A blogger friend of mine posted a(n assumed) rhetorical topic recently, regarding forgiveness and grudges. He discussed briefly how he had some offenses brought on to him in his life, of which he tells himself he’s forgiven, yet they remain open wounds on his feelings and even anger him when he thinks about them. He is concerned about holding grudges, not wanting them to jade him as a person and toxify his life – but didn’t know how to forgive if the wound never heals.
I think about this a lot myself – so much that I decided to go off on my own tangent here at my own blog. Some people have hurt me badly in my life:
~ The kids at school who made fun of my hair and skin and clothes and good grades, some of which were friends who turned on me in favor of being accepted.
~ My bulemic college roommate who ate all my food when money was scarce to buy it anyway, and habitually threw it back up in the toilet and didn’t clean up the oversplash and stole my clothes at the end of the year.
~ My rapist, who still walks the streets, somewhere.
~ The boss who fired me from the most fun job I ever had for something he had given me permission to do.
~ My ex-husband, who slyly and subtly sucked the very life force out of me before adding insult to injury with an affair of which I was the last to know.
And others …
I say I have forgiven, and usually truly think I have. Sometimes it doesn't bother me, other times it does. Sometimes very much. But does that mean I haven't forgiven them? Does it necessarily mean or prove I hold a grudge? Must the two states be joined so severely that the presence of one couldn't possibly mean the absence of the other? Or is it that even WITH forgiveness, you'll just bear sensitive scars that may very well continue to hurt ~ maybe forever ~ and that's that .
Maybe it comes down to the simple fact that while outward facades can be altered, there is no plastic surgery for the heart.