Tag: wisdom
-
8 Ways Life Improves When You Value and Prioritize Yourself
“Every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling, ‘This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!’ And each day, it’s up to you to yank your hand back, put it on your heart, and say, ‘No. This is what’s important.’” ~Iain Thomas
As someone who believes in the healing power of self-care, I absolutely love this quote. But I didn’t always believe it was true. And it didn’t feel good to do it.
My heart was too tender to be touched for long. And for years, it seemed to be empty. I didn’t feel pleasure. I didn’t feel passion. I didn’t feel love or hope or joy. I just felt numb from years of pain followed by years of suppressing my emotions with alcohol, food, and other anesthetics. And my feelings and needs didn’t feel important to me because I didn’t believe I was important.
I suspect a lot of people are living some variation of this story, even if they’re not consciously aware of it. Because none of us get through our childhoods unscathed. And many of us go into adulthood with mounds of unresolved trauma, resultant low self-worth, and an arsenal of unhealthy coping mechanisms to keep the pain at bay.
We don’t prioritize the things that we need to thrive because we’re too busy surviving.
It would be easy to blame the world for dragging us by the hand, because it does—oh, how it does. There are bills to be paid, and requests to be honored, and all the million little things we feel we need to do and figure out before we can finally take a break and breathe.
But we also drag ourselves all around, trying to do it all and be everything to everyone, because it’s easier than facing ourselves. It’s easier than facing our deepest pains.
And it’s easier than acknowledging the truth—which would set us free if we could only admit and address it: We simply don’t value ourselves enough to prioritize ourselves.
Maybe because we blame ourselves for pain from the past. Or because we don’t think we’ve accomplished enough to earn kindness and care. Or maybe because we’ve learned that good people put everyone else first, and we desperately want to be good people—loveable people. All were true for me.
But I think that’s the point of the quote. That our most important work is to heal the wounds that cause us to devalue ourselves so we can then prioritize ourselves enough to figure out what we need to do to feel and be our best.
For years I tried to make my life better, starting by making myself better, but nothing changed until I believed I deserved better.
When you believe you deserve better, you commit to creating it, and you keep going when it’s hard because you know you’re worth it. And oh, how life expands when you do.
When you start valuing and prioritizing yourself…
1. You’ll start feeling calmer, more energized, and more fulfilled because you’ll be meeting more of your needs.
The hardest thing about being the kind of person who puts everyone else first is that you never feel like you’re doing enough, even when you’re giving all you have. So you not only try to do everything you can for everyone else, but you also try to make them all comfortable and happy—which is impossible, so you generally feel neither.
When you make yourself a top priority, you’ll figure out what you need to feel comfortable and happy first. And you’ll give yourself permission to do those things without carrying the weight of everyone else’s feelings and problems, as if it’s your responsibility to fix them.
Then, instead of trying to fill your tank with quick-burning fuel of approval, you’ll fill it with the kind of things that truly nourish you, which, for me, includes movement, creativity, and time in nature.
2. You’ll experience the joy of growing and exploring new possibilities as you invest in yourself and your potential instead of spending money on distractions that leave you feeling empty.
When you decide that your top priority is to take care of yourself and your needs, you’ll feel more confident about investing in yourself—whether that means undergoing training for a more rewarding career or going to therapy to start healing from your trauma.
Instead of spending your money on Band-Aids that barely cover your pain and overall life dissatisfaction, you’ll devote your time, energy, and resources to addressing those things so that you no longer feel the need to numb yourself.
3. You’ll prioritize healing and feel more at peace with yourself, your past, and others as a result.
As you work on healing from pains from the past, you’ll find it easier to forgive the people who hurt you. And because you value and want to honor yourself, you’ll recognize this doesn’t have to mean allowing them back into your life. It can simply mean releasing your anger and resentment toward them—which is a lot easier to do when they no longer have access to continually hurt you.
