WHY I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU: Why Being Unforgiving IS Okay Sometimes

We’re always taught either ‘forgive and forget’ or ‘forgive but don’t forget’, but why aren’t we ever told ‘don’t forgive and don’t forget’? What about the times when someone doesn’t deserve even a bit of your forgiveness? Why is our strength based on whether or not you can "find it in your heart" to forgive someone? 

I can honestly say that this has very rarely happened in my life. I am a fairly forgiving person — I tend to brush it off my shoulders and move on with my life. I have had people break me or my heart and have eventually realized that I did forgive them; I’d had the time to heal, process and accept. Truth be told, there’s only one person that I know I can never forgive and in my opinion, I have every right not to. I may not forgive someone, but that doesn't mean I'm looking for revenge either. I'm really not.

The thing about betrayal is that the closer the person is to you, the more painful it is. When someone that you told everything to, who knew everything about you, knew your demons and your struggles, and made promises to you that you never imagined they’d break, betrays you, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. It’s hard to deal with something like that, especially when it comes out of left field. 

I went through a lot of different phases when this happened to me recently. I cried, I was sad, I was angry, I was numb to it, crazily angry again, and then the indifference set in. Yes, it makes me sad that it happened. It makes me angry that it happened. But I found that I could not stay angry. Well, not that I was incapable. More that I chose not to. It wasn’t worth it…that person did what they did, didn’t attempt to mend it or apologize, and that made them unworthy of my time, thoughts or emotions. Being angry was pointless. 

So to that person: no. I’m not angry with you. But I can never, ever forgive you. 

I doubt you want forgiveness anyway. I mean, the chances that you even realize you were wrong are very slim. You’ll always have your own, twisted side of the story and that’s fine. Getting away was refreshing, and I know that eventually you’ll be nothing but a distant memory. Do I still find myself upset sometimes, confused, wanting to scream? Sure. But all the emotions I have had? They have been bottled up into absolute refusal to forgive you (for the most part). 

We can be told over and over again that when you’re unforgiving, you’re a bad person; that the ‘right’ thing to do is to forgive everyone no matter what they’ve done to you. That forgiveness is what strong people do. I no longer believe that. I don’t have to do anything I don’t feel that I should, and that revelation in itself has been incredibly freeing. 

Don’t forgive someone because you think that you have to. Also, don’t not forgive someone who might deserve it because you’re mad at the moment. It seems confusing but in all honesty, you have to really feel out the situation and find out what’s right for your well being and your mental state. But I do have one suggestion for you: let the anger out, and keep it out. If you aren’t willing to forgive someone, chances are they don’t deserve to take up any of your time anymore. 

TRICHOTI-WHAT? : WHAT IS TRICHOTILLOMANIA?

To start out this fun little lesson, I'd like to show you two very deceiving photos of me.

No, they aren't photoshopped. That's not why they are deceiving. 

I'll show you two less deceiving photos.

If it isn't obvious enough, I am basically forced to partake in the trend of filling in my brows. Not that I don't enjoy it, because I do. It's like art to me, making them look the same and be perfectly to my liking. But I don't 100% do it because I want to. I kind of have to. 

The last two photos aren't actually as bad as they have been, and probably will be again in the future. A closer look will show you a lack of the "outer tail" of both my eyebrows, as well as gaps both on the top and the bottom of them. No, I did not go crazy with my tweezers - I pulled them out with my fingers. 

Trichotillomania is (defined by google, because I can't word it as well as they can) "a disorder that involved recurrent, irresistible urges to pull out body hair". For a lot of people with Trichotillomania, it's the hair on their head that they incessantly pull out, but for me, it's always been my eyebrows. 

I don't even remember when I started doing it. People would notice me doing it and ask me to stop, and I get told all the time it's uncomfortable to watch, or get asked if it hurts. No, it doesn't. It actually brings me a disgusting amount of satisfaction to pull the hairs from my eyebrows, especially when I get all the way up to the follicle. I do it when I'm anxious, most of the time, but sometimes I'm just bored and I do it. 

This makes growing out my eyebrows nearly impossible. And that's when many people say "then just don't do it!"

