Forgiveness: Naming What Actually Hurts

If you’ve been wrestling with forgiveness work, that strange space between wanting calm and naming what actually hurts, come in and sit with me.

Photo by Declan Sun

Let’s talk peace.

And forgiveness.

And maybe some resentment.

Forgiveness is this…

really magical,

incredible,

beautiful thing.

It’s almost a sanctification.

A standard of a “good person.”

How good you are for being able to forgive.

Yet…

I don’t think we’re that good at it.

At least not fully.

At least not openly.

We like to say things like:

“Forgive, don’t harbor that,” or

“Forgiving is for YOU, not even for them.”

And I agree with that,

100%.

Forgiving is great.

It’s a way to make peace,

and most importantly,

to give peace to yourself.

Yet… again,

we fail to admit we hold grudges.

Sometimes,

we don’t even know

we hold them —

toward something,

or someone.

And they keep it mulling over,

rent‑free,

often disguised as surface‑level emotions like

annoyance or frustration,

building up quietly,

even for years.

Resentment,

opposed to forgiveness,

is considered pretty shameful.

Not only because you gain the free label of bitter or harsh,

but because it’s seen as a kind of

“lack of goodness” (????)

as you could not extend in the way

the "good person" is expected to.

And to that…

to that…

the only thing I have to say is:

our moral criteria

might be holding us back

from naming important emotions and struggles.

Simply because they’re ugly,

or not graceful,

or make us “look bad”, whatever that might be or to whoever feels strongly here.

The point being,

it halts the work on what actually bothers us.

We feel so ashamed of certain emotions

that we, round pegs fitting in the square holes of expectations,

could not possibly feel something like that.

Therefore,

those unnamed emotions could never be here.

Right?

Right…?

Wrong.

Or at least in my experience, wrong.

Really wrong.

Dead wrong.

And you’re hearing (reading) that from someone who is pretty chill.

I can say that straight‑faced, ok?

Not only do I have a bad memory,

I’m generally understanding.

I’ve even been too understanding...

to the point of being lenient

and lacking boundaries that protect my well‑being.

But even the supposedly “good girl,”

the patient one,

the one always at people’s service,

held resentment toward someone in the family.

(tan‑tan‑taaaaan)

And not only that!

it took me years

to realize it,

to identify it,

and then more time

to be able to write it in my own journal.

To write it in full letters:

“I resent (…)”

“I don’t like it when (…)”

No one reads it.

I’m the only one who writes in it.

But it took me SO long

to admit, even to myself,

that the good girl wasn’t good‑girling,

that I felt something

that wasn’t in the script

of the person I thought I should be.

You know that thing you hesitate to tell

even to your therapist?

Yeah.

That thing.

To the professional you pay to hear you out,

who, for obvious ethical reasons,

has no personal connection to you?

On that level,

but maybe worse,

because there wasn’t even someone on the other side to "judge" me.

Well…

there was my ego.

There was a socially acceptable (or expected) construct I had of myself,

and of the person,

and of the situation.

Nonetheless,

just like a simmering pot on the back burner,

those feelings will bubble up,

or burn the pan down,

if you don’t keep an eye on that.

To the nervous system,

these situations become a threat.

You start constantly managing triggers

you have no idea where they come from.

And hey — I’m not here pointing fingers.

If we’re talking people,

we’re probably talking about

two unhealed parties in their own ways.

If we’re talking situations,

some things are simply unavoidable.

And I’m quite the advocate of creating our own paths.

It’s okay when it’s a bump in the road —

when you hurt or are hurt unintentionally.

We’re all doing our best.

But it gets serious

when the bump becomes a roadblock.

And mind you,

roads can be blocked by big rocks

just as much as small rocks

being placed there every day.

Meaning:

it doesn’t have to be a full‑blown situation.

It can be everyday put‑downs.

And you know what’s funny?

It hurts.

It f‑ing hurts

to admit it.

BUT

it is also… liberating.

For some reason,

even if it’s not spot‑on at first,

it is delightful

to name a crusty feeling.

And then…

there’s this process,

where you start excavating things like a to‑do list:

What ✓

Why them

Why me

How

When

Where

…

And that will probably put you in a whirlwind.

It will clash with others’ roles.

Your role.

Your expectations.

How you see them.

How you see yourself.

Because by then,

you’ve probably had to work through the issue at hand but also the expectations

and the stories you tell yourself...

about yourself.

And you realize:

“Oh… I’m just me.

The world didn’t implode.

I’m still a ‘good’ person,

I just feel hurt when (…).”

And that is quite the update

to your internal model of who you are.

You might even go into “fixing mode,”

but hopefully acceptance settles faster.

Because…

if it was only up to you,

you would have dealt with that already.

Remember?

You either change yourself,

change the environment,

or remove yourself.

Change yourself: mindset, expectations, habits.

Change the environment: boundaries, routines, the structure of the situation.

Remove yourself: when neither internal nor external change is possible or healthy,

you exit the situation entirely.

Even so,

there is only so much we can do,

and there are plenty of things out of our control.

Mostly situational,

or people‑related matters,

but not our responses.

When you allow yourself to honestly name the issue,

you can work on it.

Break it down.

And eventually,

change your reflexes —

hence, how you feel about it.

With time, reactions shorten.

You need less energy.

You don’t have to be so active in adjusting yourself,

because it’s no longer a threat.

And if you’d like to know,

I haven’t forgiven this family member yet.

Given the circumstances,

I’m not able to.

But I’ve made huuuuge progress.

Progress I can actually feel!

in how it's triggered,

how my internal emotional-chatterbox behaves,

and what reactions come out of it.

It’s almost a quality‑of‑life upgrade.

It's not perfect, BUT

It passes, I acknowledge it,

then it goes away.

I definitely see forgiveness happening, though.

Not because of magic,

but because of emotional maturity,

where my well‑being goes beyond my ego.

It might sound entitled,

but I feel I owe myself the peace.

Why should someone else have control over my peace?

We think peace

is reserved for the enlightened monk in a mountain cave.

Well… I’m no monk.

So I have yet to figure this out,

hopefully in this lifetime, please.

But I guess there’s something there

for us mere mortals as well.

There’s more in our hands

than we allow ourselves to believe.

Cheers.