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El derecho a NO perdonar:
Cuando sanar significa simplemente soltar
Navegando por las publicaciones de la Comunidad de Holos&Lotus, me encontré con un post reciente del compañero @emiliorios titulado “El ojo por ojo que debemos dejar detrás…”. Se le nota a leguas que Emilio tiene un corazón noble. En su escrito, él nos invita amablemente a dejar ir las venganzas y abrazar el perdón como vía de liberación. Respeto profundamente su visión y la nobleza de sus palabras.
Pero miren, vamos a hablar claro, a mí dad, la honestidad no es una opción, es lo único que me queda y no la negocio. Leer eso me encendió una alarma. No sé si es la vejez, las marcas que uno se trajo de la realidad dura de Venezuela, o si es este silencio que tengo ahora viviendo aquí en Canadá, pero yo lo veo distinto. A veces nos da miedo decir esto para no sonar rencorosos o “poco evolucionados”, pero hay que preguntárselo: ¿Qué pasa cuando la herida es tan profunda que perdonar se siente como traicionarse a uno mismo?
Cortesía de Pixabay.
Hay una presión bárbara con eso del «ser buenismo». Pareciera que, si no perdonas rápido, eres el malo o te vas a enfermar. Nos repiten que el rencor es veneno. Y sí, claro que lo es. Pero hay un peligro en querer perdonar a «juro»: terminamos invalidando lo que sentimos.
Hay traiciones, vainas que nos han pasado —y los venezolanos sabemos bien de qué hablo, de esas que rompen familias— donde decir “te perdono” sin justicia me sabe a mentira. Y la mentira no cura. Yo no soy muy religioso, mi fe es más terrenal, y desde este suelo siento que tengo derecho a no perdonar si eso significa minimizar el daño.
Fíjense en algo que veo aquí en Ontario. En el patio tengo un roble que hace años lo partió un rayo. El árbol no se puso a “perdonar” a la tormenta. Lo que hizo fue cerrar la herida. Hizo un callo duro, una corteza fea pero resistente, y siguió creciendo. La marca está ahí, es parte de su historia.
Para mí, eso es sanar de verdad. Y aquí es donde yo rayo la cancha: una cosa es perdonar y otra muy distinta es soltar.
Cortesía de Psicologia y Mente.
Soltar es aceptar que pasó y que eso ya no va a manejar mi vida. Pero no significa que tenga que abrazar al que me dañó. Alice Miller decía algo muy cierto: el cuerpo no miente. Si digo “te perdono” de la boca para afuera, pero se me revuelven las tripas, estoy armando una guerra civil por dentro. Y a estas alturas del partido, yo quiero paz.
¿Qué hago entonces si no me vengo, pero tampoco perdono del todo? Sencillo: busco la neutralidad.
Es llegar a ese punto donde el recuerdo ya no dispara la tensión, no me activa la rabia. Es mirar la cicatriz y decir: “Caramba, cómo dolió eso, pero ya no sangra”. He aprendido que se puede dejar de odiar sin tener que llegar a amar, tampoco me obliga a invitar al agresor a mi mesa. Existe la indiferencia, que es un escudo maravilloso. Es retirar mi energía. Dejar de gastar pólvora en zamuros, pues.
Cortesía de Unsplash
Ahora que viene otra Navidad y el frío aprieta por estos lados, mi regalo es no forzarme. Si me hirieron feo, no voy a buscar venganza, porque eso me ata al otro, y yo quiero ser libre. Pero tampoco voy a regalar un perdón barato si no me nace. Seguiré mi camino honrando mis cicatrices como medallas de supervivencia, igual que mi roble.
Se los pregunto con el corazón en la mano, compañeros de Holos&Lotus: ¿Nunca han sentido esa presión fastidiosa por perdonar cuando todavía no estaban listos?
Creciendo como persona, busca y encuentra lo que necesitas para ser un mejor humano en la Comunidad Holos&Lotus. De seguro, hay un tema que te llamará la atención.
