Learning to Forgive Myself

Learning to Forgive Myself
Why Self-Forgiveness Was Harder Than Forgiving Anyone Else


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I’ve spent most of my life believing I was a forgiving person.

I could let go of other people’s mistakes.
I could see their side.
I could say, “It’s okay, I understand.”

I thought that made me kind.

And maybe it did.

But there was one person I couldn’t forgive, no matter how hard I tried.

Myself.


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It took me years to realize that self-forgiveness is a completely different skill.

It’s not about excusing your mistakes or pretending you didn’t do harm.
It’s about acknowledging what you did wrong—and choosing to let go anyway.
Choosing to keep living.
Choosing to give yourself another chance.


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I grew up thinking mistakes were evidence of unworthiness.

If I hurt someone, I felt like I was bad.
If I failed, I thought I was worthless.
If I disappointed someone, I felt like I didn’t deserve love.

So I got good at saying sorry to others.
But I was terrible at saying it to myself.


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When I let someone down, I would punish myself over and over.
Even after they forgave me.
Even after they moved on.
I couldn’t move on.

I would replay the moment in my head.
Rewriting it, scolding myself, hating myself.

As if somehow, enough guilt could undo the harm.


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But guilt isn’t a time machine.

It can’t fix the past.

It can only poison the present.


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There was a friendship I lost because of something I said in anger.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it was careless.
Hurtful.

They stopped talking to me.

And even after they forgave me months later, I didn’t forgive myself.
I kept thinking I was a bad friend.
Untrustworthy.
Unworthy.

I let that mistake define me.


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When I failed an important exam, I told myself it was because I was stupid.
Lazy.
Hopeless.

Even though it was one moment in time, I used it as proof I didn’t deserve good things.


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I didn’t know how to be gentle with myself.

I didn’t know how to say:

> “You messed up. But you’re human. And you can try again.”




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Instead, I thought punishing myself was noble.

Like it proved I cared.

But all it really did was keep me stuck.


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It’s strange—how hard it is to show ourselves the same grace we offer others.

If a friend told me they were struggling to forgive themselves, I would comfort them.
I’d tell them they deserve to move on.
That they’re allowed to make mistakes.

But when it was me?

I’d say: “You should have known better. You don’t deserve forgiveness.”


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It’s easy to believe being hard on yourself is the same as being responsible.

But it’s not.

Responsibility is owning what you did, learning from it, and doing better.

Self-hatred is refusing to believe you can do better.


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There was a day when I hit a breaking point.

I was exhausted from carrying so much guilt.
Over small things.
Over old things.
Over things that weren’t even fully my fault.

I realized I was spending my entire life apologizing for existing.


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So I asked myself:

What if I deserved the same kindness I gave other people?

What if I was allowed to try, fail, and try again?

What if forgiveness wasn’t just something I gave away—but something I kept for myself?


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It wasn’t an instant transformation.

It’s still hard.

There are days when the old voice creeps back in:

> “You’re awful. You’re a failure. You don’t deserve anything good.”



But I try to answer it now.

> “You made mistakes. But you’re trying. You’re learning. That matters.”




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I started writing letters to myself.

Letters saying:

> “I see what you did wrong. I see how you’re hurting. I forgive you. Let’s try again.”



It felt ridiculous at first.

But it helped.


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I also started apologizing to the people I hurt—even years later, when possible.
Not to make them forgive me, but because it was right.

And when they forgave me, I tried to believe them.
I tried to let their forgiveness teach me how to forgive myself.


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I learned that self-forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting.

It means remembering without hating yourself.
It means carrying the lesson without carrying the shame.
It means saying:

> “I’m human. I’m flawed. I want to do better. And I still deserve love.”




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I think about the people I’ve forgiven.

Some of them really hurt me.
But I let it go because I didn’t want to carry that bitterness.
Because I knew they were human too.

So why wouldn’t I do the same for myself?


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These days, when I mess up, I try to own it.

I apologize.
I make amends.
I think about how to avoid it next time.

And then I let it go.

Not because it didn’t matter.
But because it does.

Because I want to keep growing instead of getting stuck in shame.


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If you asked me what the hardest lesson I’ve learned is, I’d say this:

> I am worthy of forgiveness, too.




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Not just from others.
But from myself.


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And if you’re reading this, maybe you need to hear it too:

You don’t have to keep punishing yourself forever.
You don’t have to hold onto shame like it’s proof you’re good.
You don’t have to believe you’re unworthy because you messed up.

You can admit you did wrong.
You can try to make it right.
And you can still choose to move forward.

You can choose to forgive yourself.


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> It’s hard. But you’re allowed.