Brooke, this was a beautiful post. I loved how you extend your heart to people you disagree with and how you publicly modeled apology and repair. (And then do it again by retelling the story here).
I've been writing about estrangement and reconciliation for more than twenty years now, and have published two books on the subject, yet I still struggle with it in my day to day life, even in my own home. It is an ongoing challenge for me to keep an open heart when I'm hurt and to apologize. It is one of my ongoing spiritual practices, learning to apologize with generosity and no excuses attached.
In particular, I wanted to highlight this line:
"We have so few models of repair in our society right now. Our administration’s symbol of strength and change is a literal chainsaw. It’s hard to imagine something being in deeper contrast to kintsugi than that."
Also, what a great book review--you sold me on reading Jen Knox's book, so thank you for that!
P.S. I have kintsugi woven into the cover of my memoir, too, though many people don't recognize it for what it is. I always love when they do. It was the last element to be added to the design, and I'm so glad it was!
Thanks for this beautiful share, Laura. These subjects are so difficult and that's why I was so impressed by Free, by Knox's constant effort to lean in, even when she didn't get what she wanted. A true inspiration. And I love that you have kintsugi on your cover. It's a beautiful metaphor. Posting our interview on Write-minded here to encourage people to know more about your beautiful memoir! https://podcast.shewrites.com/the-staying-power-of-the-mother-daughter-story/
Laura, I just discovered your book "I Thought We'd Never Speak Again," and am using it as I attempt reconciliation with my mother after a five year estrangement. Thank you for all the work you've done in this space!
Debbie, I wish you the very best on your journey. As you know from my story, told in my memoir, The Burning Light of Two Stars, it was a very long, winding, complex, imperfect process of reconciliation--and a lot of it was done inside myself. I guess the thing I want to say is that what matters the most is you coming to a state of resolution and peace with what is and what cannot be. Many of us dream of the fantastic violins-soaring deathbed reconciliation scene where everything is sorted and forgiven. But that is extremely rare. Reconciliation is usually a messy, incomplete, complicated journey that often starts with an acceptance of another damaged or broken human being. I had plenty of years of rage and distance from my mother--they were essential parts of me becoming a separate adult person. In my case, anyway, without the long estrangement, no reconciliation would have been possible.
I so deeply appreciated this post. I am one such author, in that I have written a memoir that addresses these themes. Here is where I've landed: I think the work of forgiveness and repair depends on the level of wrongdoing. When it comes to catastrophic wrongdoing, that has, say, lifelong consequences, the process of forgiveness is lifelong, and depending on whether the person who has done the wrongdoing is alive or not, I would even go so far as to say that the work of repair is lifelong, as well. None of this is to say that you can't forgive someone and still decide to end the relationship, just to say that to forgive and stay *in* relationship (which this post addresses), often requires some degree of ongoing repair work, just as the forgiveness work is ongoing. Here is something else: I think we have far greater capacity to forgive all degree of harms than we, as a society, understand, but it's up to us to do the work to reclaim our shared humanity, which is needed if we are going to stay in relationship with each other. No doubt, all of this requires courage and grace and a healthy dose of distress tolerance. Can we do it? I have hope, but still this remains to be seen. I'm glad Amanda's story is receiving recognition. I was a year behind her at UW and in my first quarter there when everything went down in Italy. I also hope other (non-celebrity) memoirs of forgiveness and humanizing others can also make their way into the world, too.
This is a valuable and important distinction—so thank you, Mirella. I completely agree and have worked with many memoirists for whom the very notion of "forgiveness" is absolutely off the table, and when it comes to abuse and victimization, I concur it's not on the victim to apologize. And at the same time I found it very touching how Amanda keeps coming back to allow her prosecutor space to learn, to take in her side of the story. It's all very heart-opening. I would not have felt the same if he were her sexual or physical abuser. . . Thank you, Mirella!
In my experience, the repair that ultimately is most powerful is the repair/reconciliation we make inside ourselves in response to a wrong done to us, or the harm we caused to another person by our actions or words. It is from this internal repair that have I found the courage, humility or understanding, (or perhaps a mix of all three) to reach out to make amends, or attempt to mend myself. A neat and tidy closure (an over- rated illusion in my opinion) is no longer my goal but acceptance of the complex reality of the situation needing repair is.
