Forgiving Myself Was the Hardest Part

We talk a lot about forgiveness.

Forgiving those who hurt us.

Those who left.

Those who disappointed us, betrayed us, broke us.

But what we don’t talk about enough is this:

Sometimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself.

I learned that the long, painful way.

🕳️ The Weight I Carried

I didn’t realize how much I was dragging behind me.

Not physical weight—but emotional bricks I’d picked up over time:

Guilt for the people I pushed away.

Regret over the chances I didn’t take.

Shame for the versions of myself I had outgrown.

Silence over the things I should have said but didn’t.

I thought I had forgiven others.

But I was still at war with myself.

Because deep down, I believed I should’ve known better.

Should’ve done better.

Should’ve been better.

💬 The Quiet Voice That Haunted Me

There was this voice in the back of my mind—

one that whispered on the bad days and shouted on the worst:

“You messed it all up.”

“You always ruin the good things.”

“You don’t deserve peace after what you did.”

And I listened.

I let that voice dictate how I saw myself.

I let it convince me that healing was for people more worthy.

I wore my mistakes like permanent ink.

And forgiveness felt like something I wasn’t allowed to reach for.

💡 When I Realized I Was Punishing Myself

I thought guilt was noble.

That if I carried it long enough, maybe it would redeem me.

But all it did was chain me to my past.

I wasn’t learning from my mistakes—I was reliving them.

On repeat.

With no resolution, no compassion, no movement forward.

It hit me one night like a quiet truth:

I wasn’t waiting for others to forgive me.

I was waiting for permission to forgive myself.

And that permission could only come from me.

🕊️ The Turning Point

Forgiveness didn’t arrive like lightning.

It was soft. Slow. Awkward at first.

It began with small things:

Writing myself an apology letter.

Speaking gently to my reflection.

Catching the shame spirals and asking, “Is this really helping?”

Letting myself feel without judgment.

One moment at a time, I started choosing understanding over punishment.

Empathy over shame.

Healing over self-blame.

And the more I did, the more I realized something powerful:

I am not the sum of my worst moments.

I am who I chose to become after them.

🌱 The Lessons My Mistakes Taught Me

We’re so quick to label our past selves as foolish.

But hindsight is always perfect.

At the time, I was doing my best with what I knew.

With the tools I had. With the pain I carried.

I look back now and see:

A person who was hurting, and didn’t know how to ask for help.

A heart that loved too hard, too fast, and didn’t know how to let go.

A mind that was trying to protect itself—even when it didn’t know how.

And I’ve stopped blaming that version of me.

Because they got me here.

To this healing. To this growth.

💬 The Truth About Self-Forgiveness

Forgiving yourself isn’t saying “what I did was okay.”

It’s saying, “I’m no longer going to punish myself for it.”

It’s acknowledging the harm—but refusing to stay stuck in it.

It’s making amends when you can—and making peace when you can’t.

It’s promising yourself: I will do better, because I deserve better.

And you do.

Even with your flaws.

Even with your mistakes.

Even with the versions of you that still make you cringe a little.

💌 Final Words for the One Struggling to Let Go

If you’re still carrying something you haven’t forgiven yourself for, I want you to know this:

You are not the worst thing you’ve done.

You are not beyond redemption.

You are not broken beyond repair.

You are a human being who has stumbled, learned, and kept going.

And that matters.

So today—maybe just today—try softening toward yourself.

Place a hand over your heart.

Say, “I forgive you.”

Even if you don’t fully mean it yet.

Because healing begins with permission.

And forgiveness begins with grace.

You don’t have to carry it all forever.

Let yourself be free.