Healing will also allow you to see your past through an entirely different lens, with a deeper understanding of who and what shaped you and more empathy toward the little version of you who always did their best and has always been deserving of love and respect.
4. You’ll feel proud of yourself instead of ashamed because, through healing, you’ll be able to forgive yourself for things you could have done better and focus on doing better now.
As you build that empathy for your younger self, you’ll also grow your empathy for your present self, and your relationship with yourself will transform. You’ll start to focus more on what you’re doing right than what you think you’re doing wrong, giving you more and more reasons to feel good about yourself.
You’ll simultaneously find it easier to forgive yourself when you struggle, and you’ll start seeing your missteps as opportunities to learn instead of beating yourself up and stewing in regret. This means you’ll bounce back more quickly, with confidence in what you can do differently going forward, which will make it a lot easier to actually make those changes.
5. You’ll feel more connected to yourself and start to trust yourself more as you make time and space to hear your intuition.
When you start allowing yourself time to just be—releasing the pressure to constantly do and achieve—you’ll find it easier to hear the voice of your intuition. Which means you’ll get clearer insight into what might be good for you, in all areas of your life.
As you act on this insight and see (at least some) positive results, you’ll develop a deeper sense of trust in yourself. Trust that enables you to make big decisions you might otherwise avoid in fear of making the “wrong” choice.
You’ll also spend less time worrying about what other people think because it will feel far less relevant when you’re guided by what you know.
6. Your relationships will become more of a source of pleasure than pain because you’ll set boundaries with people who hurt you and let them go if they refuse to stop.
When you put your own peace, happiness, and well-being at the top of your priority list, you’ll start setting clearer boundaries about what’s acceptable in your relationships.
You’ll also find the courage to speak up when someone crosses your boundaries because you’ll know that protecting your heart and your energy is worth the discomfort of confrontation.
That’s not to say your relationships will always be effortless and fun. People will still stress and disappoint you, just as you’ll sometimes stress and disappoint them, because we’re all only human.
But you won’t say, “No worries” when someone’s behavior fills you with fear or “It’s okay” when you know in your gut it’s not. And when someone disrespects or mistreats you for the umpteenth time, you’ll find the strength to say, “No more”—which means you’ll spend a lot less time justifying and recovering from their behavior and more time enjoying people who treat you well.
7. Your days will feel more enjoyable and exciting because you’ll be using more of your time on things that matter to you.
The more time and space you allot for yourself, the more energy you’ll be able to devote to the things that matter to you. The things that make you feel excited to be alive. Your passions and interests and new possibilities—or the pursuit of discovering what brings you joy if you have no idea what that might be.
Because other people also matter to you, you’ll still devote time and energy to them, but you’ll know it’s okay if it’s notjust about them. That you can suggest things to do or places to go or ask for their support at times.
This isn’t just about filling time you previously didn’t have available to you. It’s also about enjoying more of your time because you’ll no longer feel guilty about doing less for everyone else, or at least you’ll feel less anxious about it because you’ll know you’re honoring one of your top priorities—yourself.
8. You’ll feel physically stronger, mentally clearer, and more emotionally balanced.
When you address your needs, invest in your happiness and healing, and make choices to honor and support yourself, you’ll notice improvements in every aspect of your health—physical, mental, and emotional.
Because instead of merely surviving as you deal with the varied consequences of neglecting and devaluing yourself, you’ll be thriving through the process of taking care good care of yourself.
And it will become a self-perpetuating cycle—because you feel better, you’ll continually do better, and then feel even better as a result. Unlike the opposite cycle that might be more familiar—when you feel bad, continually do things you feel bad about, and then feel worse as a result.
This doesn’t mean you’ll always feel great and will never struggle again. You’ll still be human, after all. But you’ll feel a lot more confident in your capacity to get through your difficult times and make the best of every hardship you face because you’ll be acting from a stable foundation of inner strength forged through self-support and care.
