The Revenge Trap: Why Getting Even Hurts You More

BY SOFO ARCHON

In life’s journey, we are bound to be hurt by others. Sometimes, we recover quickly from heartache and move on. At other times, we linger in the past, convinced that the only way to ease our pain is to hurt those who hurt us.

But does revenge ever work? The short answer is no. The longer answer? Keep reading…

Why Revenge Isn’t Sweet

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” ~Confucius

The belief that revenge is sweet is constantly reinforced by our culture. Consider, for example, most popular films and novels—which reflect society’s collective mindset—and you’ll notice how often they portray revenge as something desirable.

A common story theme they share is the battle between two characters: one “good” and one “evil.” The “evil” character wrongs the “good” one, and the latter’s mission becomes exacting revenge. Once the revenge is achieved, the “good” character is celebrated as a brave hero, deriving immense satisfaction from the act.

Contrary to what these fictional scenarios suggest, revenge is not only futile but counterproductive; rather than making us feel better, it only deepens our pain. Here’s why:

• Firstly, seeking revenge harms our well-being. It raises stress levels and undermines both our physical and emotional health.
• Secondly, when we believe revenge is essential to our happiness, we may obsess over making everyone who hurts us “pay the price.” The result? We waste precious time and energy trying to ruin others’ lives instead of improving our own.
• Thirdly, by taking revenge, we behave just like those we claim to despise, diminishing ourselves in the process. The outcome is often regret, remorse, and guilt.
• Lastly, those we take revenge on may retaliate, creating a vicious cycle of conflict that leads to even greater suffering.

When you hurt others, you also hurt yourself.

Revenge as a Failed Attempt to Restore Peace & Justice

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

As we have seen, revenge is nothing more than a quick fix. It may feel sweet for a moment, but it soon leaves a bitter aftertaste. So what’s the point of seeking it?

Many people argue that they don’t seek revenge to feel happier, but to restore peace and justice—believing that punishing others for their misdeeds will teach them a valuable lesson: never to repeat their actions. Yet revenge never achieves this, for punishment does not address the deeper reasons someone chose to cause harm.

So why do some people intentionally hurt others?

In most cases, it is because they themselves have been deeply wounded in the past, and violence has become their way of coping with the harsh world in which they were raised. Their behavior is often a misguided attempt to protect themselves or assert control in a world where they once felt powerless. They are not inherently “bad” or “evil”; rather, they have been deprived of the love and care they needed, and as a result, never learned how to show love to others.

Looked at this way, revenge is an attempt to assign responsibility to those who are themselves vulnerable. It is common to despise—or even hate—those who mistreat us, placing all the blame on them while failing to recognize that they are victims of tremendous hardship, struggling to heal from their emotional wounds. Instead of showing compassion, we punish them for their misconduct.

In doing so, we not only inflict further suffering on them, but also reinforce their belief that the world is cruel and that violence is the only way to cope with conflict. In other words, we encourage them to become more hostile and abusive—precisely the opposite of what we intended to achieve: peace and justice.

From Seeking Revenge to Offering Forgiveness

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” ~Mahatma Gandhi 

If revenge doesn’t work, then what does?

Forgiveness.

To truly recover from emotional hurt, we need to forgive. Forgiveness means letting go of grudges toward those who caused us pain and compassionately releasing the desire to punish them. When we do this, we are freed from resentment and experience a state of inner peace. Moreover, we stop wasting time and energy trying to change the past and can move forward by focusing on what truly matters for our well-being.

Now, I can almost hear you asking:

“How can I possibly forgive someone who has hurt me?”

For forgiveness to take place, you first need to realize that all people—including yourself—are imperfect and bound to err, sometimes causing harm to others. When you seek revenge, you aim to punish someone for their wrongdoing and make them feel the same painful emotions you are experiencing. In such a psychological state, your thoughts become unkind and destructive, leaving little room in your heart for forgiveness.

