OK. I’m in a little bit of a bind this week.
I watched an interview this week that demonstrated how a good, heartfelt grudge can withstand multiple appeals to act on our better instincts.
It also got me thinking about the specific approach that helped me let go of the good, heartfelt grudge I held against my stepfather (spoiler: it wasn’t an appeal to my better instincts).
Just one problem.
The interview I saw featured President Donald Trump.
And over the past 10 years, I've found that simply mentioning his name tends to trigger either furious condemnation or full-throated support, with little room in between.
That’s not what I’m going for here.
I don’t want to debate the President or his politics. Not because I’m afraid of tipping my hand (I’ve never voted for him), but because I feel that ground is pretty well covered.
I want to talk about this 80-second clip from the President’s interview, which aired on “60 Minutes” last Sunday, because it provides some insight into how hard it can be to let go of a grudge and it prompted me think about what ultimately allowed me to do it:
Q: “You pass away. You’re entering the next life and all you have to do to enter paradise is feel love and forgiveness for James Comey, Nancy Pelosi, anyone who you have expressed hate for over the years.
“Do you think you can do it?”
President Trump: “Well then, I wouldn’t be real, would I? The easy answer to that is, ‘Oh yes, I could forgive.’
Q: “No, I don’t think it’s an easy question at all.”
President Trump: “I found them to be extremely dishonest people, very bad people, very bad for our country. I love our country far more than I can love people and people like that.”
Q: “Is the answer no?”
Trump: “The answer is, ‘No.’ I want to be honest.”
OK. Let’s pause there for a second.
This first appeal for the President to soften the hostility he holds for certain people is cast in very spiritual terms. Forgiveness and love are presented as the antidotes to a grudge.
I was raised Catholic, and while I’m no longer practicing, my values and sense of morality certainly reflect my upbringing. I have always seen resentment and the desire for revenge as being sinful or at the very least unbecoming.
In fact, the recognition that revenge was “bad” was one of the things that kept me from acting on the bone-deep loathing I held toward my stepfather for 20 years.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to let go of the underlying animosity I felt, though. Sure, it might be more virtuous, but I also felt like I’d be letting my stepfather off the hook. Worse, I felt like it would be another example of my own inability to ever really stand up to him.
And maybe, I thought, maybe I’m just ugly on the inside. My soul was too dark to let me fully forgive what had happened.
OK. Let’s continue with the interview:
Q: “Before the judgment throne of God.”
Trump: “Before the judgment.
“No, I think they were very bad people, and I dislike, I can use the word hate. I do hate some of my enemies. I think they’ve been terrible. Look at what they’ve put me through. The weaponization.”
Q: “Mr. President, Mr. President. You have had the most charmed and remarkable life of any American in my entire lifetime, and you are telling me you couldn’t find it in your heart to forgive some of your enemies?
After all that’s been given to you?”
Trump: “I mean it’s such an easy answer. All I have to do is say, ‘Yes, I can.’ “
Q: “Again, I don’t think it’s an easy answer. That’s why I asked it.”
Trump: “Can I be an honest? I probably can not do that, no. Because I do hate some of my enemies and I always will.”
The second tactic the interviewer employs here is to point to a broader perspective. He suggests the President look at all the things that have gone well in his life to show that what he’s hung up on isn't really that important.
He’s sweating the small stuff.
I tried to do that, too.
My mom had divorced my stepfather in 2004. Within a few years, all his ties to my family had been severed. I no longer had to see him or speak with him. I found a partner I love, and we have a marriage I value deeply. I’ve had a remarkably charmed career in which I became the one thing I always wanted to do (a sports reporter) and hosted a radio show.
And still, I couldn’t let go of the hostility I felt.
I have seen several people point to this specific clip as proof of Trump’s hardened heart. He's been poisoned, so to speak, by the resentment and bitterness he feels toward the people he’s defined as his enemies, and he refuses to let go.
While I would never say that I believe the hostility he feels is justified or warranted, I can say that I recognize and, to some extent, identify with his inability and/or unwillingness to let go.
Five years ago, if you had offered me eternal salvation if I could find love in my heart for my stepfather, I think my answer would have been the same one Trump offered.
I had my reasons. He had been unfaithful to my mom. He had lied about it. He had tested positive for HIV while they were married, and while my mom remained healthy, he could never be honest to any of us about what had happened. Throw in the retirement savings that he’d spent through, and I could marshal quite a bit of justification for the resentment I harbored.
I knew this wasn’t entirely healthy. I talked to therapists. I did the exercises they suggested like writing letters I never mailed or conducting role-playing exercises in which I acted out my anger. That might dilute my resentment for a little while, but the feeling always returned.
What ultimately worked wasn’t a spiritual approach, nor was it trying to put the whole thing in perspective.
It was taking a more pragmatic approach and asking myself: What was I getting out of my grudge? What is it costing me?
📋 Cost-benefit analysis
For years, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to confront my stepfather.
Sometimes I’d travel back to a moment in my adolescence and picture myself shouting at him, “You’re not my real father!”
More frequently, I’d imagine myself as an adult interviewing him as I would the subject of one of the stories I wrote as a newspaper reporter. Challenging him about his infidelity or asking blunt questions about where specific chunks of money had gone. Later, when I began working in radio, I would daydream about interviewing him live on the air.
Occasionally, I would imagine myself punching him.
The other tangible result of my grudge was that it created something of a template for how I handled other conflicts. I would stew over slights, both real and perceived. I was particularly sensitive when I felt I had not sufficiently stood up for myself.
The only benefit that I could attribute to my grudge was that holding on to my anger helped me feel some small sliver of strength. I hadn’t given up on the idea of getting even with him or forgotten what he’d done.
This wasn’t a sign of my strength, though. It reflected the shame I felt because I didn’t believe I’d ever really stood up to him. Not when I was a teenager chafing under the rules he put in place. Not when I was 28 and found out he had cheated on my mom. Not in the years that followed when he refused to be honest about anything that had happened. Recognizing the shame I felt turned out to be particularly important.
I had to stop feeling inadequate for not having protected my family better. I had to recognize that I’d done the best I could in a very complicated and difficult situation. Once I did that, I could accept what had happened as a closed chapter in my life.
I want to emphasize that this was a pragmatic approach, not a spiritual one. I don’t think I was wrong to be as angry as I was at my stepfather. I know it was unproductive, though. It sustained the pain my stepfather had caused instead of soothing it.
At this point, I have achieved a sense of closure over everything that happened, and while I still occasionally think about something he once did, it's rare and fleeting.
I wouldn’t say that I’ve forgiven my stepfather. I don’t feel any love for him.
In a spiritual sense, perhaps I have homework to do, but I have found peace, which is a huge improvement over where I was just 5 years ago.
pragmatic peace sounds like a good landing place for you. sorry the path has been so fraught.
I contend that it was an easy question for him to answer, because in reality, he does not believe in God or that there is any final reckoning with a supreme power when one dies. To him, it’s a silly fable that he goes along with in order to curry favor with certain groups of people. He is, above all, a liar.