Infografía propia de la Comunidad Holos&Lotus
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
The right NOT to forgive:
When healing simply means letting go.
While browsing the Holos&Lotus Community posts, I came across a recent post by @emiliorios titled “The Eye for an Eye We Must Leave Behind…”. It’s clear that Emilio has a kind heart. In his writing, he gently invites us to let go of revenge and embrace forgiveness as a path to liberation. I deeply respect his perspective and the nobility of his words.
But look, let’s be clear, for me, honesty isn’t optional; it’s the only thing I have left, and I won’t compromise on it. Reading that set off a red flag for me. I don’t know if it’s old age, the scars I carried from the harsh realities of Venezuela, or this silence I’ve found now living here in Canada, but I see things differently. Sometimes we’re afraid to say this for fear of sounding resentful or “unevolved”, but we have to ask ourselves: What happens when the wound is so deep that forgiving feels like betraying oneself?
Courtesy of Pixabay.
There's a tremendous pressure surrounding this whole “goody-two-shoes” thing. It seems like if you don't forgive quickly, you're the bad guy, or you'll get sick. We're constantly told that resentment is poison. And yes, of course it is. But there's a danger in wanting to forgive “by force”: we end up invalidating what we feel.
There are betrayals, things that have happened to us —and we Venezuelans know exactly what I'm talking about, the kind that tear families apart— where saying “I forgive you” without justice feels like a lie. And lies don't heal. I'm not very religious; my faith is more earthly, and from this ground, I feel I have the right not to forgive if that means minimizing the damage.
Look at something I see here in Ontario. In my yard, I have an oak tree that was struck by lightning years ago. The tree didn't “forgive” the storm. What it did was close the wound. It formed a hard callus, an ugly but resistant bark, and kept growing. The scar is there; it's part of their story.
For me, that's true healing. And this is where I draw the line: forgiving is one thing, letting go is quite another.
Courtesy of Psychology and Mind.
Letting go means accepting what happened and that it's no longer going to control my life. But it doesn't mean I have to embrace the person who hurt me. Alice Miller said something very true: the body doesn't lie. If I say “I forgive you” superficially, but my gut is churning, I'm waging a civil war inside. And at this point, I want peace.
So what do I do if I don't get revenge, but I also don't fully forgive? Simple: I seek neutrality.
It's reaching that point where the memory no longer triggers tension, no longer ignites anger. It's looking at the scar and saying, “Wow, that hurt, but it's not bleeding anymore.” I've learned that you can stop hating without having to love, and it doesn't obligate me to invite the aggressor to my table either. There is indifference, which is a wonderful shield. It's withdrawing my energy. It's ceasing to waste my breath on vultures, so to speak.
Courtesy of Unsplash
Now that another Christmas is coming, and the cold is biting here, my gift is not to force myself. If I've been badly hurt, I'm not going to seek revenge, because that ties me to the other person, and I want to be free. But I'm also not going to offer a cheap apology if it doesn't come from the heart. I will continue on my path, honoring my scars like medals of survival, just like my oak tree.
I ask you with my heart in my hand, fellow Holos&Lotus members: Haven't you ever felt that annoying pressure to forgive when you weren't ready?
Growing as a person, seek and find what you need to be a better person in the Holos&Lotus Community. Surely, there's a topic that will catch your attention.
Community's own infographic Holos&Lotus
🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
The right NOT to forgive:
When healing simply means letting go.
While browsing the Holos&Lotus Community posts, I came across a recent post by @emiliorios titled “The Eye for an Eye We Must Leave Behind…”. It’s clear that Emilio has a kind heart. In his writing, he gently invites us to let go of revenge and embrace forgiveness as a path to liberation. I deeply respect his perspective and the nobility of his words.
