The fine Art of holding a Grudge

My mom is my greatest hero; she is my best friend and the first one to seek advice from. But like all children, there are things about her I think she can do without, do so much better without. One, the most that worries me, is keeping long term grudges and hatred. When I say long term, I mean she told me a story of why she hates a certain woman till day because of something she had said to her when she was six or seven years old. My mom is now almost fifty.

When I mouth my concerns about when she starts remembering all the reasons she have to be angry with some family member or work colleague of her, she simply tells me that she can never forget what anyone did to her, bad or good. And while she does everything to repay those who did her any good, no matter how small the gesture, she will never even look nicely to someone who wronged her. I do believe children should not judge their parents, their choices led up to us being born after all but I do find this quality very dangerous on many levels. It is also one of the many things my mom and I have in different, one of some she says she envies me sometimes. Personally, I tend to get angry. I would shout, cry and even spend days picturing all the ways I could have acted or the things I could have said to make the person regret their actions or at least embarrass them to death. But after few days, there is nothing left in my heart towards that person. If they were a friend I love and admire I would make the effort to make up with them. Otherwise, the person will return to be in my life what they always were, a nobody.

One of my friends once said this happens because I’m the cold hearted kind of person, the type that is worse than the none forgiving, I am the type that makes people feel like they never meant anything in the first place so are not worth being remembered for any of their actions even the worst ones. And although I wouldn’t consider myself to be a cold person in general, I do tend to spend a couple of hours crying with a movie or a book character, but I do tend to like putting some things in their right perspectives: If the person is important then they are worth forgiving them and going back to the good relationship you had with them in the first place, otherwise, why are they worth remembering? I mean if a stranger treated you badly once a million years ago, are they really worth remembering their face and name and praying each night to get the chance of getting back at them? And if someone you call family wronged you horribly, said some demeaning things behind your back or to your face regardless of how you felt without any shred of regret in their heart, are they worth calling family? If they didn’t care enough to apologize at least, then are they worth being considered so important you would remember the date of the crime and the name of the criminal and even what they were wearing better than remembering a lovely day when your friends set up that surprise party, or when that special someone got you that unexpected gift? Because believe me, the more grudges you hold, the more bad memories will flash back in your mind and the less good ones will be recalled.

So, this is my way of doing it: let go of all grudges and angry thoughts.

This is my fine art of holding a grudge: telling them they are so small and unimportant they are not worth remembering at all.


2 thoughts on “The fine Art of holding a Grudge

  1. michaelalexanderchaney says:

    Good for you. I wish I could be more like you. Me, I begin to get creative with my grudges. That’s the only I know to revise the negative thoughts into something remotely positive–grandly scheming to get even!

    • seekingsomepeace says:

      Well you know what they say: write letters to your enemies, never mail them.
      Thanks for the comment, I’d love to see some of those creations.
      I won’t deny my anger ends up in the horrid ways I plot death and trouble to my characters, it is simply the idea of keeping bad feelings for such a long time that I find not very doable.

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