I'm delighted to hear of your repair, and beyond with Gina Frangello.
Brooke, I look forward to these very personal letters from you on Sunday mornings.
Thirty years ago, a therapist gave me the obvious answer to a question that had plagued me a long time. I had forgiven my mother for so many things, and yet, our relationship was still a mirage. He said, "Because forgiveness isn't reconciliation."
What if one of the most important things we ever do in life is to be the passive recipient of someone's transgression, giving them the opportunity to see themselves in that act, rue it, and change? What if it is just as important, in the vast universe of existence, that I'm an object lesson? Amanda Knox's prosecutor has the opportunity now to see the world from Amanda's perspective, to turnabout, and be a different person, a compassionate person, a person, like you, Brooke, who could see the mistake you made about Gina's book, and own up to that. I imagine you are a better person for having made that incredibly embarrassing admission than if you had never effed anything up.
I believe in setting boundaries; please don't think I'm someone's dishmop. But, there have been times in friendships and family where I have known, in a deep place, that someone I loved was going to push inside my boundaries, and I needed to let them. Because it was the only way they could confront their own demons. Those are painful times, times I would rather not experience. Times that the dominant advice of the day says we don't have to experience: take care of yourself, first and foremost.
Did my mother ever see the destruction in her wake, and learn from it? Alas, no. In writing my memoir (and I'm sorry if this sounds like a query letter, Brooke; it's not!) I sought that reconciliation most of my life, even after her death made it impossible. It was the kitchen, my years as a chef, that saved my life, allowed me to love myself, and let go of hope for a relationship with a woman who was just not capable of giving it. What I learned about myself in all that made me the hero of my own story. I wish she could have been along for the ride, the sweet reconciliation that can come after forgiveness. But that wasn't to be. I have accepted, however, that for a time in my life, I was an object lesson. And I'm OK with that.
Thank you for this beautiful rumination on my reflection and bringing out your own story and reflections in process, Kathy. What I'm seeing here is how we apply these subjects to our own relationships, and we likely need to ponder what fits and what doesn't. Reconciliation is for sure not always possible, and I'm glad you found it in other ways. ❤️
I began writing through the eyes of a hurt child. For me, the story I told myself wasn't the story that time, and reflection revealed. Eighteen years of digging into my own memories, researching the Chicago Syndicate and interviewing family, I inadvertently revealed my mother's story, which flipped my story's antagonist. And that ultimately made for a more interesting and complex story that brought me to a place of peace and forgiveness.
This is a beautiful post in so many ways. FAdmitting you're friends with folks across the political divide can be deemed heresy these days. Thanks for your courage there. And I love your relationship with Gina, a former teacher and certainly a mentor of mine.
A perfect & beautiful article. It takes so much courage to call ourselves out when we hurt someone, to admit our piece - our share - of the brokenness. Estrangement. To be willing to mend & repair … that’s exquisite;
we’re all so messy & imperfect - flawed. You are an exceptional example of grace. And yeah, Gina’s mighty wonderful. Thank you for this lesson in humanity. I love you deep.
This is a wonderful post. I learned of kintsugi when I was grieving the death of my partner. It is a beautiful concept. Thank you for the reminder of this practice. Kintsugi can be applied to so many instances, including our current environment. Forgiveness is powerful and if not practiced, one misses out on so many relationships. Peter Mayer wrote a song "Japanese Bowl" which is about kintsugi, the repair of brokenness with gold.
LOVE this post so much. Thank you for your courage and compassion, Brooke. I have been so disheartened lately seeing what feels to me like anger, bitterness, scapegoating, and a general lack of kindness and compassion coming from all sides. I work hard every day to live differently, despite what is swirling all around us. Love that you do too (and you made me want to read these books).
Dear Brooke, what a beautiful, insightful article! I thought I was a forgiving person until I had to forgive myself for just being human; I blamed myself for choosing an abusive partner ( it took me 30 years) to finally leave! Over the last five years I forgave my ex-husband and learned to see the world through a different lens; I also learned that I was not broken but repaired and stronger.
Ooof. I love this so much. What a beautiful post. As aomeone who apologizes a lot (probably a bit too much), I don’t understand people who have values that prevent them from ever apologizing. We all make mistakes, and accountability is such a beautiful thing. I’ll check out Amanda‘s book. As a white Seattleite woman myself who went overseas during college, her story has always intrigued me. Thanks for this.
