Many of us think we know what it is to forgive others, but how about forgiving ourselves? Today we will delve into both aspects of forgiveness. Now, before we get too deep into the heavy spiritual lifting, let me share a small, silly personal observation.
I think the world is divided into two types of people: those who immediately forgive themselves for eating that extra cookie, and those who mentally catalog the exact calorie count and self-flagellate for two hours.
I am firmly in the second camp. I am my own most dedicated auditor, critic, and—frankly—my own worst enemy when it comes to mistakes. If you’re anything like me, you know that the hardest person to forgive is often the one staring back at you in the mirror.
We tend to think of forgiveness as a simple, two-step process: someone hurts you, and then you check a box that says, “I forgive them.” Done. But genuine, spiritual forgiveness is rarely simple, and it has two massive parts: the ability to let go of what others have done, and the often more difficult task of letting go of what we have done.
Let’s start with forgiving others. When someone hurts us—whether it’s a minor slight or a serious injury—our natural human response is to hold onto that pain. We store the hurt, replay the tape, and build a little monument to the injustice in our hearts. We call this “righteousness,” but it’s really just a stone wall we are building around our own spirit. We often refuse to forgive because we think holding onto the anger is the only way to make the other person pay. We believe our grudge is a punishment.
But here is the spiritual truth: unforgiveness is a poison you drink, hoping the other person will get sick. It never works. They may be totally unaware of the torment you are carrying for them.
Forgiveness is not saying, “What you did was okay.” It’s not condoning the behavior. It is saying, “I refuse to let the space you occupy in my mind be one of pain and resentment anymore.” It is the spiritual act of cutting the cord that tethers your energy to their past mistake. It’s a unilateral declaration of independence for your soul.
But the greatest challenge is forgiving ourselves. Self-forgiveness becomes a real spiritual marathon. Unfortunately, we are masters at remembering our own worst moments. We have a mental highlight reel of every awkward mistake, every clumsy word, every decision we regret. Mine is expressed in songs.
We tell ourselves stories like, “I am a person who always messes up,” or “I am defined by that failure,” or “I don’t deserve peace until I’ve suffered enough.” This internal state of unforgiveness is called shame. When you refuse to forgive yourself, you are denying your own inherent worth. You are saying, “The cosmic grace that applies to everyone else—the grace that says you are worthy of love—does not apply to me.” That is what I call a spiritual tragedy.
Before we talk about the how of self-forgiveness, I want to pause and reflect musically on this very struggle with guilt. It’s a powerful piece called “I Forgive Me.”
That song asks us to be utterly honest about the cost of internal shame. It asks us to confront the fact that we are exhausted by the self-created cycle of self-blame, and then offers us a path to release—for ourselves, and for others.
So, how do we begin the process of self-forgiveness? It starts with being generous with your attempts, even if they led to failure. When you look back at the mistake you keep replaying, tell yourself a more generous story about your actions.
Instead of saying, “I ruined that opportunity because I’m incompetent,” try saying: “I did the best I could with the resources, knowledge, and emotional control I had at that time.” Or: “I made a mistake, which proves I am human—not that I am worthless.” This isn’t an excuse. It is acknowledging that you were an imperfect human being doing an imperfect thing. This is the spiritual power of self-compassion.
Forgiveness is also a mechanism of repair and release. In both instances—forgiving others and forgiving ourselves—forgiveness is about release.
When we forgive others, we release the burden of being their judge. When we forgive ourselves, we release the burden of being our own jailer. Forgiveness is the practice of repair. We use our hands to re-stitch our psyche. When you forgive yourself, you are saying, “I am healing this piece of my psyche, this crucial spot where I stand.” And when you heal your own spot, you make your whole psyche stronger for everyone around you.
Forgiveness, ultimately, is not a feeling of warmth toward the person who erred. Sometimes, we never feel that warmth. Forgiveness is a commitment—a commitment to your own peace.
It is a spiritual practice that says: my energy is too valuable to spend on re-hashing the past. My worth is too inherent to be diminished by a past mistake, whether it was mine or someone else’s. I choose peace. I choose healing. I choose to be present today. I commit to this act of self-compassion, and through it, extend that same boundless grace to everyone I meet.
You are worthy...