TOO FORGIVING

I have come to realise that I am too forgiving for my own good.

My whole life I have lived the adage that life is too short to hold grudges, so I have moved on and forgiven; and now I realise that this has been to MY detriment.

I truly believe that life is too short to hold grudges, oh I have remembered the things that people have done, but being gullible, I believed the words that came out of their mouths and forgave and wrapped my arms around them and moved on as if nothing had happened. Went back to life as it was as if, as if there hadn't been a scratch against my soul; but there was a scratch, and sometimes there was a gash, and most times the other person doesn't realise they have left their mark.

My capacity for forgiveness, to always see the good in people can be an asset, it allows people a chance to rectify and change, however my capacity for forgiveness is also a deficit, and that deficit is to me. I have, over the years, had several reasons to hate someone, to seek revenge on them, to pay back and hurt as much as they hurt me, but I didn't, and that has backfired on me hugely. I am not a vengeful person, I never have been. Oh I have layed in bed late and night coming up with little plans of getting back at someone, but I have never put those into place, I couldn't really be bothered, I couldn't really give them the satisfaction. However, over the last couple of months, my hurt has been so great that I have become someone, I don't recognise and have said many things to lash out and hurt, those things have scratched at souls too, however others capacity for forgiveness isn't the same as mine and so where does that leave me?

That leaves me with wondering why I am so forgiving. Oh I have my ideas, and the pages of my past have something to do with that, but a lot of what we do, a lot of what we say comes upon us subconsciously, and we are not even aware that the pages of our past are having an impact on the pages of our present and our future.

I try to be fair, I look at things from both sides of the coin, that has been my undoing at times as well. I can understand why someone does what they do, I can see a reason why someone may react in a certain way, and forgive them, but I also expect people to treat me in the same way and to the same standard that I expect and treat them. We are humans, with failings, sometimes many failings, and sometimes we love those people even more to show them that they are worth it, but then, they think that they can run with that gift, they think it becomes an entitlement, and drop the ball and forget, interactions between people, interactions between parents and children, brothers and sisters, men and women, men and men and women and women, needs both parties to maintain that relationship.

In the last couple of months, particularly, I have raged; I have raged like I have never raged before. I have yelled and screamed and yelled and screamed and cried and cried and cried until I have no energy left, and I am a messy pile on the floor, tired, exhausted, spent, with my beautiful little dog laying next to me, because, and it is a cliche, dogs love you no matter what. I have realised that I have a ball anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, the result of many things, but none the less it is there, burning and eating away at me, causing me to react in ways I never thought I would. It has probably changed my capacity for understanding, for forgiveness, for change, for happiness, but that ball has been one of my constant companions.

I have been reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It is taking me some time to get through it because it touches my soul, Elizabeth has been inside my heart and my soul. This is one of the passages that touched me:
"Depression and Loneliness track me down after about ten days in Italy..........They come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton Detectives, and they flank me. Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right. They don't need to show me their badges. I know these guys very well. We've been playing a cat-and-mouse game for years now.....................They empty my pockets of any joy I had been carrying there. Depression even confiscates my identity; but he always does that. Then Loneliness starts interrogating me, which I dread because it always goes on for hours. He's polite, but relentless and he always trips me up eventually. He asks if I have any reason to be be happy that I know of..............It's not fair for you to come here, I tell Depression...........But he just gives me that dark smile, settles into my favorite chair, puts his feet on my table and lights a cigar, filling the place with his awful smoke. Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He's going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it."

I forgave you the scratches, I forgave you the slashes, but when I told you about them, your scratches and slashes were bigger than mine, your capacity for forgiveness was not the same as mine and Loneliness and Depression are now friends of forgiveness.