Back in 1998 I wrote about high school reunions, in the course of which I came to the realization that I hold grudges. It surprised me because I'd always thought of myself as someone who forgives and forgets. The ease with which I become angered or saddened by the memory of slights and wounds dealt many years ago clearly contradicts such a conclusion.
I've always hated the way my mind clings to hurt and humiliation, perpetually ready to replay some painful memory instead of letting me move on. I dwell on the past a lot, it's my nature to do so. And yet the hurtful situations that made me so miserable at the time often had less to do with me than with the person creating them. I still think my high school teacher was an asshole just because he could be, but if I'm truthful his behavior spurred me on to show him I was capable of being a great musician despite my lack of formal training. Sometimes anger is the only goad which will make me forget about limits. So should I be wallowing in righteous indignation or should I more properly be grateful? I might not have taken a shot at getting into music school if I hadn't been bitterly determined to prove Mr. Estes wrong. I might easily have let my fear of failure keep me from making the attempt.
Letting go is the hardest thing in the world for me. But I think I'm getting better.
Last week I had the opportunity to test my determination to become someone who does not hold grudges. One of the women in the entry contacted me after reading it. She wanted to let me know she had straightened out her life years ago and was interested in re-establishing communication. She took total responsibility for her problems, though curiously she made no apology for any of her behavior. She just wanted me to know she'd changed. And you know what? I realized I truly didn't need more than that. I didn't need to rehash everything after all. I got an explanation, and somehow I got a sense of perspective along with it. I forgave her, though that might not matter to her. It's all so much water under the bridge now, the time for confrontation long past and no longer important.
I'm not able to forget. Once burned, twice shy; I don't want further communication. I'm just glad this ghost was laid to rest at long last. I'm glad to find I'm capable of letting go.
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