I Spent Years Trying to Forgive Him
I was a teenager when I started trying. Everyone told me forgiveness was how I would heal. That it was for me, not for him. That it would help me move on.
I didn’t feel any of that.
The more I tried to forgive my biological father, the more trapped I felt. It was as if he still had control, as if I was expected to take responsibility for what he did by releasing him from it. Nothing about that felt honest.
It didn’t loosen anything. It didn’t bring peace. It made me feel like I had to rewrite the past to make other people comfortable.
When He Died, I Giggled
There was no apology, no conversation, no closure. I found out through a text message from someone else. He was just gone.
My first reaction was to giggle.
It wasn’t because I’m a heartless person. It just came from somewhere deep in my body. It felt like something cracked open, like a pressure valve releasing after decades of holding tension.
The way he died felt like a strange kind of justice. Like something had been settled. Like the universe handled something I was never going to get closure for.
There was no funeral. No decision to make. Just this sudden truth that he no longer existed, and with him, any fantasies I may have had of some final healing moment disappeared too.
The Version of Healing They Want From You
Forgiveness is sold to us like a freakin miracle drug.
There’s a script people expect you to follow: survive something awful, find your strength, forgive the person who hurt you, and become someone inspirational.
They say it’s for you. That if you don’t forgive, you’ll stay bitter. That anger will poison you. That grace is your responsibility. Healed people don’t hold grudges.
But I call bullshit.
This version of forgiveness isn’t about you. It is about making other people more comfortable.
Forgiveness has become a performance. And the world expects you to wrap your trauma in soft words and a tidy ending so they don’t have to face what really happened, or sit with you in your pain.
But I’m not interested in making anyone comfortable.
What Healing Actually Looked Like
There was no single turning point. No tidy moment where I let it all go. There were just years of sorting through the wreckage and slowly choosing not to repeat what was done to me.
I didn’t become more graceful. I became more honest. I started calling things what they were. I stopped trying to be easy to love. I began paying attention to the parts of me that had never felt safe and started figuring out what safety even meant.
There’s still work I’m doing. I spent a long time living like love had to be earned and stillness wasn’t safe. That doesn’t undo itself overnight. But I don’t carry the weight of him anymore. That left with the giggle.
You’re Allowed to Heal Without Forgiving
This idea that forgiveness is always the goal is not just untrue, it’s harmful.
There are people you will never forgive. Not because you’re stuck or broken, but because they don’t deserve that from you. Because you finally understand that forgiveness is not a requirement for freedom. It’s not a measure of your wholeness.
Some people will never be sorry. Some people will never change. And some stories don’t need to be softened.
What I Chose Instead
I didn’t forgive him. I stopped waiting for something that was never coming. I stopped twisting myself up trying to make meaning out of what he did. I stopped needing a version of him I could live with.
That’s what breaking the cycle looked like for me. I’ve worked hard to build a life where I don’t need to explain myself to be understood. Where I don’t have to play the role of the one who rose above. Where I don’t have to pretend I feel something I don’t.
I’m not unhealed because I told the truth. I’m not stuck because I didn’t offer redemption. I’m not carrying this heavy burden because I chose not to forgive.
I’m finished believing that I am not healing because it doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to.
Final Note
You’ve probably heard it a hundred times: “forgiveness is for you.”
But maybe that’s a lie we’ve been told to keep us quiet. Maybe it was always for them.
And maybe the real healing is what happens when you stop pretending you’re okay with what happened. When you stop editing your story to make it easier for other people to swallow.
You don’t need forgiveness to be whole.
You need the truth. You need your life back. You need to stop carrying things that were never yours to begin with.
Love today,
Heather 🌸
Know someone who has been struggling with forgiveness? Give this post a share.