“I’m not going to forgive,” she said. – I’ll remember.
“Forgive,” the angel asked. – Forgive, that’ll be easier.
“Never,” she pressed her lips persistently. – It cannot be forgiven. Never.
“Will you retaliate?” he asked anxiously.
“No, will nor retaliate. I will rise above that.”
“Do you yearn for harsh punishment?”
“I don’t know what punishment would be enough.”
“Everyone has to pay for their decisions. Sooner or later, everyone … ”the angel said quietly. – It’s inevitable.
“To know.”
“Then forgive! Take the load off yourself. You are now far from those who have offended you.”
“No. I can not. I do not want. There is no forgiveness for them.”
“Well, that’s your thing,” the angel sighed. – Where do you intend to keep your insult?
“Here and here,” she touched her heart and head.
“Please be careful,” the angel asked. – Insult venom is very dangerous. It can create stone and pull you to the bottom, and it can give you a flame of rage that burns everything alive.
“It’s a touchstone, and I’m grateful for Anger,” she interrupted. – They’re on my side.
And the insult settled where she said – into her head and heart.
She was young and healthy, building her life, hot blood flowing in her veins, her lungs greedily breathing an air of freedom. She married, gave birth to children, made friends. Sometimes, of course, she was angry with them, but for the most part, she forgave. Sometimes she got angry and quarreled, then they forgave her. There was everything in life, and she tried not to think about her insult.
Many years had passed, before she heard it again, that hateful word “Forgive.”
“My husband cheated on me. I have constant misunderstandings and quarrels with my kids. Money doesn’t love me. What should I do? she asked an elderly psychologist.
He listened carefully, explained a lot, for some reason he constantly asked her to talk about her childhood. She was angry and was translating the conversation to nowadays, but he brought her back to her childhood. It seemed to her that he was wandering on the opposite side streets of her memory, trying to shed light, to shed light on that long-standing insult. She didn’t want to, so she opposed it. But he still saw it. A real meticulous character was this psychiatrist.
“You need to clean yourself,” he summed up. – Your insults have spilled. Later insults accumulated on them, like polyps on the coral reef. This ridge has become an obstacle in the path of life energy flow. This is why you have problems in your personal life and your finances are not good. There are sharp edges on the ridge, they hurt your gentle soul. Inside the reefs are settled and twisted, different emotions, they poison your blood with waste of life activities, and thus attract new and new settlers.
“Yes, I feel something similar,” the woman nodded. – From time to time I get nervous, sometimes depression suffocates me and sometimes I just want to kill everybody. Okay, it needs to be cleaned. But how?
“Forgive that first, most insulting offense,” the psychologist advised. – There will be no foundation – and the ridge will fall apart.
“No way! the woman exclaimed. – It’s just anger, because that’s how it was! I have a right to be offended!”
“Do you want to be right or happy?” the psychologist asked. But the woman did not answer, she just got up and left, taking her coral reef with her.
Several more years have passed. The woman was again waiting for an appointment, this time with a doctor. The doctor watched the footage, flipped through the analysis, frowned, and bit his lip.
– Doctor, why are you silent? she couldn’t help herself.
– Do you have relatives? the doctor asked.
– My parents died, my husband and I are divorced, I have children and grandchildren, too. Why do you need my relatives?
– You see, you have a tumor. Here it is – the doctor pointed to a skull image where she had a tumor. – According to the analysis, the tumor is not good. This explains both your constant headaches, and insomnia, and rapid fatigue. The worst part is that the tumor tends to grow rapidly. It’s increasing, that’s bad.
“So what do I have to do right now? Have surgery?”she asked, frozen from terrible misgivings.
“No,” the doctor frowned even more. – Here are your ECG recordings from last year. You have a very weak heart. It seems to be tight on all sides and unable to operate at full power. It may not withstand surgery. Therefore, the heart should be healed first and then …
He didn’t finish, and the woman realized that “then” might never come. Either the heart won’t hold, or the tumor will grow.
“By the way, your blood test is also not good. Hemoglobin is low, leukocytes are high … I will prescribe medication for you” said the doctor. ” And you have to help yourself. You need to bring your body relatively well and at the same time morally prepare for surgery.”
“And how?”
“Positive emotions, warm relationships, communication with relatives. Fall in love after all. Flip through the photo album, remember your happy childhood.”
The woman just smiled dryly.
“Try to forgive everyone, especially your parents,” the doctor unexpectedly advised her. – That’s very good for the soul. In my practice, there have been times when forgiveness has worked wonders.