But look, let’s be clear, for me, honesty isn’t optional; it’s the only thing I have left, and I won’t compromise on it. Reading that set off a red flag for me. I don’t know if it’s old age, the scars I carried from the harsh realities of Venezuela, or this silence I’ve found now living here in Canada, but I see things differently. Sometimes we’re afraid to say this for fear of sounding resentful or “unevolved”, but we have to ask ourselves: What happens when the wound is so deep that forgiving feels like betraying oneself?
Courtesy of Pixabay.
There's a tremendous pressure surrounding this whole “goody-two-shoes” thing. It seems like if you don't forgive quickly, you're the bad guy, or you'll get sick. We're constantly told that resentment is poison. And yes, of course it is. But there's a danger in wanting to forgive “by force”: we end up invalidating what we feel.
There are betrayals, things that have happened to us —and we Venezuelans know exactly what I'm talking about, the kind that tear families apart— where saying “I forgive you” without justice feels like a lie. And lies don't heal. I'm not very religious; my faith is more earthly, and from this ground, I feel I have the right not to forgive if that means minimizing the damage.
Look at something I see here in Ontario. In my yard, I have an oak tree that was struck by lightning years ago. The tree didn't “forgive” the storm. What it did was close the wound. It formed a hard callus, an ugly but resistant bark, and kept growing. The scar is there; it's part of their story.
For me, that's true healing. And this is where I draw the line: forgiving is one thing, letting go is quite another.
Courtesy of Psychology and Mind.
Letting go means accepting what happened and that it's no longer going to control my life. But it doesn't mean I have to embrace the person who hurt me. Alice Miller said something very true: the body doesn't lie. If I say “I forgive you” superficially, but my gut is churning, I'm waging a civil war inside. And at this point, I want peace.
So what do I do if I don't get revenge, but I also don't fully forgive? Simple: I seek neutrality.
It's reaching that point where the memory no longer triggers tension, no longer ignites anger. It's looking at the scar and saying, “Wow, that hurt, but it's not bleeding anymore.” I've learned that you can stop hating without having to love, and it doesn't obligate me to invite the aggressor to my table either. There is indifference, which is a wonderful shield. It's withdrawing my energy. It's ceasing to waste my breath on vultures, so to speak.
Courtesy of Unsplash
Now that another Christmas is coming, and the cold is biting here, my gift is not to force myself. If I've been badly hurt, I'm not going to seek revenge, because that ties me to the other person, and I want to be free. But I'm also not going to offer a cheap apology if it doesn't come from the heart. I will continue on my path, honoring my scars like medals of survival, just like my oak tree.
I ask you with my heart in my hand, fellow Holos&Lotus members: Haven't you ever felt that annoying pressure to forgive when you weren't ready?
While browsing the Holos&Lotus Community posts, I came across a recent post by @emiliorios titled “The Eye for an Eye We Must Leave Behind…”. It’s clear that Emilio has a kind heart. In his writing, he gently invites us to let go of revenge and embrace forgiveness as a path to liberation. I deeply respect his perspective and the nobility of his words.
But look, let’s be clear, for me, honesty isn’t optional; it’s the only thing I have left, and I won’t compromise on it. Reading that set off a red flag for me. I don’t know if it’s old age, the scars I carried from the harsh realities of Venezuela, or this silence I’ve found now living here in Canada, but I see things differently. Sometimes we’re afraid to say this for fear of sounding resentful or “unevolved”, but we have to ask ourselves: What happens when the wound is so deep that forgiving feels like betraying oneself?
Courtesy of Pixabay.
There's a tremendous pressure surrounding this whole “goody-two-shoes” thing. It seems like if you don't forgive quickly, you're the bad guy, or you'll get sick. We're constantly told that resentment is poison. And yes, of course it is. But there's a danger in wanting to forgive “by force”: we end up invalidating what we feel.
There are betrayals, things that have happened to us —and we Venezuelans know exactly what I'm talking about, the kind that tear families apart— where saying “I forgive you” without justice feels like a lie. And lies don't heal. I'm not very religious; my faith is more earthly, and from this ground, I feel I have the right not to forgive if that means minimizing the damage.
