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“Forgiveness is a painful and difficult process. It’s not something that happens overnight. It’s a growth of the heart.” ~Sue Monk Kid
Sometimes I hear the word “sorry” and get nervous.
I’ve been struggling with this all year because I realized something In fact Uncomfortable: When I look back at the moments where I felt betrayed, in most cases, I wasn’t a victim of other people’s bad behavior — I was a willing participant.
For years, I lived in one-sided relationships and situations that asked me to shrink and conform to other people’s expectations. I gave everything and got it in pieces (and that includes some family).
I accepted criticism of my loving actions without expressing how I was feeling.
I walked on eggshells in hopes of minimizing the behavior that hurt me, and I lost myself in the process.
Still, I “performed” an apology after every slight, every disappointment, and every broken promise. I thought it made me grow. It actually made me a participant in my own degradation.
Recovering from this required a lot of commitment and patience and I am still working on it. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what forgiveness really is, what it isn’t, and what it entails.
For years I thought that forgiveness meant becoming a bigger person. This meant letting things go quickly, moving on, and not holding grudges. But I didn’t realize that my version of forgiveness was just another form of self-abandonment.
I was forgiving while my nervous system was still screaming. And it was a pattern.
For example, someone close to me would disregard my feelings, break my boundaries, and use any kind of double standard to make sure there were exceptions to the rules for their behavior. And I will not take up space. I’ll let them pick and choose.
I would justify their behavior because I wanted to take the high road, as opposed to quickly forgiving and moving on. So I did. I chose not to be difficult. But my body maintained the truth.
Your body knows when someone is being hurt. For me it was a stomach ache, a feeling of panic and a prickling sensation in the chest. Those sensations were demanding attention, but I silenced them by justifying them.
I was saying “I forgive you” because I thought it was a loving thing to do, while my body was still trying to process what had happened.
What I know now is this: Forgiveness is a process that only works when the body feels safe enough to be gentle. And where there is true love, there is space and grace, and no one forces you to get through it.
Forgiveness cannot be hasty. This has to happen naturally, and goes much further than repeating an affirmation when your nervous system is in survival mode.
Before we can forgive, we have to accept the truth of what happened. Even if we never share the truth with the person who caused the pain. Sometimes it remains in the letter you never send. Sometimes you scream into your pillow at 2 in the night. The important thing is that it gets expressed.
But before the truth can be spoken, something else usually emerges – anger.
Anger needs a voice.
We often calm down, reduce or spiritually distance our anger. But trying to forgive without paying attention to that anger is like putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. This is not okay; It thrives.
Anger needs expression. But expression is not projection. It’s between you and the anger, not a license to burn down everyone around you.
One practice that helped me was learning to give anger a certain space. I’ll set a timer for fifteen minutes and let him speak. write it out. Breathe through it. Let it go without drowning me.
When the timer ran out, I stepped back.
And when anger came at inconvenient moments, I didn’t ignore it. I accepted this: I hear you. I feel you. We have an appointment later.
Because anger has layers. Sometimes it takes more than one appointment. But when attention is paid to it – without coddling and without denial – healing begins naturally.
Only then can the truth be spoken without hurting oneself. Only then can the body become soft.
Look at your side of the road first.
Looking at my own role in adult relationships was one thing that accelerated this process. When I look back at instances where I felt betrayed or disappointed, the first thing I do is examine my side.
What did I allow? What have I not expressed? What was I trading in the name of love?
In most cases, my choice was not conscious. I worked based on what I knew then. I realized I couldn’t shame past versions of myself. Just as a parent can’t shame a child who needs protection, you are nurturing the parts of yourself that need guidance. This is where you validate yourself and see yourself.
What really cracked the code for me was talking to the part of me that was hurting. To delve into the experience of who I was at that time and get to know this version of myself more closely. I said to him: I see you. I know what happened. Here’s what we can do differently. I think it’s time to let it go and I’ll let it go with you. What do you think?
The stuff from childhood, when you were innocent and unable to protect yourself, is much harder to forgive. Yet, whether the injury comes from childhood or adulthood, the process is the same.
Don’t give your power to those who can’t hold it.
As the layers peel away, something changes. Not because anyone apologized. Not because there was verification. But because you ultimately see yourself.
Ultimately, perhaps, curiosity emerges. You start to wonder why people do what they do. That understanding does not erase your experience. It gives you knowledge. It teaches you wisdom.
You learn that not everyone has the capacity to love you well, and you stop pretending otherwise. You respect yourself accordingly.
And maybe one morning you’ll wake up and find there’s no sting anymore. Low charge. More neutrality. You remember what you learned without feeling the wound again.
That is forgiveness.
Forgiveness is a gift to yourself.
Once your body gets its energy back, once it remembers its truth, something powerful changes. You don’t have to make it happen.
You work to honor your anger, speak the truth, and protect your boundaries. And then one day forgiveness comes. Not because you were good enough, but because your nervous system finally felt safe enough to let go.
And maybe, after going through all this, you arrive at what Danielle LaPorte calls “blessing and release.” But the hurt came only after the brutal act of honoring.
Forgiveness is not an affirmation.
No performance. No moral responsibility.
Sometimes, if you’re lucky, the person who hurt you takes accountability and trust can be rebuilt. This is the end of Hollywood. It happens, but not always.
And sometimes forgiveness looks like this:
Your heart still chooses love, but from across the street. With peace in your home.
And this is enough.
Because anger no longer dominates you. Because you respected yourself.
That too is forgiveness.
So if you’re in this situation right now, if forgiveness seems impossible or feels like something you’re being pressured into doing, let me tell you: You’re not failing, and you don’t need to listen to anyone who tries to screw you over.
Fix it first. Give anger its due right. Speak your truth. And find an identity outside of your pain.
Forgiveness will come when it is ready. Not because you desired it, but because you made room for it.
About Christine Rodriguez
Christine Rodriguez is a spiritual life coach dedicated to helping others transform beliefs, thoughts, emotions, and behaviors that no longer serve them so they can create a life that is more aligned with their true desires and abilities. To work with him, please visit miracleshifts.com. You can find her on Instagram @miraculous transformation_christie.
