Are you holding a grudge? About?

“Mama may not always be right, but she does the right thing in the end.”

Bobby Bouche, The Waterboy.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, saints and… well, maybe not so saintly folks, I welcome you all to this slightly unconventional sermon on a topic that’s as old as time itself – the art of being petty and holding grudges! Now, before you raise those eyebrows and wonder if I’ve lost my sermon-plotting marbles, let me assure you that today, we’re going to embark on a comical journey that just might teach us a thing or two about ourselves and the power of forgiveness.

You see, we’ve all had our moments of pettiness, haven’t we? That time when your neighbor’s dog dug up your prized rose bushes, or when your colleague “borrowed” your favorite pen and never returned it – oh, the audacity! And let’s not even get started on that legendary feud over who makes the best potato salad at the church potluck. Yes, my friends, we’ve all been there, done that, and possibly even contemplated sending an anonymous “how dare you!” letter.

But fear not, for today, we shall unravel the mysteries of grudge-holding and the joys of pettiness with a twist of humor and a dollop of encouragement. For in our shared moments of pettiness, we often discover our most endearing quirks. We learn that beneath the surface, we’re all just a bunch of humans, prone to holding onto grudges as if they were our cherished heirlooms.

So, let’s chuckle at ourselves, marvel at our stubbornness, and, most importantly, let’s explore how the mighty act of forgiveness can lead us to a lighter, brighter, and less petty existence. After all, life’s too short to keep track of who didn’t return our Tupperware containers, right? Join me in this comical journey, and who knows, by the end of it, we might just find a way to let go of those grudges and embrace a life filled with laughter, love, and a little less passive-aggressive note-writing!

Are You Still With Me?

Well, buckle up, because we’re about to dive deep into some real talk. While lighthearted and novelty writing has its place, today we’re delving into something I’ve carried since birth – a good old grudge. So, as enjoyable as it is to start the day with all-inclusive, participation-trophy style writing, let’s switch gears and get down to business!

To our newer readers, a warm welcome to you. I genuinely hope you brought no preconceived notions along for the ride. And to my beloved returning readers, a heartfelt thank you. Every time my phone lights up with one of your likes or comments, it serves as a powerful reminder that I’m not navigating this world entirely on my own. And trust me, that’s a monumental revelation for someone like me!

What was the damned prompt again??

Oh, Grudges, and My Personal History. If you believe that forgiveness reigns supreme in the eyes of the Almighty, well, you might want to reconsider your choice of reading material. I came into this world with a grudge, quite literally – a birthmark on the side of my head, a constant reminder of my affinity for society’s not-so-charming aspects. I mean, for goodness’ sake, my boyfriend croons ‘Let It Go’ incessantly. I adore him for it, but when it comes to actually being pals with my 14-year-old daughter, after blindly purchasing that digital indulgence, I’m pretty sure I’ve earned myself a lifetime of punishment.

Gripey, Gritty, Grudges – these are the foundational elements of ‘GIRL WORLD.’ As a woman, if you haven’t mastered the fine art of holding a grudge based on another woman’s natural hair color by the tender age of 10, let me tell you, life’s about to throw you some curveballs. You’ll experience a level of heartache that might just take your breath away, honey. It’ll push you to a point where you either wake up one day with an epiphany, or you simply roll over and call it quits. And if it isn’t clear by now, I’m definitely speaking from some firsthand experience here.

Waking up one day and realizing that you have no idea what you like or who you are can be a profoundly disorienting experience. It’s as if you’ve been playing a role in a never-ending drama, one where you’ve been cast as the perennial people-pleaser, the reliable doormat, and the ever-willing shoulder to cry on. All those years of kindness and caring, which you thought were your strengths, were often misconstrued as weakness by those who surrounded you, and they took full advantage. It’s a sobering moment when you realize that you’ve spent a lifetime in the shadow of others’ expectations, a ghostwriter of your own story.