—
Maybe you’ve already experienced some of these things. And maybe, like me, you feel like the path to valuing and prioritizing yourself has often been a journey of two steps forward and one step back—or one step forward and two steps back.
Maybe some days you set boundaries and other days you suppress your needs in fear. Maybe some days you make time for exercise and meditation, and other times have one too many glasses of wine because it’s easier than feeling your feelings, or acknowledging what you really need to do or change to feel better.
Healing isn’t a linear process. We grow, we stumble, we disappoint ourselves, then hopefully forgive ourselves so we can get back up and try again, one small step at a time.
The important thing is that we keep taking those steps, even if we get knocked down for a while.
That we try to face our pains instead of numbing them. Honor our needs instead of ignoring them. Acknowledge the things that aren’t working instead of settling on them. And most importantly, continually challenge the voice within that tells us we need to do or be more to be worthy of love and care.
Once upon a time I thought my heart was numb because of everything that had happened to me. Then I realized that was the past, and I was the one numbing it in the present by treating myself worse than anyone else ever had.
I only came alive when I stopped telling myself I didn’t matter and started working on believing I did—which started with treating myself like I did. One loving act of self-care at a time.
-
Guidance for Growth: How to Forgive and Live Without Regrets
“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” ~Lao Tzu
Once believed to be conflict-free, our relationship disintegrated on a fateful evening in May 2007, revealing the facade of our supposed happiness. We always said, “We’ll be all right because we never fight.” Well, that belief shattered on my dad’s fifty-fourth birthday. What was supposed to be a dinner with my parents turned into a nightmare and marked the beginning of a harrowing ordeal.
My then-husband, bleeding from a head wound after a visit with a friend, turned our evening into chaos. As I attempted to bandage him, unease set in, quickly escalating after we returned home. A heated argument led me to leave defiantly, only for him to react violently, breaking a chair in his rush to stop me.
Our confrontation spilled onto the porch, where I suffered a head injury requiring sixteen staples after a fall caused by him. Despite my attempts to escape, he overpowered me, taking my keys and phone. The ensuing drive was a frenzied blur of speed and violence, ending with me jumping from the moving car for my safety after being punched in the face three times.
The night culminated at my father-in-law’s house, who, while dismayed, reluctantly intervened. I eventually found myself in the emergency room, a grim closure to a day marked by undiagnosed sociopathy and substance abuse.
The agonizing events of that evening marked a shocking departure from what I had known of our relationship, standing as the sole instance of violence in what otherwise appeared to be a peaceful union. His sudden outburst of aggression revealed the hidden depths of troubling behavior, a reality rooted in psychological complexities I was painfully unaware of until later on.
Ironically, my role as a wedding coordinator for an upscale hotel chain made the situation even more surreal. Less than a year after exchanging vows of love and commitment, I found myself concealing bruises—stark, physical reminders of betrayal—while facilitating celebrations of love for others.
This contrast between my work life and personal experience not only deepened my resolve to seek healing but also highlighted my resilience in facing life’s unpredictable challenges, further motivating my journey toward healing and empowerment.
The Awakening: Realizing the Need for Change
That evening blindsided me. Until that day, violence had been absent from our life together, making the ordeal not only a physical but a psychological shock as well. It was this abrupt confrontation with violence that compelled me to reassess everything I believed about our relationship.
In the immediate aftermath, the pressing need for safety and healing took precedence over everything except understanding why. Reflecting on that night, I realized it wasn’t about recognizing a pattern of escalation but understanding how profoundly this single event altered my life and perception.
A Year of Transformation…and Loss
In the months following that dreadful night, I began a journey toward healing and self-discovery, and just as I started to find my footing, another wave of grief hit with the passing of my mom less than a year later. This “double whammy” of loss and trauma tested my resilience to its limits!
My mom’s passing not only compounded the emotional turmoil but also served as a poignant yet factual reminder of life’s fragility and the importance of healing and growth. It forced me to confront my grief head-on, integrating this pain into my journey of recovery.
