"To err is human, but to forgive is divine". This is one of the few quotes that I actually previously despised a lot because somehow I felt it trivialised some of humanity's darkest suffering. I use to believe in karma...justice, I would call it and while most people called me vindictive, I felt it was righteous anger to retaliate against some horrendous atrocities done by humanity against themselves.
It is easier to ask someone to forgive...to give credible reasons to do so but I use to believe those saying it couldn't understand what the person wronged was going through maybe because they were emotionally not invested. It took me some time to adjust this mentality though.
This is one of the most difficult things to write about because it affected a part of me that I actually did not even realize. I think it is apt to give a little snippet of my background, because after years of going through a lot of negative emotions, I believe I am now strong enough to walk the tightrope.
I was born into a home where things came more easily to my siblings rather than myself and as such, fought tooth and nail to claim a piece of what seemed like “a right”. While I would say that I and my siblings have a lot in common, I think I grew up slightly different in terms of how I perceived things.
In some instances I had to go the extra mile to carve out a niche for myself because how else would I stand out. A few times it did, more often than not it didn't and I think they noticed. With them noticing came a tag of a weird know-it-all.
I remember once, when I was 8 - if memory serves me correctly - both my brothers and my sister ganged up on me. I can't remember what I did but upon asking them as an adult, they said I had it coming. That I was either mouthing off, or I was annoying, or I was frugal or something else. The reason seems to vary from one person to the other.
Back to the story. On that day after school, they ganged up against me and - I dunno whether they meant it or not – gave me a scar. Apparently there was a sharp metal protruding from the wall besides the front door and after beating me, forced me to sit down on the floor by pushing me by my shoulder. I don’t know if they knew there was a sharp metal by the wall but the force of the push made me scrub my back against the sharp metal, while I was pushed all the way down to the floor.
It was the worst physical pain I had ever felt. Imagine a razor blade cutting a line on your body from the beginning of your spinal column all the way down your loin and almost reaching the buttocks. I was in searing pain but I endured and although I bled, I never let them see my pain. Even when my parents came home, I didn't tattle. I can't say I took it like a grown-up, because how could an 8 year old even possibly take such pain like a grown-up.
In hindsight, I think...no I believe that particular incident forged a foundation that kinda made me who I am. Strong-willed, stubborn and untrusting...very untrusting. How can you possibly trust that someone wouldn't cause you pain after such was done to you by your own flesh and blood. It is a scar that prefer to hide because I'm very uncomfortable revealing to anyone. It is as if the person might see a broken part of me that I have hidden from the world. Maybe the scar wasn’t just on my body but was for a long time also etched in the deepest parts of my soul.
It has been many decades since it happened and while I sometimes wince at the thought of what I went through in the hands of people I call my siblings, I also feel emboldened about what the mind can endure and the resultant effects. One can take the positives or the negatives from such a situation.
It took me a long time to feel like they wanted me. To think if they cared or not that I was related to them. For a long time I found solace in the general statement that “you don't choose the family you come from” and I’d often seclude myself whenever we were all together. I don't think growing up with distrust for your siblings is a good way to go, but I think I did for a long time.
It took me a while but I've forgiven them or I think I have and with that forgiveness, I think I got lighter. I'll try to prevent such sibling rivalry - if you can call it that - among my kids.
You see, forgiveness is not an action but a process. There are factors that could sometimes determine how long it takes to forgive...if there even is forgiveness. It all depends on how grave the offense is to the person, the person's nature, the time of the offense, the offender's relationship with the offended and many more.
It is truly difficult to forgive and those who do it are seen as heroes in a sense but let us not also trivialise the struggles of those who haven't or will never forgive because while they have inadvertently chosen to carry that weight, it was not their fault. They didn't ask to be offended.
Forgiveness is a deliberate choice but the thing about choice is that it can never be forced. Once it is forced, then it is not a choice.