Brooke, there's so much that hits home for me in this post. I have no problem admitting when I'm wrong and apologizing if I've hurt someone's feelings, even inadvertently. So many people cling to their intent rather than focus on their impact. That's when we hear (non)apologies like my late mother's, "I'm sorry you feel that way."
As for Trump voters and anti-Zionists: unless the former has had a spiritual awakening and sees the error of their ways, we cannot be friends. I wish them no ill will, but our values are just too misaligned.
For the latter, and as Jew who lost half my father's family during the Holocaust, I am in full agreement. Zionism is not Judaism, in fact it goes against the tenets of the religion and culture. What the Israelis are doing in Gaza is a genocide and I cannot pretend it's anything less. I have a hard time synching with hardcore Zionists, but I find most non-Israeli and non-Jewish pro-Zionists to be more emotional and less ideological about their views. We share common ground in our belief that there is humanity within all people.
In terms of repair, I make the most effort with my son. Parents are not perfect, and I play the part of mother and father. When I get emotional and am short tempered with my son, I always apologize when I get back to equilibrium. I want him to know that my behavior is never his fault. We become closer in the moments when we say "I'm sorry" without qualification.
❤️ Thanks for your perspective, Amy. I'm finding it helpful to turn it all over in my mind and in my heart. Clarity is good, and often the road to clarity is feeling conflicted, which is certainly how I feel about my very dear family friend who's a Trump voter. Not willing to let her go, and we have good conversations and I hold my ground. And that's clarifying for me too.
Brooke, thanks for the book recommendation and for sharing your story of repair. I just listened to you and Grant's excellent interview with Amanda Knox on your podcast, and I look forward to reading her book.
I love this so much, for all the reasons. Gina is a mutual friend, one of several friends we have in common, so I'm even more looking forward to meeting you at the Central Coast Writers Conference in the fall.
Brooke, this was a beautiful post. I loved how you extend your heart to people you disagree with and how you publicly modeled apology and repair. (And then do it again by retelling the story here).
I've been writing about estrangement and reconciliation for more than twenty years now, and have published two books on the subject, yet I still struggle with it in my day to day life, even in my own home. It is an ongoing challenge for me to keep an open heart when I'm hurt and to apologize. It is one of my ongoing spiritual practices, learning to apologize with generosity and no excuses attached.
In particular, I wanted to highlight this line:
"We have so few models of repair in our society right now. Our administration’s symbol of strength and change is a literal chainsaw. It’s hard to imagine something being in deeper contrast to kintsugi than that."
Also, what a great book review--you sold me on reading Jen Knox's book, so thank you for that!
P.S. I have kintsugi woven into the cover of my memoir, too, though many people don't recognize it for what it is. I always love when they do. It was the last element to be added to the design, and I'm so glad it was!
Thanks for this beautiful share, Laura. These subjects are so difficult and that's why I was so impressed by Free, by Knox's constant effort to lean in, even when she didn't get what she wanted. A true inspiration. And I love that you have kintsugi on your cover. It's a beautiful metaphor. Posting our interview on Write-minded here to encourage people to know more about your beautiful memoir! https://podcast.shewrites.com/the-staying-power-of-the-mother-daughter-story/
Thank you for that Brooke. So appreciated.
Laura, I just discovered your book "I Thought We'd Never Speak Again," and am using it as I attempt reconciliation with my mother after a five year estrangement. Thank you for all the work you've done in this space!
Debbie, I wish you the very best on your journey. As you know from my story, told in my memoir, The Burning Light of Two Stars, it was a very long, winding, complex, imperfect process of reconciliation--and a lot of it was done inside myself. I guess the thing I want to say is that what matters the most is you coming to a state of resolution and peace with what is and what cannot be. Many of us dream of the fantastic violins-soaring deathbed reconciliation scene where everything is sorted and forgiven. But that is extremely rare. Reconciliation is usually a messy, incomplete, complicated journey that often starts with an acceptance of another damaged or broken human being. I had plenty of years of rage and distance from my mother--they were essential parts of me becoming a separate adult person. In my case, anyway, without the long estrangement, no reconciliation would have been possible.
