Rising from the ashes: No justified resentments
It has been three years since that fateful evening in 2021 when my father had a stroke. It is not the stroke itself that I struggled with, but all that it unearthed. It felt like a churning of the seas, and so much good and bad came out of it. Things I had never known, things I had never been aware of, things I had taken for granted, and so much more. As more and more stuff surfaced, I felt overwhelmed by the furor. It was almost as if I couldn't breathe, as if I was drowning in the turbulence. I felt an intense need to work on myself, to understand who I really was, and what I was meant to do in this world. It has been three years since I embarked on that quest, and it has changed how I look at the world in so many ways. As one of my favorite poets T. S. Eliot says: We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring. Will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time.
Today, I write about one of the things I have struggled with the most in these three years: resentment. Before this happened, I was a happy and peaceful person, and I had many deep friendships. I valued these people a lot and went out of my way to always be there for them. And I truly believed that the feeling was mutual, that these people would do the same for me. But after months of watching my dad in the hospital, I turned into an angry, bitter and fearful person. I can see now that it was not easy to be around me. But then, I could only see how some of these people that I truly trusted and believed in vanished from my life. They stopped calling, texting, or making any efforts to check on me. Days went by, then weeks, then months, and then years. I couldn't believe this. Every day, I battled with those questions: Did I mean nothing to them? Was it so easy to just forget me? What kind of people abandoned their friends when they went through something like this? How could they?
I decided that I wouldn't be a doormat, and I didn't want any friendships that were one-sided. I cut them out from my life too. No messages, no calls, nothing. Birthdays came and went by, and I let them. Then this year, out of the blue, one of "those" friends reached out to me. Apologized that they hadn't checked on me and wished they had done more. I could have chosen not to reply, but I wasn't that kind of person. I spoke to them, and it turned out that person had gone through something devastating too, and had struggled with it for two years. I felt awful and apologized for not being there, too. Something weird happened in this moment. My long held resentment of years melted away just like that, and I wished nothing but good for this person. We were back to being very close friends.
This incident made me deliberate on my resentments, and I still had a few to let go. It felt like baggage I shouldn't be carrying. It weighed me down a lot, and it wasn't worth it. Even though I agreed with this logically, I couldn't fully let go. A month after this, I stumbled upon Wayne Dyer, and one of his powerful speeches - No justified resentments (which is the inspiration for this post). This speech was fundamental in changing my perspective, and I reproduce below the story from his speech that touched me very deeply:
There’s a story from many years ago that tells of an elementary school teacher whose name was Mrs. Thompson. As she stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the first day of school, she told her children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and told them that she loved them all the same. But that simply was not true, because there, in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn’t play well with the other children. His clothes were messy and he constantly needed a bath. Teddy could be unpleasant at times. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen and making bold X’s and finally putting a Big “F” on the top of his papers. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught she was required to review each child’s past records. She put Teddy’s off till last. When she finally reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddys first grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners. He’s a joy to be around.”
His second-grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is an excellent student and well-liked by his classmates. But he’s troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.”
His third-grade teacher wrote, “His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest. His home life will soon affect him if steps aren’t taken.”
Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and sometimes he even sleeps in class.”
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddys. His present was clumsily wrapped in heavy brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she explained how pretty the bracelet was while putting it on and then dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.
Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, “Mrs. Thompson, today you smell just like my mom used to.”
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On this very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic and instead she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson began to pay close attention to Teddy as she worked with him. As time went on his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class. Despite her lie, he had become one of her teacher’s pets. A year later she found a note under the door from Teddy telling her that she was the best teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Six years passed by and to her surprise, another note came from Teddy. He wrote that he had finished high school third in his class and that she was still the best teacher that he had ever had in his whole life. Four years later, another letter came, saying that while things had been tough at times, he stayed in school and stuck with it and that he had graduated from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the very best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Four more years passed by and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he had decided to go a little further. Again, assuring her that she was still
the best and favorite teacher he ever had. The letter was signed Theodore Stoddard MD.
The story doesn’t end there. There was one final letter that spring. Teddy said that he had met this girl and that he was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place, at his wedding, that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. She wore that bracelet, the one with the several rhinestones missing. She also made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
After the wedding, they hugged each other as Dr. Teddy Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson ear, "Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back,“Teddy you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.”
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