Forrest Gump and the Art of Letting Go

I was scrolling through one of my groups on Facebook recently when I saw a piece of what I consider pseudo-wisdom. It said:

"Showing compassion to a narcissist is like sliding into an alligator's mouth. Don't do it. Talk in their language or don't talk at all."

I found myself getting irritated at this statement. Why would we match someone else's negative energy? What is the use in that?

After pondering these questions, I wrote in my journal:

"Hurt people hurt people. Narcissists are no exception. Don't change your authentic compassionate expression for their sake. They may learn something from it although don't bet. If they don't learn from it, distance yourself from the person, not your own compassion. Know the worth of your own energy and protect it."

It's true that hurt people hurt people. It's also true that we don't have to bear the hurt that hurt people inflict on us. In fact, if we can recognize the "chain of pain," we can not only empathize with hurt people who hurt people but also understand how hurts inflicted on us might manifest themselves into hurting others. Sometimes we can break this chain by being there for those who are hurting, and other times we have to break this chain by distancing ourselves from those who hurt in order to protect our energy.

While I'm quite experienced, I still look for guidance in this arena. One of the best sources for that guidance is the beloved Forrest Gump.

I couldn't think of a better representation of Gump than a Golden Retriever

When I think of "letting go," I envision the feather in the opening credits of Forrest Gump (1994). The way it drifts, allowing the breeze to wisp and twist it wherever—without attachment. It softly lands against Forrest's worn running sneaker before Forrest picks it up and ponders it with such a gentle curiosity as he stores it away in a children's book in his briefcase. That feather is an exact metaphor for Forrest himself and the way he lived his life, and the way he handles the feather seems so symbolic of his contentment with the outcome--without really thinking too hard about the outcome.

Forrest goes through life with a very healthy sense of love and curiosity for everything around him. He's the perfect example of someone who is very in touch with himself and how his self relates to his environment, and he never stops pondering and questioning the oddities and behaviors of those around him. He knows how to live in the moment, and when he knows he cares about someone, he shows it. When he feels like crying, he cries. When he feels like running, he runs. 

Forrest loved many unconditionally and yet without attachment--my favorite examples being Lt. Dan and Jenny. 

He saved Lt. Dan because he loved Lt. Dan, and this angered Lt. Dan because he clearly didn't love himself and said some hurtful things toward Forrest as a result. The two eventually go separate ways after the war with Lt. Dan very clearly full of resentment toward Gump. It's only years later when they're reunited that the spiteful Lt. Dan makes his peace with the direction of his life and we see him enjoy a legless swim with nothing but warmth in his eyes. In their time of separation, we don't see Gump pondering too much on Dan, and yet his love for Dan is shown to have been retained upon reunion.

Between the two examples, I think it's Forrest's love for Jenny that stands out the most though. Jenny grows up in an abusive household which results in much self-loathing. She displays very self-destructive behaviors in her adulthood as she just tries to find her way. Her methods of "finding her way," such as through drugs and self-sabotaging behaviors, end up hurting Gump in many ways, and although Gump and Jenny experience life quite separately, he never stops empathizing and loving her.  There are times when he isn't sure he'll ever see her again, and yet nothing changes for him when he does finally see her again. His love is stable and constant. Unchanging and expressive. The distance and circumstances of her mental health mean nothing.

Of course he feels pain when she leaves or abandons him. This pain is processed in a healthy way when he decides to go running for 3 years and can't necessarily explain why. He doesn't run away from his problems around Jenny--he knows he "just felt like running" which means he was paying attention to his feelings to begin with and running was his way of processing those feelings on his own. He is in the moment, and he is focused on the task at hand--running.

The fact that it took 3 years of running ultimately doesn't mean much. After all, healing doesn't have a time limit.

See, Forrest didn't pine after Jenny throughout the film. He continued to live his best life while she was hardly around. There was distance while she dealt with her own inner turmoil and trauma responses, but he never stopped loving her from afar. That's how it should be with all our loved ones--even those who have hurt us. Even if it means they may never return to us or we to them.

I think an important idea to recognize is one of impermanence. When we realize that nobody owes us their presence in our lives and we don't owe anyone ours, we appreciate it when they actually are present but we are still able to sustain alone without feeling we need that person.

We can want and even wish for them, but too much and we lose out on the present moment.

