Throughout my life, my brother and I were never particularly fond of each other. One would say that the opposite was always jealous of him, and the other would call the opposite a selfish person.
Over the years, both my brother and I had gone through the sibling rivalries, as most brothers do. The constant fighting that ensued over 2 decades was just too much to bear any longer, so I found a small window of opportunity to say, “excuse me, thanks…but no thanks. I want to wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours and I’ll see you if we do ever cross paths again.”
Yeah, two decades of his constant psycho-babbling to my mother to try to convince her that I was a selfish human being. I didn’t try getting even over the years, and thanks to what ever higher entity that stopped me from doing so, because it just wasn’t worth it in the end.
If I tried doing anything, especially during the heated exchanges in most commonly known as my mother’s living room, he would definitely react immediately. You never want to try to fight fire with fire, as the saying goes. I learned a great amount of self-control over the years and I’m fortunate enough to have removed myself from escalating quarrels that would’ve resulted in cops being called (as they were once before).
No, I didn’t hold, and I continue not to hold a speck of hate in my heart of my brother; on the other hand, he can go on a ramble about how I want to keep all my hard-earned money to myself instead of giving the copious amounts to my mother.
When we hate people, we let them have power over us. We let them control our appetites, our sleep, our emotions, and even our reactions. Can you imagine the joy that would be beset on my brother if I ranted about him on my podcasts for the next 20-50 years? He would feel that he’s the winner.
Let’s try not to get even with people, because we’re ultimately going to hurt ourselves more than them.