Forgive

For a couple of years, forgiveness felt like a sin.

It was a betrayal against myself. I recoiled at the thought of letting go of my comfortable hate. I felt wronged. I felt tricked into love. I felt abandoned after being used up. And I felt so right – so justified – to relive those feelings every time the sting of hollow promises and feckless gestures staggered my thoughts.

But it kept hurting. And reliving the pain did nothing helpful.

And even when others reached out only to cause more torment, it slowly became clear that the motivation is driven by their own pain, their insecurities, and their inability to face their own demons.

The people I have in my life now are all tightly or loosely bound to me with every interaction. Each of those interactions are opportunities to fill them with love, encouragement, kindness, and understanding.

I will then forgive.

Because without forgiveness, my cup is bitter. I don’t want the people in my life to sip bile. Not anymore. And my own healing can continue when I’m not bound to that bitterness. I won’t feed the darkness.