I remember a time when I would miss having parents. Because I'm only human, I still sometimes reminisce what it was like to be dependent on a parent or parent figure to comfort me in times of trouble. To have someone I can lean on to cry or have that unconditional love and comfort. I miss feeling understood on a level that perhaps only a parent could, but then I remember that my parents never really understood me at all. They never understood my needs because they were unable to tend to their own in a healthy manner. They were hurt people that hurt people, and distance is the best option despite the love I still hold for them both.

I have, in fact, cut off most of my family for various reasons. Some if it has to do with being unable to handle the trauma I involuntarily revisit in my mind when I'm in their presence. Some of it has to do with communicating needs but consistently being let down and I therefore lack emotional energy to sustain their presence in my life. My love for them remains, of course. But because of this love, before I cut them off, I dealt with some serious guilt and shame around the thought of doing so.

Sometimes locking the door behind us is the hardest but most necessary thing to do.

Some of the fears I think we face when considering cutting off people we care about are that we'll be accused of abandoning them. We might fear that we'll never find another love to supplement theirs. We fear we won't find another group to belong to because nobody understands us quite like family or that old friend group did. 

We should understand that letting go is most certainly not abandonment. We know our love for these people remains--so long as the love is still there then we have not abandoned these people in our hearts. However, by sticking around people who are detrimental for our mental health, we abandon our true selves and instead foster the self that associates with our connections to others. We cannot put all our worth in simply being a son, a daughter, a sister, a brother, a partner etc. It's perfectly safe and okay to simply identify as ourselves and not our titles toward others.

On the flipside, when we know we need to let go but can't, we sometimes shame ourselves for being "too weak." 

If you ever feel this, Reader, I want you to know that you are not weak for feeling unable to let go of people in your life.

You're not weak for loving someone. You're not weak for sticking around to try and maintain the peace among those who can't seem to find their own inner peace. You're not weak for using your emotional energy to support those who are hurting. You are the opposite of weak. You are strong for seeing the hurt in others and empathizing with them regardless of how much they have hurt you.

You are, however, wasting that strength away by remaining physically present and actively working at something that has little to no promise for you. The more we use our strength toward those who don't reciprocate, the more that strength deteriorates. The longer you stay on this path of deterioration, the more you begin to blame yourself for being unable to help those who should be putting in effort to help themselves. You are committing to a negative self-perception, and a life lacking in self-value.  As we know, this will continue to manifest into the chain of pain as you, a negatively-perceiving person, will hurt others by projecting into them opinions of you that you believe they have.

We can address the fact that we can still care about the toxic people we leave behind. It just means we haven't lost ourselves to the cruelties we've been dealt by them. We don't have to keep them around in order to prove to ourselves and others that we are caring people.

So, by walking away from people who harm us, but maintaining an authentic sense of compassion and empathy, we maintain our strength and we break the "chain of pain." We also practice independence of self.

So what do we do after we walk away and let go? We live in the moment and stay present with ourselves. We run when we feel the need to run. We cry when we feel the need to cry. We continue to do the things we enjoy and we spend more time with people who actually appreciate us--that or we become more open to finding people who will actually appreciate us. We practice being comfortable alone with ourselves and not needing anyone but perhaps appreciating those who are around.

The idea of impermanence and nonattachment in our familial, platonic, and romantic relationships is really this focus on who helps us grow and who doesn't. The moment either recipient is no longer growing as a result of the relationship, we must be able to know when to walk away--even when it hurts. With nonattachment, we practice real care for the other person and their own living experiences as opposed to our attachments to them. We also recognize our own. We appreciate them for who they are, ourselves for who we are, and we spend time and put in the effort with these people because we genuinely want to and not because we have to. That is real, unconditional love I think.

Forrest loved many whether they were around or not--especially Jenny. He loved her from afar, and he loved her when she was around. He loved her even when she was cruel, and especially when she was kind. The point is that he loved, and he loved relentlessly. Without fear. Without guilt. Without shame. Without need for her presence. And yet, he continued to live incredible experiences without her while carrying that love everywhere he went. We all know how the movie ends.

Regarding carrying love with him--we can do the same.

"We cannot change people, we can only love them. Hopefully we love hard enough that they want to do better, not for you, but for themselves."

-Alex Elle 

Listening to: "I'm Forrest... Forrest Gump" by Alan Silvestri

Bonus image.