A grudge can be good for you??? 🤯

I’ve written at least four different drafts of this email in the two weeks since you’ve heard from me, and each time I wound up feeling the whole thing was just way too heavy.

I suppose that is hard to avoid given the subject.

After all, I was talking about how the death of my mother brought to the surface a very deep-rooted, life-defining grudge that I harbored for nearly 20 years against her second husband.

But grudges don’t have to be so serious. In fact, most of them aren’t, and I’ve spent enough years in therapy that I don’t want this newsletter to feel like my weekly visit there. So before I wade back into my own little pit of resentment, I want to use a bunch of emojis as I talk about something more managable: a golf glove.

Now this glove did not belong to me. It was purchased by a subscriber to this newsletter, who was generous enough to share the harmless little grudge that resulted from the fact that he was unhappy with the fit:

For the record: The fact he wound up still using the glove is just (chef’s kiss). Perfect kicker.

But honestly, the actions are so reasonable that were I to be appointed judge of this particular grudge, I’d be inclined to say that this isn’t a grudge at all, but more like a boundary.

I’m basing this ruling in part on expert testimony previously received from the honorable Dr. Amy Mezulis, the co-founder and chief clinical officer at Joon Care in addition to having previously overseen the clinical psychology PhD program at Seattle Pacific University.

I asked her specifically if it was possible to have a healthy or perhaps harmless grudge.

Dr. Mezulis: “The reframe on a ‘grudge’ could be setting an appropriate boundary with a person or situation that has demonstrated it can cause you harm.”

In other words: You can minimize respond to a negative experience by minimizing or even cutting off contact without categorizing it as a grudge.

This isn’t just semantics, either.

Dr. Mezulis: “Setting a behavioral boundary is different psychologically than the cognitive and emotional effects of holding on to negative thoughts and feelings.”

In the case of the golf glove, our begrudger was disappointed that a business he had patronized for a number of years wasn’t more accommodating about a purchase that he regretted.

He communicated this clearly to the clerk, who was unmoved.

The begrudger then decided to no longer patronize the store.¹

There is no evidence of actual anger or negative emotional reaction to the aforementioned store, which — according to our expert witness — is the hallmark of an actual honest-to-goodness grudges.

Dr. Mezulis: “Cognitively, grudges keep our attention on the past rather than the present. Emotionally, grudges yield control over our well being or happiness to another person.

“If we can separate the negative thoughts and feelings from the lesson learned from the negative experience, we can keep the good (the boundary or lesson) and leave the bad (the negative thoughts and feelings).”

In other words, if this were an actual grudge, we would see signs of emotional distress. The begrudger might feel compelled to pound his fist against the steering wheel or clench his teeth every time he drove past a Pro Golf Discount. In extreme cases, he might be plotting some sort of elaborate revenge involving the destruction of property.

That our golfing friend is able to see the humor in the fact that he wound up continuing to use the glove is a sign that he’s fairly well squared away about the whole thing.

In conclusion: This appears to be an utterly healthy example of emotional processing:

• An individual was disappointed with a product that was purchased;

• He requested an accommodation;

• He was disappointed when denied this accommodation;

• He reacted by withdrawing his patronage;

• H lived happily ever after (I hope).

Now before we wade back into some more serious stuff, I’d like to reiterate that you’re welcome to share any and all grudges by emailing me at [email protected] or posting it in the comments! I reserve the right to omit or change details that could identify the parties involved unless you’re a chain store selling golf equipment in which case you’re on blast. 

If only it were always that easy …

Before my mom died in March 2019, it’s possible I would have characterized my feelings toward my stepfather as a boundary as opposed to a grudge.

He was no longer part of my life and hadn’t been for quite some time.

I had certainly tried very hard to be a grown up about things. Initially I did this with direct communication.

In 2002 — the year after he and my mom separated — my stepfather wrote me a letter inviting me to visit him for Christmas. I responded, saying there would need to be an honest conversation about what had happened if we were going to continue having a relationship.

He never replied.

The only time I saw or spoke to him after that was at my younger brother’s college graduation, which was back in May 2005.

He walked up to me, arms extended in anticipation of an embrace. I hugged him at least in part to avoid the chance things would become uncomfortable or awkward for others.

Now, I wound up regretting the fact that I hugged him, seeing it as a sign of weakness on my part. Why did I feel compelled to conform to his expectations after everything that happened.

However, nothing bad had come of me returning his embrace, and it’s not like he remained part of my life.

He had emailed me twice since in the years, using the address from the newspapers I worked at, first the Seattle Post-Intelligencer and later The Seattle Times. I did not respond either time.

I tried very hard to become that straight-faced person who set a boundary without having any of the negative emotions and energy attached to it.

I was still the angry emoji face, however, despite active attempts to address the resentment I felt.

I began seeing a therapist in the summer of 2004 and continued that for the next five years. My anger toward my stepfather was something that we discussed. I wrote a letter to my stepfather as part of my treatment, and instead of mailing it, I read it aloud and burned it as my therapist had suggested. There was role-playing, too, as I spoke about my anger to my therapist as if he were my stepfather.

Yet I still periodically checked his LinkedIn profile, and a couple of times a year I would search his name online to see where he was living.

I always wondered if confronting him would have made me feel better, but I’d tried to do that in the most mature way I knew how, and he’d opted not to respond.

I didn’t stop thinking about him, though. I’d let my mind time travel back to a previous encounter we’d had — such as the hug at my brother’s college graduation — and imagine a different outcome. Maybe I’d stand there statue still, refusing to embrace him. Other times it was more assertive: I’d shove him with two hands, say, “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Other times, I imagined writing a story about everything he’d done, having it published in a newspaper or magazine. Later, when I began working as a radio host, I’d picture myself interviewing him.

I had stopped talking to him, but I hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Remember what Dr. Mezulis said about grudges?

Dr. Mezulis: “Cognitively, grudges keep our attention on the past rather than the present.”

Now, I never took any tangible step toward acting on my anger, however. I didn’t crank call him or send anonymous notes, let alone make any public declarations about him.

There were several reasons for this, a primary one being my fears about how this would affect my mom. At best, it would be uncomfortable for her to hear how far back my hostility toward him went. I was fairly certain it would make her feel even worse about what was an incredibly painful chapter in her life.

That bit of calculus changed when my mom died in March 2019, though. I felt this when I started imagining what I would do if my stepfather showed up to her memorial.

My anger toward him had not cooled in the 15 years since I’d last seen him. It remained molten, and now, I could think about what I might do with that anger without worrying so much how it would affect her feelings.

1  Except for the one time he (quite understandably) needed a piece of equipment that demonstrated allegiance to the honorable temple of higher learning and academic excellence that is the University of Washington.