I wish it were that easy!!!

I go through periods when I don't do it, but once I start up again that's it...I will most likely completely destroy at least one eyebrow. Once it's halfway gone, I tell myself that I might as well destroy the rest. Then it's so messed up that I want to cry and in a frenzy, run to go fill it in to see just how bad the damage is. And the cycle continues.

It definitely sucks that I feel like I can't be seen without my brows filled in, but it also motivates me to try and resist the urge. 

I guess I wanted to write this because I know a lot of people don't understand why people do it, or why they can't just stop, and to get it out there that it IS a real thing! 

(Shoutout to Anastasia Beverly Hills DipBrow Pomade in medium brown for saving my life time and time again)

(I also can't believe I am putting those photos up because to me, it's super embarrassing)

STORY TIME: MY PATH TO FIGHTING MY ISSUES

I considered never speaking directly about myself and my own issues simply because I didn’t know that I wanted everything to be so "public". Obviously I don’t share every detail of my life, but this seemed super personal. But I decided I should talk about it, not only for myself but for anyone else who might benefit from it. 

Everyone is different. Some people have lifelong battles with mental illness, some have chunks of time taken over by it, some have only experienced one major bump in the road, and others have never struggled with it at all.

I’m here to tell you that they are all…well, not “normal” per se, but not particularly abnormal either. You’re not alone if any of those categories seem to fit you to a T. 

Because everyone’s path in life is different, I figured I’d share my personal experience battling my own personal issues. We’ve all got something, and we’ve all got our own story. 

I was a troubled kid. At least at home I was. I got in trouble a lot, fought with everyone, cried and got incredibly angry for no apparent reason, and could never seem to control my emotions from completely taking over. But at school, I was quiet, shy and awkward. I had a hard time making friends early on, and my number one fear in the entire world was having to speak in front of the class. My face would turn bright red, I would forget how to breathe, and words would be cut off while I gasped for the air I was lacking from the nerves building up inside of me.

Traumatizing was an understatement every time I had to speak up, or got called on, or even had to get paired off into partners. I remember wanting to get up and run away if everyone had a partner and nobody wanted to be mine. 

At night, I would be upset and cry and dread going to school, but dread being at home too because I was constantly in a fight with my parents. 

Time went on, and it wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that things started to make more sense. I don’t remember a lot about that year because I seemed to have blocked it out of my memory completely. But I know that was my first long and serious period of depression. I was in such a funk, but thought I was doing a great job of hiding it. But apparently I wasn’t, because my best friend picked up on it. I didn’t know what to tell her, because I didn’t actually KNOW what was wrong. I didn’t think I had depression, I just thought I was in a long term bad mood. I was sick of high school, and the people around me. That was all.

I came out of it, though. But freshman year of college, it happened all over again. My friends would have to drag me out of my bed, which I laid in in my pitch dark room in the middle of the day. They thought I didn’t like them anymore, but I didn’t know how to explain to them that that wasn’t it at all, I just didn’t know what was wrong and all I knew is that I wanted to be alone and sleep. 

It was around this time that I started to know that this, along with my crippling anxiety about almost everything, was a problem. The only time I didn’t have that anxious, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling was when I was asleep. I woke up with it, and fell asleep with it. 

I finally decided to tell my mom. I felt relief that I was finally putting some of it into words, and even better, she understood. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t abnormal. And I could fix it. I didn’t HAVE to live like this! 

I went to a doctor, explained how I felt, and was prescribed Zoloft. I’ve been on it ever since. It significantly reduces my anxiety, and I haven’t had a long-term, major depressive episode in a long time. I still get down, I still get anxious, I still want to be left alone sometimes. But the difference is phenomenal. If I don’t take my medication two days in a row, I can tell. Everyone around me can tell, because I feel myself falling back into the mess I was before it.

Now, medication isn’t for everyone at all. Some people benefit more from therapy, and other methods of coping with their problems. But for me, this has helped me more than I could ever explain.

Whatever your problems are, there’s something or someone out there to help you. You don’t have to live miserably. You are not your problems, and your problems do not own you.