In contemplating the night of domestic violence and then the passing of my mom, I realized that the path to healing is not linear but a mosaic of our experiences—each piece, no matter how painful, contributes to the whole of who we are.
The lessons learned in the shadow of loss and violence illuminated the strength within me, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of forgiveness and living without regret.
The Path to Healing: Embracing A New Beginning
My healing journey began with the unwavering support of family and friends, whose presence became my sanctuary. Recognizing the depth of my trauma, I sought professional help, engaging in therapy sessions that offered a safe space to unravel and confront my experiences. That led me to the doors of Domestic Violence Intervention Services (DVIS), where counseling sessions became a cornerstone of my recovery, providing me with the tools and understanding needed to rebuild my sense of self.
To navigate the mental distress and anxiety that clouded my days, I began taking (albeit for a short time) an antidepressant to stabilize my emotions. My quest for understanding led me to the pages of The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, which shed light on the perplexing behaviors of my then-husband. Her book offered clarity on the nature of sociopathy and its impact on our lives.
Seeking answers to deeper, existential questions, particularly the “death” of my mom at the young age of fifty-four, I dove deep into Everything Happens for a Reason by Mira Kirshenbaum. Her book offered much-needed perspectives on why things happen in my search for meaning in the face of inexplicable loss.
Journaling became a tool for reflection, a way to pour out my thoughts and start seeing my experiences as the seeds of a spiritual awakening. This introspection led me to explore self-discovery systems, such as numerology, which opened new avenues of understanding and self-awareness.
A pivotal moment in my healing was attending a spirit fair, where a medium conveyed a message from my mom just two months after she passed! This emotional yet enlightening encounter provided immense comfort and an intense motivation to keep moving forward, a powerful reminder of her enduring presence and guidance in my journey toward a new beginning.
The Power of Forgiveness
Forgiving my then-husband, and perhaps more challengingly, myself, was not an act of forgetting but a conscious decision to release the hold the anger and resentment had on my heart. After discovering, through James Van Praagh, that forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves, forgiving us both became crucial to my healing journey because it allowed me to reclaim my peace and move forward without the heavy chains of past grievances.
The Strength in No Regrets
Embracing a life without regret has always been my philosophy, but this ordeal deepened its meaning. It taught me to actively seek lessons in every challenge, make peace with the past, and approach the future optimistically. This mindset has empowered me to live more purposefully, reminding me of the strength of facing life with an open heart and a fearless spirit.
Guidance for Growth: Steps to Heal and Thrive
Learning to forgive and live without regret are transformative practices that can change your life. Here are some ways that I found useful that may help you in your journey:
Cultivating Forgiveness:
Take time to reflect on your situation so you can confront your feelings directly.
Just as I had to face the reality of my then-husband’s undiagnosed mental health issues and the violence it led to, taking time to reflect on how deeply this affected me was my first step toward healing. Similarly, acknowledging the hurt it caused you and allowing yourself to feel it fully is crucial in your journey toward forgiveness.
Try to see your situation from the other person’s perspective.
Understanding the role of sociopathy in my then-husband’s actions didn’t excuse them but helped me to see the situation from a broader perspective. While it’s challenging, especially in cases of abuse or betrayal, attempting to understand the ‘why’ behind someone’s actions can be a step toward releasing anger.
Write a letter to the person you’re forgiving (you don’t have to send it) expressing how their actions affected you and consciously decide to let go of the burdens that hold you back.
After I wrote mine and wished him well, I burned it during a full moon ceremony.
Choose yourself and recognize that holding onto anger and resentment only binds you to the past and the person who hurt you.
By choosing to forgive, you’re choosing your own peace, freedom, and well-being over remaining tethered to painful emotions and those who’ve harmed you. Forgiveness is an act of self-love and self-preservation that allows you to reclaim your power and move forward with grace and strength.
Living Without Regret:
Recognize what’s within your control and let go of what isn’t.