But here’s the ironic twist: even when you decide to step out from behind the curtains and take center stage in your life, some loved ones may not quite know how to handle it. They might have grown accustomed to your unyielding support and compliance, and now that you’re making choices for yourself, they’re left bewildered. Suddenly, you find yourself having to ask to be included in the good memories, the adventures, and the laughter, with a tone that’s tinged with comical sarcasm and just a touch of pettiness. You might say, “Oh, dear family, could you please make some space for me in those heartwarming family stories? I promise I won’t be too independent; I’ll still seek your approval before I tie my shoelaces. After all, it’s not every day that I choose my own cereal brand!” It’s your way of gently reminding them that you too deserve a starring role in your own life’s narrative, complete with quirky character development and plot twists.

The past 15 months of my life have been nothing short of a rollercoaster ride through the darkest corners of uncertainty, a journey that brought me face to face with an identity crisis like none I’d ever experienced before. It all began when I took the brave step of moving across the country, leaving behind a nightmarish existence trapped in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship with a meth-addicted truck driver. It was a tumultuous evening escape, a desperate drive towards the unknown, fueled by a sheer determination to save myself.

But little did I know that the universe had more trials in store for me. Just as I was finding my footing in this new life, grappling with the profound trauma of my past, a sudden and devastating loss shattered my world. The grief was relentless, like an unyielding storm that left me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself. It was during this storm that I received a diagnosis of autism, a revelation that, rather than providing clarity, only added another layer of complexity to my already fragile sense of self. I found myself at a crossroads, feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty, struggling to reconcile my past, my new diagnosis, and the raw wounds of my recent loss.

To make matters even more challenging, I found myself without a stable home, thrust into the unforgiving world of homelessness. Each night became a battle for survival, a harsh reminder of the tumultuous journey that had brought me here. It was in the midst of this chaos that I truly confronted the depths of my identity crisis. I realized that I had spent years living for others, losing myself in their expectations and demands. But now, with nothing left to lose, I was forced to confront the question that had haunted me for months: Who am I?

This harrowing journey, though filled with pain and uncertainty, has also been a crucible of self-discovery. It has pushed me to my limits, but it has also revealed my resilience and strength. As I navigate the labyrinth of my identity, I am slowly learning to embrace the beautiful and complex mosaic of my being, autism and all. I am finding solace in the small moments of grace that life offers, in the kindness of strangers, and in the strength of my own spirit.

Through the darkness of the past 15 months, I have come to understand that my identity is not defined by my past or my circumstances. It is a constantly evolving journey, a story still being written, and I am the author. I may not have all the answers, and the path ahead remains uncertain, but I am determined to rebuild my life, one step at a time, with the knowledge that I am stronger than I ever imagined. And as I continue to heal, I hold onto the hope that someday, I will emerge from this storm into a brighter, more authentic version of myself, ready to face whatever challenges life may bring.

In the landscape of my life, grudges have become like old companions, walking closely beside me, and their presence has intensified in recent times. It’s not that I’m inclined to carry these heavy burdens, but rather that the individuals tied to these grudges have repeatedly violated the sacred boundaries I’ve set. With each transgression, it becomes increasingly challenging to offer forgiveness or even the possibility of reconciliation.

I am now standing at a great precipice, with nothing to do but fall and no one around to catch me. The essence of my trust has been so thoroughly violated that it feels irreparable. It’s as though the social contract that governs our interactions as human beings has been shredded, leaving a tattered and fragile web of connections. The very fabric of society seems frayed, and the concept of common social respect has eroded to a point where it feels like a distant memory.

Yet, even in this seemingly grim scenario, there is a glimmer of hope. I find myself in a precarious position, teetering on the edge of a new beginning. The weight of my grudges may be burdensome, but it has also honed my resilience. It fuels a fire within me, pushing me to strive for success like never before. In this world of doubt and uncertainty, I’m learning to harness the power of my grudges as a source of motivation and determination. I am driven by the belief that I can overcome these challenges, emerge stronger, and find success beyond my wildest imagination.

Though the journey ahead may be treacherous, I am determined to navigate it with grace and purpose. With every step, I will carry the lessons of my past and the weight of my grudges, using them not as anchors but as stepping stones toward a brighter future. And as I forge my path, I hope to find a way to heal and rebuild the trust that has been shattered, not just for myself but for a society that desperately needs a resurgence of common social respect.

Enough about me, dear congregation, now go forth, interact, and may you all have a splendid day – and remember, comments and interaction are not just encouraged, they’re practically a sacrament in our quest for a healthy, happy community! Amen and have a glorious day!