“Really?” the woman asked ironically.
“Imagine. In medicine, there are many assistive instruments. Quality care …. Forgiveness can also be a cure, and free of charge and no prescription.”
Forgive. Or die. Forgive or die? To die, but not to forgive? When choice is a matter of life and death, all you have to do is decide which side to look at.
Headache. Heartache. “Where will you keep your insult?” “Here and here.” It’s painful there now. Maybe the insult had grown too much, and she wanted more. It occurred to her to throw out her hostess, to be able to take care over her whole body. The stupid insult did not realize that the body would not endure, that it would die.
She remembered her main perpetrators of childhood insults. Fathers and mothers who either worked or quarreled all the time. They didn’t love her the way she wanted. Nothing helped: no heels, no praise, no fulfillment of their demands, no protest and rebellion. Then they parted ways, and each started a new family, with no place for her. At sixteen, they sent her to a technical school, to another city, handing her a ticket, a suitcase with things, and three thousand rubles to begin with, that’s all – from that moment on she became independent and decided, “I won’t forgive.” She carried this insult all her life, swearing that she would die with her, and that seems to be the case.
She has children, grandchildren, and she has a widow, Sergei Stepanovich, from work, who tried to care for her carelessly and did not want her to die. Well, that’s true – it’s too early to die! “I’m sorry,” she decided. “At least I should try.”
“Parents, I forgive you for everything,” she said uncertainly. The words sounded pathetic and unconvincing. Then she took a paper and a pen and wrote: Dear parents! Dear parents! I’m not angry anymore. I forgive you all.
There was bitterness in her mouth, her heart tightened, and her head ached even more. But she squeezed her hand harder and wrote directly behind each other, “I forgive you. I forgive you.” There was no relief, only increased anxiety.
“Not so,” the angel whispered. – The river always flows in one direction. They’re older, you’re younger. They were the first, and then you came. You didn’t give birth to them, they gave birth to you. They gave you the opportunity to appear in this world. Be grateful to them for that!
“I’m grateful,” the woman said. – And I really want to forgive them.
-“Children have no right to judge their parents. We don’t forgive parents. But they are asked to forgive.”
“For what?” she asked. ” Did I do something wrong to them?”
“You did something wrong to yourself. Why did you leave that insult in? Why is your head hurting? What kind of stone do you carry in your chest? What is poisoning your blood? Why is your life not flowing with a rich river but flowing with weak streams? Do you want to be right or healthy?”
“Is it all about being angry with your parents? Is that anger, I suppose, so devastating to me?”
“I warned you,” the angel recalled. – Angels always warn: do not pile up, do not carry, do not poison yourself with insults. They rot, stink and poison everything alive around. We warn! If one chooses in favor of insult, we have no right to interfere. And if in favor of forgiveness – we have to help him.
“Can I still break that coral reef? Or is it too late?”
“It’s never too late to try,” said the soft angel.
“But they are long gone! Now I have no one to ask for forgiveness, and what can it look like?”
“You pray. They will hear. And they may not hear. After all, you’re not doing it for them, but for your own sake.”
“Dear parents,” she began. – Excuse me, please, if something went wrong … and forgive me for everyting in general.
She spoke for a while, then fell silent and listened to herself. No miracle – there were heartache, headache, no special feelings, everything is as it always was.
“I don’t trust myself,” she admitted. – It’s been so many years …
“Try differently,” the angel advised. – Become a child again.
– How?
– Kneel to your knees and talk to them like a kid: Mom, Dad.
The woman hesitated a bit, and dropped to her knees. She cupped her hands together, looked above, and said, “Mom. Dad.” And then again, “Mom, Dad …”. Her eyes opened wide and began to tear. “Mom, Dad … it’s me, your daughter … forgive me … forgive me.” Her breasts shook with tears, then tears streamed. And she kept saying, “Excuse me. Please forgive me. I had no right to judge you. Mom, Dad …”.
It was long time since she cried and her tears stream dried up. Exhausted, she sat on the floor, leaning against the couch.
– How are you? the angel asked.
– I do not know. I do not understand. I seem to be empty, ”she said.
“Repeat this daily for forty days,” said the angel. – As a cure for healing. Or, if you like, instead of chemo.
– Yes. Yes. Forty days. I will.
Something throbbed, tingled, and covered with warm waves in her chest. Maybe those were pieces of reef. For the first time in a long time, she was fine, there was nothing, her head did not hurt.
Source: Elfikarussian.ru