I Forgave Everyone Who Hurt Me—Except Myself

Forgiveness is something people talk about like it’s simple. Just let it go, they say. Free yourself from the weight of anger, resentment, and pain. I tried to live by that advice. I gave forgiveness freely to those who betrayed me, left me, lied to me, and broke me in ways I didn’t think I could recover from. And in many ways, it worked. The bitterness I once carried toward others loosened its grip on me.

But there was one person I couldn’t forgive. Myself.

For years, I replayed my mistakes like a film on repeat. The words I shouldn’t have said, the chances I didn’t take, the relationships I sabotaged, the times I ignored my instincts and ended up hurt because of it. Every wrong turn felt like proof that I wasn’t enough—that I was my own worst enemy.

When someone else hurt me, I had a script: They’re human. They make mistakes. People don’t always know better until they’ve already caused harm. That compassion, however, stopped at the edge of my own reflection. I didn’t extend it inward. Instead, I punished myself with silence, with shame, with the endless reminder that I should have known better.

I forgave the friend who betrayed my trust. I forgave the partner who couldn’t love me the way I needed. I even forgave family members who failed me when I needed them most. But when I thought about forgiving myself—for ignoring red flags, for staying too long in situations that broke me, for letting my insecurities ruin good things—I couldn’t do it. It felt like if I forgave myself, I’d be letting myself off the hook, and I didn’t think I deserved that mercy.

Forgiveness, when given to others, often feels like strength. But when directed inward, it feels selfish. That’s the lie I told myself for years.

It took me a long time to realize that my inability to forgive myself was holding me hostage. I wasn’t freeing myself from guilt or shame; I was keeping myself chained to it. And those chains made everything heavier—relationships, opportunities, even joy. I could laugh, but it never lasted long, because the moment things quieted down, I’d remember the person I blamed most: me.

Healing began slowly, almost reluctantly. I started by asking myself a simple question: Would I talk to someone I love the way I talk to myself? The answer was always no. I would never tell a friend, “You’re worthless because you made a mistake.” I would never tell a sibling, “You don’t deserve love because you trusted the wrong person.” Yet I told myself these things daily.

If I believed everyone else was worthy of a second chance, why didn’t I believe I was?

The truth is, forgiving yourself doesn’t mean erasing what happened. It doesn’t mean pretending the mistakes didn’t occur. It means acknowledging that you were human in those moments too. It means giving yourself the same compassion you’ve been willing to extend to people who may never apologize or even recognize the pain they caused you.

One of the hardest parts was letting go of the illusion of control. I kept believing that if I replayed my mistakes enough times, I could change them. That maybe, somehow, I could rewrite the past. But I couldn’t. None of us can. What I could do, though, was choose not to let those mistakes define me.

Little by little, I began forgiving myself in small ways. I stopped calling myself “stupid” when I remembered past decisions. I started saying, You did the best you could with what you knew at the time. And slowly, that voice of kindness grew louder than the voice of shame.

Forgiving myself didn’t happen overnight. Some days, I still slip into old habits of self-blame. But now I recognize it for what it is: a wound that still needs care, not punishment. Forgiveness isn’t about excusing the past. It’s about choosing not to carry its weight into the future.

I once believed forgiving others would bring me peace, and to an extent, it did. But real peace came when I finally turned that forgiveness inward. When I let myself be human, when I accepted that mistakes are not proof of unworthiness but proof that I am alive, learning, and growing.

I forgave everyone who hurt me. And slowly, I am learning to forgive myself too. Because if I don’t, no one else can do it for me.


Thank you for reading this 🥰.