I have a solemn confession to make. In a couple months, I am turning 50. Even as I type this I'm imagining anyone affiliated with my career making a frantic dash for my computer. 'You work in television, you can't admit that! Quick, say that you're turning 8. Or that you haven't been born yet.' Please.
I realize how often I've held onto pains that other people inflicted on me for days, weeks, even years. It was partly because I did not know any other way, and partly because I felt justified in my anger. But it was also because forgiveness does not always come as easily as it did in this one instance.