A personal rant written in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, I Can’t Stay Mad at You.
Of course it is easy to say that it is better to be the bigger man in any conflict; walk away with your head held high because you took the high road, the road less travelled. But, in no way would I ever be those kind of people, I couldn’t even begin to consider the option. I do, however, willing to not stoop to the level of my opponent.
I would spend the whole entire day, if not more, if ever I had the chance to tell about all the stories of how many grudges I have held in the 27 years of my life. Many might say that it is not the best way to live one’s life, but I’m too much of a hard-headed person to actually let go of those grudges. Make no mistake, just because I decides to hold my grudges, it does not mean I let those grudges define how I live my life.
As weird as it may seem, the grudges serves the purpose to remind me of how many people have wronged me and how I overcame those instances and how it had made me who I am today. I once told a friend that, I hold on to grudges like a person hold on to dear life as he/she is being pushed down a cliff. I don’t know if that makes sense to others as it made sense to me, but it is what it is.
Imagine being pushed down a cliff by someone, anyone. And your reflexes enables you to grab on the corner of the cliff. You hang there, between life and death. Your fingers are hurting, you can’t hold on to the cliff any longer. Your body is too heavy. You could just let go, let gravity calls upon your body. But you would crush. You could die. Or worse, you would survive, but with broken bones and no one would help you. You would die a slow and painful death. Or you could hold on. Persistently holding on to your dear life, knowing that it would be a lost cause but you would feel great knowing that you had tried your best.
For me, holding on to my grudges is more or less like that. I could just let go and for a brief moment I would feel calm, but just very briefly. When my body hit the ground, it would be nothing but pain. Letting go of my grudges and assume that everything is forgiven and forgotten would only gave me a sense of calmness for awhile. When it dawn on me that those who wronged me could just live their life knowing that they have been forgiven and forgotten would bring me a new surge of anger that goes beyond holding my grudges. I won’t have that anger consume me, knowing that I can’t do anything about it for I have forgiven and forgotten those who wronged me.
This might not make sense to others, but when have I ever did anything that made sense to others? Life, for me, has never been about explaining about who I am, or why I did what I did. It has always been living it one day at a time, and hoping that along the way I could figure out what my life should mean to me.