I consider myself a person who forgives easily. I don’t like holding grudges, and I usually believe in giving people a second chance. But when I think about two women who used to be close family friends, I have to ask myself: Do I really forgive that easily?
These women were part of our lives. They came to our house and attended our parties. We helped interpret for them when they needed it. They were especially close to my mother.
Then one day, everything changed.
At a birthday party, they got drunk and started saying bad things about my sister and me. They told one of our aunts that we were bad daughters and that we didn’t deserve the mother we had.
When I found out, I was enraged. More than anything, I felt betrayed.
At that time, my mother didn’t live with me, but I usually spent one of my days off with her. I would take her out to eat, shopping, or to her appointments. I never considered myself a perfect daughter, but I knew I was a good daughter. So hearing people who knew our family say those things about us really hurt.
My mother was very good friends with these women. They spent a lot of time together and had even taken her on vacation once.
When I confronted them in front of my mother, they initially tried to deny what they had said. Eventually, they told me something that hurt even more: they liked my mother, but they didn’t like her kids.
What shocked me the most wasn’t even what they said. It was my mother’s reaction.
She didn’t seem bothered by their comments. At the time, it almost felt as though she sided with them. I couldn’t understand it. I remember thinking, How can you continue being friends with people who just told you they don’t like your children?
I knew one thing for sure: if someone told me they didn’t like my child, I wouldn’t want to hang out with them.
That hurt stayed with me for years.
And if I’m truthful, some of my resentment wasn’t only toward those women. I held a little bit of a grudge against my mother too. I kept wondering, Why didn’t she defend us? Why didn’t this bother her the way it bothered me?
I have always been a loving daughter, but that experience changed something in me. Even after all these years, thinking about it can still hurt.
Recently, I finally talked to my mother about it. I told her how deeply her reaction had hurt me and that I had carried those feelings for years.
This time, she seemed to finally understand.
Did she apologize? No.
Would I have liked an apology? Of course. But at least she finally understood why it had hurt me so much. Sometimes we don’t get the apology we hoped for, but simply feeling heard and understood can help us let go of some of the pain.
That conversation didn’t erase what happened, but it helped me make peace with some of it.
So, do I hold grudges?
I still don’t consider myself someone who holds onto anger easily. I talk to people. I forgive. I give second chances. I have forgiven people for many things throughout my life.
But those two women are different. They are the exception.
I don’t wish anything bad upon them. I just don’t want them in my life. And I’ve realized that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m holding a grudge.
Forgiving someone doesn’t mean you have to give them another chance. Sometimes forgiveness is simply making peace with what happened, letting go of the anger, and choosing to move forward without them.
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