How to Forgive a Murderer

New TSB pod about how to forgive the unforgivable. Jim Harrison. Check-In reminder. App survey! New tunes.

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These Sunday posts are mostly paywalled. But I don't want to exclude anyone, so if the cost is prohibitive or you wish to send TSB to someone you love, contact me. I'll happily pass along a free annual subscription to those who need it most.

On with the Sunday. — AJD

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We've written about the concept of forgiveness — especially self-forgiveness — dozens of times here. I get closer to understanding its power each time I revisit it. Forgiveness is essential for sobriety and living an unburdened life, but the problem, for me, has been that forgiveness seemed too abstract and churchy to grasp — without any actionable plan outside of dropping to your knees and praying at your bedside in full-throated desperation, what else can be done?

If you've listened to this week's TSB podcast episode, you'll discover how much work it takes to forgive someone and the transformation that needs to occur. It's an episode with writer/director Cory Reeder, whose story I heard in the rooms over the years, but I'd never understood his entire trajectory.

A brief synopsis: When Cory was 12 years old, his 22-year-old sister was raped and murdered. The man who did it was captured and sent away to prison in Oregon for a life sentence. There was a conviction but no closure — not for Cory, at least.

In our interview, he describes the suffocating influence of this man — his personal "Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Freddy Krueger" — over his life for more than 30 years.

He was the reason I didn't get jobs. He was the reason I got bad grades. He was why I didn't get the girls I wanted to date. He was the reason why I drank and did drugs, took drugs, let drugs take me. He was everything. He was everything to me. He was the ultimate excuse in my life for not having to be accountable — or take responsibility for my actions.

After listening to the first cut of the recording, I commented to TSB's producer, Lauren, that it sounded like I was breathing heavier than usual. Was I too close to the mic?

"Your levels were fine. I think maybe this was just your emotional response. I remember you had your head in your hands and were doing a lot of deep breathing."

It's an emotional, vibrating story, and I know some graphic details may cause you to have your own emotional response. Keep in mind, though, that Cory is simply walking us through his process, emphasizing what the stakes were for him — how hard he worked this step to free himself and save his own life.

"I carried the shame, blame, resentment, hatred, self-pity, like every negative emotion I carried. At 35 years old, I finally got to the point where I said, I'm out of choices; I'm out of options. And on my sister's birthday, on her death anniversary, during holidays, when her memory came back to me, and it was sad; it was a sorrow beyond dreams. I was tired, and I wanted to put that sack down. And I said, what's left?"

I got back very early yesterday from my uncle's service, a four-flight, 40-hour Philadelphia excursion. During the hours-long eating and consoling ceremony and burial, I realized half the people probably wouldn’t be able to show up to this particular funeral unless they could forgive. Maybe even more than half.

I will keep that as a goal for my second half of life — forgive, forgive, forgive, especially family. I haven't mastered or fully integrated the actions and faith needed to radicalize and revitalize forgiveness because there was always a block, and I felt like I was only capable of advancing so far forward without bumping into that block. Then, someone like Cory appears, and then breaking through becomes possible. There is more work to do, and it is necessary.

— AJD

A reminder — it's time for March Check-Ins. We want to know how you're living. Tell us what's up with your recovery or anything else noteworthy. The good, the great, the awful, the insane. We want it all.

If you'd like to participate, we'd love to have you. Please help us help you help everyone.

The perfect length is 150-300 words. Here's a great one that just came through a couple days ago:

After smoking fentanyl with a cute guy I met in rehab, I got kicked out of my IOP program, and I also got clean. I'll have a year sober this week for the first time since middle school. I did it all the right way, too. I got a sponsor and worked the steps. I made my lists of resentments and character defects and amends. I picked up meeting commitments, gave rides, and took all my medications, and I'll celebrate with my home group at the end of the month. I've spent the past 4 years trying to get sober over and over again and relapsing after a few months each time. I told myself the AA Promises would start coming true if I finally got 12 months clean. It's something I've been motivating myself with for years now. On a very surface level, I suppose they have. But like — what now? I feel so incredibly lost. I know the next step is to start sponsoring, but who am I to guide someone forward? I could veer off the road at any minute. I've done everything right, by the literal and metaphorical book, but I still kind of feel like a fraud.

EMAIL US HERE: tsbcheckins@thesmallbow.com

SUBJECT: MARCH CHECK-IN

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