My Weakness? I Don’t Hold Grudges — But I Lived Among People Who Do

 

There’s something I’ve learned about myself: I don’t hold grudges. I just don’t. And while many might see that as a strength, in the wrong community, it turned into a liability.

I live and love from the heart. When I argue, I may say things that sting — sometimes because they’re true — but my intent is rarely to wound. It’s to express. And often, just minutes after a disagreement, I’ve moved on. I forget what people did to me. Not because I’m naïve, but because I genuinely operate out of love. I want peace. I want restoration. I want the relationship, not the resentment.

I’ve had moments with my husband where we’ve argued and, shortly after, I’m looking at him wondering, “Why do you still look upset? Didn’t we just move past this?” Because for me, once I’ve said what’s on my heart, I’m already thinking about what we’re eating for dinner or what show we’re watching next. I’m ready to laugh again. I don’t carry bitterness in my bones — I was never built for that.

But here’s the tension: I was in a community that does hold grudges.

Deep ones. Silent ones. The kind of grudges that don’t just stay in hearts but spread through whispers, looks, and distance. 

I didn’t understand it at first. I thought maybe people needed time. But time passed — and so did grace. I realized that many in that space didn’t want resolution. They wanted to be right, or worse, wanted me to pay.

And when you’re someone who forgets offenses, who still smiles at people who’ve hurt you, who wants to believe the best even when shown the worst — that kind of love becomes unsafe. You get misunderstood. You get taken advantage of. And worst of all, you get hurt in places that were supposed to feel like home.

So now, I’m guarded. I don’t let people in easily. I don’t laugh as freely. I love… but from a distance. It’s not who I want to be, but it’s who I’ve had to become — to survive.

And maybe one day I’ll find a community that matches my heart. One that forgives quickly, loves deeply, and lets people be human without punishment. But until then, I’ve learned this: it’s okay to protect your peace. It’s okay to recognize when love isn’t being returned. And it’s okay to admit when the strength you carry — the softness, the forgiveness — was seen as weakness by the wrong people.

But it wasn’t weakness.
It was grace.

And I still believe in grace. I just now know that not everyone does.

Disclaimer:
These blog posts are created for entertainment and educational purposes only. While some entries may be written in the first person, they are works of creativity and do not reflect the personal experiences or histories of any specific individual. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The content is not intended to represent factual accounts, but rather to inspire thought, spark conversation, and explore ideas through storytelling and commentary.