I so deeply appreciated this post. I am one such author, in that I have written a memoir that addresses these themes. Here is where I've landed: I think the work of forgiveness and repair depends on the level of wrongdoing. When it comes to catastrophic wrongdoing, that has, say, lifelong consequences, the process of forgiveness is lifelong, and depending on whether the person who has done the wrongdoing is alive or not, I would even go so far as to say that the work of repair is lifelong, as well. None of this is to say that you can't forgive someone and still decide to end the relationship, just to say that to forgive and stay *in* relationship (which this post addresses), often requires some degree of ongoing repair work, just as the forgiveness work is ongoing. Here is something else: I think we have far greater capacity to forgive all degree of harms than we, as a society, understand, but it's up to us to do the work to reclaim our shared humanity, which is needed if we are going to stay in relationship with each other. No doubt, all of this requires courage and grace and a healthy dose of distress tolerance. Can we do it? I have hope, but still this remains to be seen. I'm glad Amanda's story is receiving recognition. I was a year behind her at UW and in my first quarter there when everything went down in Italy. I also hope other (non-celebrity) memoirs of forgiveness and humanizing others can also make their way into the world, too.
This is a valuable and important distinction—so thank you, Mirella. I completely agree and have worked with many memoirists for whom the very notion of "forgiveness" is absolutely off the table, and when it comes to abuse and victimization, I concur it's not on the victim to apologize. And at the same time I found it very touching how Amanda keeps coming back to allow her prosecutor space to learn, to take in her side of the story. It's all very heart-opening. I would not have felt the same if he were her sexual or physical abuser. . . Thank you, Mirella!
Lovely article! Thank you, Brooke.
In my experience, the repair that ultimately is most powerful is the repair/reconciliation we make inside ourselves in response to a wrong done to us, or the harm we caused to another person by our actions or words. It is from this internal repair that have I found the courage, humility or understanding, (or perhaps a mix of all three) to reach out to make amends, or attempt to mend myself. A neat and tidy closure (an over- rated illusion in my opinion) is no longer my goal but acceptance of the complex reality of the situation needing repair is.
I'm delighted to hear of your repair, and beyond with Gina Frangello.
Beautifully said, Sunita! I agree wholeheartedly.
I think “Blow Your House Down” is the most searingly honest books I’ve ever read.
Me too!
Brooke, I look forward to these very personal letters from you on Sunday mornings.
Thirty years ago, a therapist gave me the obvious answer to a question that had plagued me a long time. I had forgiven my mother for so many things, and yet, our relationship was still a mirage. He said, "Because forgiveness isn't reconciliation."
What if one of the most important things we ever do in life is to be the passive recipient of someone's transgression, giving them the opportunity to see themselves in that act, rue it, and change? What if it is just as important, in the vast universe of existence, that I'm an object lesson? Amanda Knox's prosecutor has the opportunity now to see the world from Amanda's perspective, to turnabout, and be a different person, a compassionate person, a person, like you, Brooke, who could see the mistake you made about Gina's book, and own up to that. I imagine you are a better person for having made that incredibly embarrassing admission than if you had never effed anything up.
I believe in setting boundaries; please don't think I'm someone's dishmop. But, there have been times in friendships and family where I have known, in a deep place, that someone I loved was going to push inside my boundaries, and I needed to let them. Because it was the only way they could confront their own demons. Those are painful times, times I would rather not experience. Times that the dominant advice of the day says we don't have to experience: take care of yourself, first and foremost.
Did my mother ever see the destruction in her wake, and learn from it? Alas, no. In writing my memoir (and I'm sorry if this sounds like a query letter, Brooke; it's not!) I sought that reconciliation most of my life, even after her death made it impossible. It was the kitchen, my years as a chef, that saved my life, allowed me to love myself, and let go of hope for a relationship with a woman who was just not capable of giving it. What I learned about myself in all that made me the hero of my own story. I wish she could have been along for the ride, the sweet reconciliation that can come after forgiveness. But that wasn't to be. I have accepted, however, that for a time in my life, I was an object lesson. And I'm OK with that.
