don’t want to drag your other friends into the mess, or ask them to take sides. Simply be yourself. Eventually your actions will speak louder than her words. If it does come up, you might offer to give your side of the story, but only if it does come up. It might be enough to simply say, ‘Yeah, I know she talks crap about me. I’ve learned to ignore it.’ Then let them think what they will. The most important thing is not to let your fear what what other people might be saying color your decisions or actions, okay?”
“I’ll try,” she said eventually.
I couldn’t stand the look on her face; it was so tired and dejected. “There is something else you might try. I can’t guarantee that it will help, but I know it won’t hurt.”
“What’s that?” she looked a tad hopeful.
“Try writing a letter that you don’t plan to send.”
“Huh?”
“It’s something Abraham Lincoln used to do whenever he got angry and couldn’t let stuff go. In fact, the art of the unsent angry letter has a long tradition. Abraham Lincoln’s letter to General Mead after the battle of Gettysburg happens to be one of the most famous. In it, he accuses Mead of allowing Lee to escape across the river and prolonging the war indefinitely. In fact, in some ways he’s accusing Mead of negligence.”
“Wow,” she seemed intrigued. “And did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Prolong the war out of negligence.”
“We’ll never know, but we do know that Lincoln thought he did.”
“And Lincoln never sent the letter?”
“Nope. It was found among other ‘never sent letters’ after he was assassinated. And he’s not the only one who believed in the value of what he called the hot letter. Mark Twain called the practice an emotional and strategic catharsis and a way to let out feelings without the repercussions of true engagement, allowing people to express their thoughts with ‘unallowable frankness & freedom.’”
“Humm,” she sank deep into thought.
“It’s a form of of venting,” I continued, struggling to find the right words. “Of having your say, of feeling heard, of remembering what happened, of clearing your mind. Once you’ve written it, you put it aside. You wait. You look at it a few days later and ask yourself, ‘Will sending this letter do anything to improve the situation, or will it only make it worse?’ Nine times out of ten, you’ll realize that sending it would only make things worse, but you’ll still have the letter. You have a record of your thoughts and actions. You’ve still had your say. It might bring a sense of closure.”
“And it would allow me to move on?” she said, It was half statement, half question.
“Like I said, might help, wouldn’t hurt. Plus,” I added with a snide laugh, “A written record of the incident might come in handy if it ever came to court.”
"Court?” she echoed, startled.
“I’m joking,” I assured her, although in truth, I was half serious. “Hang on,” I reached for my iPhone. “Lincoln’s letter is worth a read.” A few clicks later, and she was reading it…
From Abraham Lincoln to George G. Meade [Draft], July 14, 1863
Executive Mansion,
Washington, July 14, 1863.Major General Meade
I have just seen your despatch to Gen. Halleck, asking to be relieved of your command, because of a supposed censure of mine-- I am very -- very -- grateful to you for the magnificent success you gave the cause of the country at Gettysburg; and I am sorry now to be the author of the slightest pain to you-- But I was in such deep distress myself that I could not restrain some expression of it-- I had been oppressed nearly ever since the battles at Gettysburg, by what appeared to be evidences that your self, and Gen. Couch, and Gen. Smith, were not seeking a collision with the enemy, but were trying to get him across the river without another battle. What these evidences were, if you please, I hope to tell you at some time, when we shall both feel better. The case, summarily stated is this. You fought and beat the enemy at Gettysburg; and, of course, to say the least, his loss was as great as yours-- He retreated; and you did not; as it seemed to me, pressingly pursue him; but a flood in the river detained him, till, by slow degrees, you were again upon him. You had at least twenty thousand veteran troops directly with you, and as many more raw ones within supporting distance, all in addition to those who fought with you at Gettysburg; while it was not possible that he had received a single recruit; and yet you stood and let the flood run down, bridges be built, and the enemy move away at his leisure, without attacking him. And Couch and Smith! The latter left Carlisle in time, upon all ordinary calculation, to have aided you in the last battle at Gettysburg; but he did not arrive-- More At the end of more than ten days, I believe twelve, under constant urging, he reached Hagerstown from Carlisle, which is not an inch over fifty-five miles, if so much. And Couch's movement was very little different--
Again, my dear general, I do not believe you appreciate the magnitude of the misfortune involved in Lee's escape-- He was within your easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection with the our other late successes, have ended the war-- As it is, the war will be prolonged indefinitely. If you could not safely attack Lee last Monday, how can you possibly do so South of the river, when you can take with you very few more then two thirds of the force you then had in hand? It would be unreasonable to expect, and I do not expect you can now effect much. Your golden opportunity is gone, and I am distressed immeasurably because of it--
I beg you will not consider this a prosecution, or persecution of yourself-- As you had learned that I was dissatisfied, I have thought it best to kindly tell you why.
[ Endorsed on Envelope by Lincoln:]
To Gen. Meade, never sent, or signed.
Sources: Lincoln's Unsent Letter to George Meade | American Battlefield Trust
See actual Letter at the Library of Congress
“What do you think?” I asked as she looked up.
“He misspelled dispatch,” was her first comment.
“And the United States Constitution spells the word choose, c-h-u-s-e. Spelling was much more creative back then.”
She ignored me and added, “Any letter I wrote wouldn’t be nearly as polite. I might even include a list of all the things that went missing while she was house sitting.”
“Oh yeah,” I sad. “Absolutely include that.”
“I think I’ll try it,” she said at last.
“And reach out to your other friends? Give them a little love, so you can get a little love back?
“I’ll let you know,” she said and began packing up.
I think I may have heard of the Lincoln letter long ago but not in the context of the “never sent letter.” That I had not heard of. I am going to try working through a problem I have. I’ll using my personal journal.
I hope it can help me think through a similar situation in my own life. The process may even help me improve a relationship that is very important to me.
As you say, “It can’t hurt and It may help.”
I’ll also take your advice to reach visit my friends in person if possible. if distance makes 1 on 1 impossible, I’ll use a zoom.