While I miss my mom more than I can say, I’ve come to see her passing as a pivotal influence that has molded me into the person I am today. This kind of acceptance is key to living without regret and moving forward in peace.
Take responsibility for your choices and learn from your mistakes without letting them define you.
I reminded myself that while I experienced violence, I was not a victim of it. Choosing to seek help after leaving the relationship was a crucial and empowering decision that led me to where I am now. Acknowledging that each decision, including reaching out to DVIS, played a role in my journey reinforces the importance of owning our choices for a regret-free life.
View every experience as a learning opportunity.
The day I found myself concealing bruises at work taught me about the stark realities of appearances versus truth. Every challenge offers a lesson, so ask yourself, “What can I learn from this?” to transform regrets into lessons for growth.
Practice mindfulness.
Both journaling and receiving an angel message from my mom taught me the importance of being present and finding peace in the NOW. Being mindful can help reduce dwelling on past mistakes or worrying about the future.
Keep a gratitude journal and regularly write down things you’re thankful for to shift your focus from what’s missing or what could have been to an appreciation for what is.
I know how grateful I was for the support of family and friends, professional guidance, and moments of peace that helped shift my perspective from loss to appreciation, a practice I recommend to anyone navigating their healing journey.
Engage in activities that bring you joy and fulfillment, leaving little room for regret.
Closing Thoughts…
As you turn the pages of your own life, remember that every challenge is an opportunity for growth, every setback a chance to rise stronger. Let my experiences shared here remind you that you are not alone in your struggles and that within you lies an unbreakable spirit capable of overcoming any obstacle.
Embrace each day with hope and courage, knowing that in the heart of adversity lies the seed of your greatest strength. Let it grow, let it shine, and let it guide you to your most empowered self.
-
How to Comfort the Grieving Without Saying “Sorry for Your Loss”
“Words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.” ~Buddha
“I’m sorry for your loss” is a perfectly acceptable response…if I’ve told you I’ve lost my phone. In that instance, I can appreciate the sentiment, empathy, and authenticity of the phrase. It’s my loss and my loss alone. I know you can put yourself in my shoes and internalize what it would feel like to be without this critical device and, as such, the words carry weight.
When I tell you my parents are dead, though? Maybe not so much. That’s because they’re monumental deaths that are not easily relatable for most. See, my dad passed away from ALS when I was fourteen. My mom then accelerated her unhealthy relationship with food and passed away due to complications from morbid obesity when I was twenty-seven. I’m an only child.
Approach me with this filler phrase when this has been revealed, and my knee-jerk reaction will be a rushed “uh huh, thanks. Anyway…” I don’t mean to be brusque (well, I guess I do). I know you’re doing your best. You know you have to say something in response to this info. and, chances are, everything you think of in those few milliseconds after this revelation seems to fall short.
So the autopilot, reflexive, out-of-office reply surfaces to the top.
Here’s why it’s problematic.
Only ‘My Loss,’ Really?
Not to play a game of semantics, but the first issue I take with this filler phrase is that it conveys these deaths are only my loss. Yes, I know you’re speaking directly to me and not my parents’ siblings, friends, co-workers, or grandchildren. But these—either individually or collectively—are not singular losses.
My grandmother lost the ability to outlive her children.
My dad’s friends lost their weekly poker buddy.
My mom’s co-workers lost the office’s “voice of reason.”
My daughter lost the privilege to ever know her grandparents.
The world lost whatever future contributions these two would have made to it.
My point is, there are many people who lost something on those two separate days—and those losses have continued along with their absence.
Alienation, Party of One
Placing this loss directly on me—or on anyone, for that matter—also creates a separation between us. Yes, it might have been a loss in my life, not in yours, but you’ve now squarely bifurcated us.
I am the bereaved; you are the condoler.
The last thing someone mentioning a death needs (IMO) is to be constantly reminded that we’re different from the rest of you. That the black cloud is over our heads, not yours.