Thank you for this beautiful rumination on my reflection and bringing out your own story and reflections in process, Kathy. What I'm seeing here is how we apply these subjects to our own relationships, and we likely need to ponder what fits and what doesn't. Reconciliation is for sure not always possible, and I'm glad you found it in other ways. ❤️
I began writing through the eyes of a hurt child. For me, the story I told myself wasn't the story that time, and reflection revealed. Eighteen years of digging into my own memories, researching the Chicago Syndicate and interviewing family, I inadvertently revealed my mother's story, which flipped my story's antagonist. And that ultimately made for a more interesting and complex story that brought me to a place of peace and forgiveness.
This is a beautiful post in so many ways. FAdmitting you're friends with folks across the political divide can be deemed heresy these days. Thanks for your courage there. And I love your relationship with Gina, a former teacher and certainly a mentor of mine.
A perfect & beautiful article. It takes so much courage to call ourselves out when we hurt someone, to admit our piece - our share - of the brokenness. Estrangement. To be willing to mend & repair … that’s exquisite;
we’re all so messy & imperfect - flawed. You are an exceptional example of grace. And yeah, Gina’s mighty wonderful. Thank you for this lesson in humanity. I love you deep.
This is a wonderful post. I learned of kintsugi when I was grieving the death of my partner. It is a beautiful concept. Thank you for the reminder of this practice. Kintsugi can be applied to so many instances, including our current environment. Forgiveness is powerful and if not practiced, one misses out on so many relationships. Peter Mayer wrote a song "Japanese Bowl" which is about kintsugi, the repair of brokenness with gold.
LOVE this post so much. Thank you for your courage and compassion, Brooke. I have been so disheartened lately seeing what feels to me like anger, bitterness, scapegoating, and a general lack of kindness and compassion coming from all sides. I work hard every day to live differently, despite what is swirling all around us. Love that you do too (and you made me want to read these books).
Dear Brooke, what a beautiful, insightful article! I thought I was a forgiving person until I had to forgive myself for just being human; I blamed myself for choosing an abusive partner ( it took me 30 years) to finally leave! Over the last five years I forgave my ex-husband and learned to see the world through a different lens; I also learned that I was not broken but repaired and stronger.
Ooof. I love this so much. What a beautiful post. As aomeone who apologizes a lot (probably a bit too much), I don’t understand people who have values that prevent them from ever apologizing. We all make mistakes, and accountability is such a beautiful thing. I’ll check out Amanda‘s book. As a white Seattleite woman myself who went overseas during college, her story has always intrigued me. Thanks for this.
Brooke, there's so much that hits home for me in this post. I have no problem admitting when I'm wrong and apologizing if I've hurt someone's feelings, even inadvertently. So many people cling to their intent rather than focus on their impact. That's when we hear (non)apologies like my late mother's, "I'm sorry you feel that way."
As for Trump voters and anti-Zionists: unless the former has had a spiritual awakening and sees the error of their ways, we cannot be friends. I wish them no ill will, but our values are just too misaligned.
For the latter, and as Jew who lost half my father's family during the Holocaust, I am in full agreement. Zionism is not Judaism, in fact it goes against the tenets of the religion and culture. What the Israelis are doing in Gaza is a genocide and I cannot pretend it's anything less. I have a hard time synching with hardcore Zionists, but I find most non-Israeli and non-Jewish pro-Zionists to be more emotional and less ideological about their views. We share common ground in our belief that there is humanity within all people.
In terms of repair, I make the most effort with my son. Parents are not perfect, and I play the part of mother and father. When I get emotional and am short tempered with my son, I always apologize when I get back to equilibrium. I want him to know that my behavior is never his fault. We become closer in the moments when we say "I'm sorry" without qualification.
❤️ Thanks for your perspective, Amy. I'm finding it helpful to turn it all over in my mind and in my heart. Clarity is good, and often the road to clarity is feeling conflicted, which is certainly how I feel about my very dear family friend who's a Trump voter. Not willing to let her go, and we have good conversations and I hold my ground. And that's clarifying for me too.
Brooke, thanks for the book recommendation and for sharing your story of repair. I just listened to you and Grant's excellent interview with Amanda Knox on your podcast, and I look forward to reading her book.
So much wisdom imparted here — Knox, Frangello, Warner….the spiritual principle of forgiveness has such fine examples here. Thank you
I love this so much, for all the reasons. Gina is a mutual friend, one of several friends we have in common, so I'm even more looking forward to meeting you at the Central Coast Writers Conference in the fall.
Will be great to see you there, Leanne!