But when you understand that no one is perfect, you begin to see their actions from an entirely different perspective. You recognize the unconscious suffering that motivates them, as well as the ways in which they are victims of their own traumatic past. Gradually, a natural desire arises within you to forgive them, even if they have broken your heart.

That said, it’s important to note that forgiveness refers to the person, not the act. In other words, to forgive does not mean condoning someone’s misdeeds. When I speak of forgiveness, I am not suggesting that, out of compassion, you should return to those who have hurt you. Not at all. Protect yourself, maintain distance if necessary, and ensure they do not mistreat you again.

I would like to close this article with one of my favorite short stories from the East, which carries a profoundly beautiful lesson on compassion and forgiveness. Whether the story is historically accurate is debatable, but its message remains deeply meaningful. So, here it is:

The Buddha was sitting under a tree talking to his disciples when a man came and spat in his face. He wiped it off, and he asked the man, “What next? What do you want to say next?” The man was a little puzzled because he himself never expected that when you spit in someone’s face he should ask “What next?” He had no such experience in his past. He had insulted people and they had become angry and they had reacted. Or if they were cowards and weaklings, they had smiled, trying to bribe him. But the Buddha was like neither, he was not angry, nor in any way offended, nor in any way cowardly. But just matter-of-factly he said, “What next?” There was no reaction on his part.

But Buddha’s disciples became angry, and they reacted. His closest disciple, Ananda, said, “This is too much. We cannot tolerate it. He has to be punished for it, otherwise everybody will start doing things like this!”

Buddha said, “You keep silent. He has not offended me, but you are offending me. He is new, a stranger. He must have heard from people something about me, that this man is an atheist, a dangerous man who is throwing people off their track, a revolutionary, a corrupter. And he may have formed some idea, a notion of me. He has not spit on me, he has spit on his notion. He has spit on his idea of me because he does not know me at all, so how can he spit on me?

“If you think on it deeply,” Buddha said, “he has spit on his own mind. I am not part of it, and I can see that this poor man must have something else to say because this is a way of saying something. Spitting is a way of saying something. There are moments when you feel that language is impotent: in deep love, in intense anger, in hate, in prayer. There are intense moments when language is impotent. Then you have to do something. When you are angry, intensely angry, you hit the person, you spit on him, you are saying something. I can understand him. He must have something more to say, that’s why I’m asking, “What next?”

The man was even more puzzled! And Buddha said to his disciples, “I am more offended by you because you know me, and you have lived for years with me, and still you react.”

Puzzled, confused, the man returned home. He could not sleep the whole night. When you see a Buddha, it is difficult, impossible to sleep anymore the way you used to sleep before. Again and again he was haunted by the experience. He could not explain it to himself, what had happened. He was trembling all over, sweating and soaking the sheets. He had never come across such a man; the Buddha had shattered his whole mind and his whole pattern, his whole past.

The next morning he went back. He threw himself at Buddha’s feet. Buddha asked him again, “What next? This, too, is a way of saying something that cannot be said in language. When you come and touch my feet, you are saying something that cannot be said ordinarily, for which all words are too narrow; it cannot be contained in them.” Buddha said, “Look, Ananda, this man is again here, he is saying something. This man is a man of deep emotions.”

The man looked at Buddha and said, “Forgive me for what I did yesterday.”

Buddha said, “Forgive? But I am not the same man to whom you did it. The Ganges goes on flowing, it is never the same Ganges again. Every man is a river. The man you spit upon is no longer here. I look just like him, but I am not the same, much has happened in these twenty-four hours! The river has flowed so much. So I cannot forgive you because I have no grudge against you.

“And you also are new. I can see you are not the same man who came yesterday because that man was angry and he spit, whereas you are bowing at my feet, touching my feet. How can you be the same man? You are not the same man, so let us forget about it. Those two people, the man who spit and the man on whom he spit, both are no more. Come closer. Let us talk of something else.”

Source: Intimacy: Trusting Oneself and the Other, by Osho