Most people know the saying “forgive and forget.” However, that isn’t always an option. There are times where it’s necessary to remember what occured, to keep track of it in case it happens again and builds a pattern. But what if the forgiveness isn’t an option either?
We are characteristically a forgiving system. We try to find reasons for people’s behavior, explain it away and say that they shouldn’t be frozen in time, they should be given the opportunities to do better and show change. But looking back, there are many times we shouldn’t have made that call. We should have stood our ground, been defiant with our anger and pain rather than writing it away for the comfort of the other.
If we hadn’t been so soft and forgiving, our first relationship wouldn’t have gotten nearly as toxic as it did. We wouldn’t have forgiven the constant yelling and criticism, the nitpicking of our outfits, self presentation, and behavior, and the abuse. We would have gotten out far less traumatized and with many less unhealthy coping mechanisms to unlearn.
One area we’ve stood firm on is our parents. They try to reach out periodically, sending messages through Facebook or reels on Instagram. But we never respond. That in itself is a refusal to forgive, holding onto the space we fought so hard to create. The siblings that we still talk with say we should give them a chance, that they’ve changed since we talked last and they’re better people now. But does that make up for 18 years of heartache?
We were desperate for their approval as children. We forgave every bad mood, every yelling spree and drawn-out punishment, because clearly we were the problem. After all, we were just a child and they were the adults. They knew better, we were just failing at being a good child. So when times were good, when it was family movie night or game night, we tried our best to live in the moment and forgive and forget what had occurred sometimes minutes before. Because why would it happen if we didn’t deserve it?
We got too good at forgiving, at dismissing behaviors and actions as a thing of the past that no longer mattered. We took too much on our shoulders, blaming ourselves every time there was an argument, a punishment enacted or even slight criticism. It broke us before we even reached adulthood, and left us wide open to be plundered by those harsher and less naive than us. We forgave people even when we didn’t want to, because it was the high road action, the right thing to do, the Good Samaritan act we’d always tried to cultivate. And those choices put us in compromising positions time and again, with a new pain added to the swirling riptides we carried in our chest every time.
We’ve learned not to be as forgiving, trying to take every message at face value instead of hunting for secret meanings and hopeful maybies. But that skill only comes after many painful examples of just how naive, how soft and sweet and forgiving we are at our core. It slips in occasionally, the tug to be the bigger person, to forgive whatever transgression just occured. But we know the feeling now, and try to reign it in before it goes too far.
Looking back, we don’t regret not forgiving someone. We regret forgiving as many people as many times as we have.
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