Grief and loss and death, not to mention the sadness and depression that can go along with them, is isolating enough. Please don’t magnify that even more by placing us on opposite sides of the fence.
Comfort, Camaraderie
The biggest problem I have with the loss apology is that it really doesn’t offer anything. No source of comfort. No relatability. No words of advice that you can turn to when you’re struggling.
It’s a “break glass in case of emergency” phrase for those who don’t know what to say. For me, it’s words I bob and weave to get away from like a dodgeball torpedoed at my head.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I really don’t. I know you’re doing the best you can. I simply hope to provide a little cause for pause if this is your go-to condolence.
Plus, consider yourself lucky. If hearing about these sorts of losses and deaths makes you uncomfortable to the point that your brain turns to mush, it might be because you haven’t experienced this kind of grief yourself. That’s something to be happy about. And trust me when I say, I’m happy for you. I really am!
Okay, now that we know why this phrase can rub the aggrieved the wrong way, what can we say instead?
Rephrase the Loss Apology
Tweak your sentiments slightly, and suddenly you’ve got a phrase that feels authentic and relatable, at least to me.
I’m perfectly happy with:
“I’m sorry you had to…
- go through that.
- experience that.
- deal with such early losses.
- encounter these tragedies so early on.
- figure out how to navigate life on your own without your parents.
You get the point. Any iteration of this phrase works for me for two reasons. First, because it acknowledges my personal experience, versus framing the deaths as my loss and my loss alone. Second, because, although you may not be able to relate, a sense of empathy and authenticity comes through by recognizing that these palpable losses had palpable effects.
Share a Memory
The absolute best condolence I ever received came from a young man I had never met. We were at my mom’s funeral when he came up to introduce himself. He was the son of one of her co-workers, though her name wasn’t familiar. His presence was a little quizzical to me, as his eyes were red, his nose was runny, yet I had no idea who he was.
He told me he’d gotten to talking to her when he’d visit his mom in the office. Apparently, they developed a rapport over time. So much so that she was the first person he decided to come out to. He told me how she received this news with love, support, and a welcomed ambivalence that let him know it was okay to be himself. That nothing was different with this added piece of information.
I have tears in my eyes as I write this. To this day, that short encounter has been the best gift any single human has ever given me regarding my mom. It brought comfort. It let me know she touched others (and kept treasured things to herself). It showed the magnitude of her loss outside of myself.
When you lose a parent to (food) addiction the way I did, it’s very easy to vilify them. They should’ve known better. Done better. Been better.
Then I think of that story and, at least in that instance, she’s a goddamn hero in my eyes. And not for how she received the news—though she seemed to handle that well—but for being such a source of support and comfort to this young man that he chose her, of all people, to come out to.
Wow. I can’t say I’ve ever left an impact like that on someone. That is admirable, and the encounter is something I’ll treasure always.
I do want to add a slight caveat to sharing stories about the deceased, though. It’s all about right place, right time. Had I been going into a meeting, about to speak to a crowd, or been ready to engage in anything that involved my full attention and right mind, this would not have been the time to share something that might have made me crumble.
This strategy requires you to read the room a little, but it can be the best condolence you can bestow if the timing is right.
The Leading Statement
As the above example shows, your statement doesn’t even need to involve an apology. After all, you didn’t kill them, right? If you did, totally apologize. Hopefully from behind bars.
Anyway, I love the leading statement strategy because it gives the aggrieved options.
“That must have been so hard for you.”
“I’m sure that was a difficult thing to experience so young.”
These open-ended statements give us choices. We can simply acknowledge them, usher an appreciative thank you, and steer the conversation in another direction if we don’t feel like deep diving into grief.
Or we can use them as a jumping off point and say, “It was really hard, I think the most difficult thing was…” Now we’re in a conversation. An exchange. Two people on the same side discussing an experience. It’s not me on one side receiving an apology about a “singular” loss and you on the other, nervously scratching at your neck and wincing, wondering what happens next.
