How Can I Forgive You?

"Forgiveness is a strange thing. It can sometimes be easier to forgive our enemies than our friends. It can be hardest of all to forgive people we love."

— Fred Rogers.

In my last post, I wrote about the art of making a genuine apology — what it looks like to take real responsibility and begin to repair what's been broken. But an apology, even a good one, is only one side of the equation. Once we've done the work of saying I'm sorry, there's another question waiting: What comes next?

Sometimes, what comes next is asking for forgiveness. And sometimes, it's learning how to give it.

Asking for forgiveness

Organizational psychologist Adam Grant suggests that after offering a sincere apology, it's worth making a direct request: Are we good? Or, more vulnerably: I would love to earn your forgiveness. What can I do to repair this?

There's something important in that phrasing — earn your forgiveness. It acknowledges that forgiveness isn't owed, and it isn't instant. It's something we can ask for, but never demand. "And if it doesn't come right away — or not at all — that's not entirely within our control." What is within our control is the quality of our actions going forward. We ask. We show up. We wait.

What forgiveness actually is

When the hurt is on the other side — when we're the ones who've been wronged — we face a different kind of work.

Psychiatrist Judith Orloff describes forgiveness as "the conscious, voluntary process of releasing resentment, anger, and thoughts of vengeance toward someone who has caused hurt, regardless of whether they deserve it." She's clear that it's not about condoning what happened. It's not about forgetting. It's not even necessarily about reconciling with the person who hurt you.

Forgiveness is something you do for yourself. And yet, knowing that doesn't always make it easier.

What I learned at the end of my marriage

At the end of my marriage, I was a seething bundle of anger and bitterness. I had real grievances, and I held onto them tightly, the way you grip something you're afraid to lose — even when it's hurting your hand.

What I came to understand, fairly quickly, was that my resentment wasn't punishing my former partner. It was punishing me. And more than that, it was going to hurt my children. They needed two parents who could be in a room together, who could show up at the same events, who could put them first. My bitterness had the potential to stand in the way of that.

Moving beyond it wasn't easy. It took support — from friends, from a therapist, from my own willingness to sit with my own painful feelings. It took finding some measure of understanding for my former partner, and it took the harder work of looking honestly at my own part in what had gone wrong. But over time, something loosened, and eventually, I found myself free. Not free from the memory of the pain, but free from being ruled by it. It made me a healthier person and a more collaborative co-parent.

That freedom didn't come from my former partner doing anything differently. It came from a choice I made, over and over again, to let go and to forgive.

Why we hold on

Holding a grudge makes a certain kind of sense. When someone we love hurts us, anger is a natural and protective response. It tells us that something mattered, and that we matter.

But when we allow that anger to harden into resentment, it has a way of seeping into everything. It colors new relationships. It keeps us anchored to a past we can't change. It becomes, as someone once said, like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to get sick.

What research tells us is what many of us have felt: forgiveness significantly decreases stress, rage, and physical symptoms of distress. The Mayo Clinic connects it to healthier relationships, lower blood pressure, improved mental health, and greater self-esteem. The science, it turns out, lines up with what some traditions have said for centuries: releasing resentment is an act of self-love.

Moving toward forgiveness

Forgiveness isn't a single moment of decision. It's a practice — sometimes a long one. With my clients, I’ve found a few things that can help:

Acknowledge what you're actually feeling. Anger, grief, betrayal — name them. Trying to skip over your emotions in the name of being a better person often just drives them underground.

Separate the person from the behavior. This doesn't mean excusing what they did. It means recognizing that people are more than their worst moments — and so are you.

Try to understand, without excusing. Thinking about what might have shaped the other person's actions isn't the same as letting them off the hook. It's a way of loosening the grip that their actions have on you.

Give it time, and give yourself grace. Thich Nhat Hanh wrote that "forgiveness will not be possible until compassion is born in your heart." Compassion isn't something you manufacture on demand – it grows with time.

Seek support. Forgiveness is hard to do alone. A trusted friend or family member, a coach, a support group — having someone to process with makes a real difference.

And remember: forgiveness is possible even when reconciliation isn't. You can release resentment toward someone you'll never speak to again. You can make peace with a past that never gets resolved. Forgiveness doesn't require the other person's participation; it only requires yours.

A note on what's ahead

There's one more dimension of forgiveness I haven't touched on yet, and it may be the most challenging of all: forgiving ourselves. That deserves its own conversation — and that's where we're headed next.

For now, I'll leave you with this: Mahatma Gandhi is often quoted as saying that the weak can never forgive, that forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. I believe that. It takes real strength to set down a grievance you have every right to carry. It takes courage, and intention, and often, a lot of practice.

But the freedom on the other side? It's worth it.

Is there a resentment you've been carrying that might be ready to be set down? If you're navigating a relationship rupture — or simply want to move through the world with a little more ease — I'd love to offer a complimentary discovery session. Reach out — I'm here.

With warmth,

Wendy