Forgiveness is one of those words that I’ve wrestled with for many years.
As a counsellor, it’s a topic that comes up time and time again. Clients often arrive believing they should forgive. They’ve been told it’s the only way to move on. Yet for many, the very word feels heavy, impossible, and sometimes even shaming.
The more I work with people, and the more life has taught me, the more I question what forgiveness really means.
I wonder if we’ve misunderstood it.
Sometimes I think the idea of forgiveness can unintentionally create a hierarchy. It places one person in the position of deciding whether another deserves forgiveness. It can feel as though one person is somehow above another. Equally, when we’re the one seeking forgiveness, we can feel beneath someone else, waiting for permission to be free from our mistakes.
Neither of those places feels particularly healing to me.
What if we stopped looking at forgiveness as something we give to another person and instead saw it as something that naturally grows from our own healing?
Because the truth is, every single one of us is flawed.
We all make mistakes.
Some are small, others have life-changing consequences. Sometimes our actions are intentional; often they’re not. Many are born from our own pain, fear, trauma, or simply not knowing another way at the time.
Understanding that doesn’t excuse harmful behaviour.
But it does remind us of our shared humanity.
Life has taught me this in ways I could never have imagined.
Like many people, there have been times when I’ve been deeply hurt by others. There have also been times when I’ve carried enormous guilt, questioned decisions, replayed events over and over, and wished I could rewrite parts of my own story.
I’ve also lived through situations where there were no neat endings. No heartfelt apology. No opportunity to sit down and resolve everything.
Some chapters simply don’t end that way.
For a long time, I believed that healing somehow depended on those loose ends being tied up. That if someone acknowledged the pain they’d caused, perhaps then I could finally move forward.
But healing doesn’t always wait for an apology.
Sometimes it can’t.
One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned—both personally and professionally—is that if my peace depends on another person’s awareness, remorse, or ability to change, then I’ve unknowingly handed them the keys to my wellbeing.
That was a difficult lesson to learn.
As many of you know, my own journey into this work wasn’t born from textbooks. It came through my own healing. Long before I became a counsellor, I found myself searching for answers through Reiki, hypnotherapy, spiritual practices and, eventually, counselling itself. I didn’t begin this work because life had been easy. I began because I needed to find a way through my own darkness.
Then life presented me with challenges I could never have prepared for.
Supporting someone you love through severe mental illness changes you. It stretches every belief you have about love, grief, fear, hope and acceptance. It teaches you that life isn’t black and white. It teaches you that people can do things completely out of character when they are profoundly unwell.
It also teaches you compassion.
Not just for others.
For yourself.
I’ve learned that healing isn’t about pretending painful things didn’t happen.
It’s not saying, “That’s okay.”
Sometimes it isn’t okay.
Sometimes what happened changed your life forever.
Healing isn’t about forgetting.
It’s about gently loosening the grip those experiences continue to have over your nervous system, your thoughts, your relationships and your future.
I’ve realised that forgiveness and reconciliation are two completely different things.
You can heal without allowing someone back into your life.
You can find peace while still having healthy boundaries.
You can understand someone’s behaviour without accepting it.
As therapists, we often talk about processing anger, grief and trauma. Those emotions deserve space. They shouldn’t be rushed because someone else believes forgiveness is the end goal.
Personally, I don’t think forgiveness is the goal anymore.
Healing is.
When healing happens, something beautiful often follows naturally.
The resentment softens.
The anger no longer burns quite so fiercely.
The memories lose some of their emotional charge.
Not because we’ve excused what happened, but because it no longer owns us.
The same applies to forgiving ourselves.
How many of us carry shame for decisions made during the hardest seasons of our lives?
How many of us judge a younger version of ourselves who was simply trying to survive with the knowledge, resources and emotional capacity we had at the time?
Self-forgiveness isn’t about avoiding responsibility.
It’s about allowing ourselves to grow beyond our mistakes.
Perhaps forgiveness isn’t something we strive for at all.
Perhaps it’s simply what remains when we’ve done the deep work of healing.
Maybe the question isn’t…
“Do they deserve my forgiveness?”
Maybe the question is…
“Am I ready to stop carrying what happened?”
Because in the end, forgiveness was never really about the other person.
It was always about finding my way back to myself.
And if my own journey has taught me anything, it’s this:
Healing doesn’t change the past.
But it can completely transform the way we carry it into the future.
Is Forgiveness Really About the Other Person?