Look at something I see here in Ontario. In my yard, I have an oak tree that was struck by lightning years ago. The tree didn't “forgive” the storm. What it did was close the wound. It formed a hard callus, an ugly but resistant bark, and kept growing. The scar is there; it's part of their story.
For me, that's true healing. And this is where I draw the line: forgiving is one thing, letting go is quite another.
Courtesy of Psychology and Mind.
Letting go means accepting what happened and that it's no longer going to control my life. But it doesn't mean I have to embrace the person who hurt me. Alice Miller said something very true: the body doesn't lie. If I say “I forgive you” superficially, but my gut is churning, I'm waging a civil war inside. And at this point, I want peace.
So what do I do if I don't get revenge, but I also don't fully forgive? Simple: I seek neutrality.
It's reaching that point where the memory no longer triggers tension, no longer ignites anger. It's looking at the scar and saying, “Wow, that hurt, but it's not bleeding anymore.” I've learned that you can stop hating without having to love, and it doesn't obligate me to invite the aggressor to my table either. There is indifference, which is a wonderful shield. It's withdrawing my energy. It's ceasing to waste my breath on vultures, so to speak.
Courtesy of Unsplash
Now that another Christmas is coming, and the cold is biting here, my gift is not to force myself. If I've been badly hurt, I'm not going to seek revenge, because that ties me to the other person, and I want to be free. But I'm also not going to offer a cheap apology if it doesn't come from the heart. I will continue on my path, honoring my scars like medals of survival, just like my oak tree.
I ask you with my heart in my hand, fellow Holos&Lotus members: Haven't you ever felt that annoying pressure to forgive when you weren't ready?
Growing as a person, seek and find what you need to be a better person in the Holos&Lotus Community. Surely, there's a topic that will catch your attention.
Community's own infographic Holos&Lotus
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
El perdonar sin estar listos es un falso perdón, ese que damos para no sentirnos mal, sin embargo lejos esta de ser real, más bien queda la rabia de haber sido "débiles" y es que para mi en lo personal solo disculpa porque para perdones esta Dios, no obstante si la disculpa de mi parte no será sincera prefiero abstenerme y no abrur la puerta a que estos actos sigan ocurriendo.
Pd: Querido @amigoponc, tu contenido es muy bueno, no bajes los brazos y sigue adelante y el día que menos te des cuenta verás que cada esfuerzo depositado dará sus frutos dulces.
¡Hola! @amigoponc. Admiro mucho tu perseverancia, estoy seguro que esa es la verdadera clave en Hive: la constancia.
A veces las comunidades grandes como @Holos-Lotus tienen mucho tráfico y los curadores no logran ver todo. No desistas. Tu voz es única y eventualmente encontrará su eco. Bendiciones.
Me gusto leer tu reflexión... También me hizo recordar al maestro Bert Hellinguer, quien manifiesta que el perdonar o pedir perdón te pone en un estado de "superioridad", a partir de esta idea, el perdón tomo para mi un matiz diferente, todos cometemos errores y hay muchos que no los reconocen y pueden llegar a la tumba con ellos, creo que no es sano atarnos a los procesos individuales de cada quien, honramos, asentimos y continuamos, siempre desde la esperanza, la belleza y la armonía, pensemos que cada herida que nos hayan hecho también ha formado al ser humano que somos hoy... ¡Felicidad y gratitud siempre!
Muchas gracias, @amigoponc por tu participación.
Uno aprende...
"... La marca está ahí, es parte de su historia."
Creo que no hay mucho que agregar a esto.
Saludos y bendiciones.
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Congratulations @amigoponc! You received a personal badge!
Wait until the end of Power Up Day to find out the size of your Power-Bee.
May the Hive Power be with you!
You can view your badges on your board and compare yourself to others in the Ranking
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@amigoponc, I failed to pay out 0.007 HIVE and 0.000 HBD to reward 4 comments in this discussion thread.
My wallet is running low on Hive or HBD. I will try again later.