And, in case you’re wondering, yes, I am absolutely guilty of wielding this phrase myself. I’ve never appreciated hearing it or saying it, but I’ve really started to internalize how hollow these words are recently, since discussing my parents’ deaths more publicly.
So let’s all strive to do better. I know we can. If we shift our thinking more toward what may benefit the aggrieved—versus allowing the first obligatory phrase we can think of to pop out of our mouths—these encounters will be a lot less uncomfortable.
And, if all else fails, show us a picture of your dog. They always bring comfort, relatability, and connection. Hey, they don’t call them emotional support animals for nothing…
-
What Forgiveness Really Means and Why It’s the Ultimate Freedom
I used to loathe the word “forgiveness.”
What it meant to me was that someone could hurt me, lie to me, or even abuse me, say “sorry,” and I was supposed to pretend like nothing happened. If I didn’t, they would say to me, “I thought you were a forgiving person,” or “What? I already said I was sorry.”
It felt awful, outside and inside.
I had one relationship that I knew very well wasn’t good for me and I wanted out of, but my misunderstanding of what the word “forgiveness” meant kept me stuck there for a very long time.
The person would lie repeatedly and never come clean. When things came out (as they often do), the person would claim to be sorry or that they were “getting better” and then expect me to just go on as if nothing had happened.
My trust for them was eroded, and by staying there, that spilled over into my trust for other people and even myself. My self-worth also became depleted. I felt powerless because I believed that, in order to be a good, forgiving person, I had to accept as many meaningless “sorries” as this person was going to dribble out. I lost motivation and became depressed and drained.
It felt like forgiving was designed to punish the person who was hurt.
I had heard the phrases “forgiveness sets you free,” and “forgiveness is for you, not them,” and neither made any sense because I certainly did not feel free, and there appeared to be nothing in it for me to keep allowing their nonsense.
Well, it didn’t make sense because “forgiveness” wasn’t what I believed it was at all.
One day, I looked it up in the dictionary.
Forgiveness definition: “to let go of anger and resentment towards a person or event from the past.”
Forgiveness is that—just that. Ceasing to carry around resentment or anger inside of yourself for what happened in the past.
It doesn’t say you’re supposed to pretend it never happened.
It doesn’t say you’re supposed to trust the person again after they broke your trust, just because you have forgiven them.
It doesn’t even say you have to speak to them again.
Ever.
Forgiveness IS for you.
Forgiveness DOES set you free.
Forgiveness means you stop carrying around the pain of the past inside of you. So that you don’t bring it into every new place you go, allowing it to bubble up and explode on people who had nothing to do with causing you injury.
If you decide to forgive a person but not speak to them again because you know you can’t trust them, that’s 100% wise to do and doesn’t mean you’re unforgiving. It means your trust was broken, and they gave you no reason to think it would not be broken again, so you decided to separate. Or maybe they made promises and broke them again and again until your trust for them was entirely demolished.
Forgiveness doesn’t have to mean reconciliation.
Forgiveness means you accept that what happened has happened and can’t be changed. It means if a memory pops up or gets triggered, you’re not fired up by that anger and resentment and completely disempowered in that moment as if you were still living in the past.
It isn’t instant, nor easy, and there is a process to it that involves acceptance, reflection, wisdom, and presence before the release. It takes time. It takes work. Memories can catch you off guard, but once you are aware of what is happening, you can use the process on them and dissolve them as they come.
Knowing what forgiveness is—real actual forgiveness—and applying it to my life has been absolutely life-changing.
I no longer poison present days with past pain. I can hear a song that reminds me of a painful time in the past and not get set off at all. I didn’t forget what happened, but it no longer has power over me.
This is the gift of forgiveness. It’s not for them, about them, or dependent on them. It is for you, about you, takes place within you, and gives you your life back. It gives you and all those who you choose to have in your life now the best version of you, unencumbered by haunting memories.
You don’t forget, you don’t erase, you heal.
