It took me a long time to understand what it really means to forgive someone.
I used to think it meant making peace with what happened—like putting a bow on a mess someone else made. Or worse, like I was supposed to let them back in, smiling, as if they hadn’t just carved me open.
And truth be told, I’ve wrestled with this one longer than I care to admit. I’ve chewed on it, spit it out, picked it back up again. There were days I wore my pain like armor, thinking that holding on made me strong. Days I refused to let go, because I thought forgiveness was the same thing as saying what they did was okay.
It’s not.
Forgiveness is not about excusing harm. It’s not about forgetting. And it damn sure isn’t about denying the wound.
What I’ve come to understand is this:
Forgiveness is not for them. It’s for the part of you that still bleeds every time their name is spoken.
It’s about refusing to let their choices continue to rot inside your chest.
It’s about making space in your heart for you to breathe again—not for them to waltz back in.
Forgiveness Isn’t Soft—It’s Sovereign
People think forgiveness is soft. But I’ve found it’s the opposite.
Forgiveness is fierce. It takes guts. It takes grit.
It’s a choice you make when you finally realize that holding on to the wound doesn’t keep you safe—it just keeps you stuck.
And let me be clear: forgiveness doesn’t mean reunion. It doesn’t mean you’re obligated to send a birthday card or answer the phone or pretend it never happened. You can forgive someone and still never let them cross your threshold again.
In fact, sometimes that’s the most loving thing you can do—for them and for yourself.
The Turning Point
Forgiveness is the moment you stop handing your soul over to the one who hurt you.
It’s the moment you say:
“What you did shaped me, but it will not define me. I’m writing the rest of this story without your shadow on every page.”
It’s not easy.
Some days it feels like a little death.
But if you’ve ever walked that path, you know—it’s also a kind of birth.
Waystones on the Path
There’s no single map, but here are a few markers I’ve found along the way:
- Write it down. Not for them—for you. Let the wound have a voice, then let it rest.
- Breathe into the places that still flinch. You don’t need to tear the scar open again, just stop pretending it never happened.
- Speak this aloud:
“I forgive you, not because it was okay… but because I refuse to let it keep bleeding in me.”
Or maybe simpler still:
“I forgive you. Not for you—but for the me that I’m still becoming.”
A Simple Ritual
If your heart needs a gesture, try this:
- Take a slip of paper.
- Write the name of the hurt—not the person, the hurt.
- Burn it. Or bury it. Or let the wind carry it.
- As you release it, speak:
“I release this weight. I carry the lesson, not the wound.”
Forgiveness Is a Spiral
It isn’t clean or final.
Sometimes it’s a practice.
Sometimes it’s a spiral.
Sometimes you’ll find yourself back at the same door, needing to let it go again.
That’s okay.
You’re not failing.
You’re healing.
🪶 Thoughtseed to Carry
What have I been carrying that no longer serves me?
What story have I let define me that might now be rewritten?
And if forgiveness is not about freeing them… what might it look like to finally free myself?
Let the question simmer. Let it whisper. Let it move in its own time.
And when you’re ready—light the fire, and let the weight go.
