Revenge, resentment and the freedom of forgiveness
Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation but is something you give yourself. It’s not about erasing the past nor pretending the harm didn’t happen but about refusing to let it define you
Published: 04:03 PM,Mar 08,2025 | EDITED : 08:03 PM,Mar 08,2025
I have never been a forgiving person. When someone wronged me, I held onto it, letting anger and resentment fester.
Forgiveness always felt like letting them off the hook and giving them something they didn’t deserve. For most of my life, I believed holding onto my anger kept me strong, kept me in control.
I sought revenge. And while I’m not proud of it, I have, at times, taken it - strongly and decisively. I was capable of being extremely vengeful, and I was good at it. Perhaps too good. But recently, I had a conversation that changed everything.
A friend of mine, knowledgeable in Islam, spoke to me about the importance of forgiveness in our faith. We are both Muslims. That conversation planted a seed. And in an act I never thought myself capable of, I reached out to someone who had seriously harmed me and I forgave him.
To my absolute surprise, that act of forgiveness freed me. Not gradually. Instantly. It felt miraculous. Perhaps it was.
I have no idea how my forgiveness affected him. And, being honest, I don’t really care. My forgiveness was genuine, but whether it changed him, whether it made him reflect on his wrongdoing have no idea. I hope it did. But I doubt it. This man didn’t just disappoint me. He deliberately deceived me. He stole from me, manipulated me and acted fraudulently in a way that went beyond a simple mistake.
I carried that betrayal with me for many months, replaying it in my mind, feeling justified in my anger. I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Above all, I wanted revenge. But the truth was, my anger kept me emotionally tied to him.
After my conversation with my friend, I made a decision that shocked even me. I sent the man who had wronged me a message. I told him I forgave him, not because he deserved it but because I no longer wanted to carry the weight of his actions.
I also made it clear that I never wanted to see him again, but I prayed that God would bless him and his family with happiness. And that prayer was genuine. I wasn’t seeking an apology. I wasn’t trying to rebuild a relationship. I was simply letting go. I expected to feel foolish. Weak, even. Instead, I felt lighter. Stronger. The anger, the resentment and the bitterness had been chains around my mind, keeping me bound to this person long after our last interaction.
But the moment I forgave him, those chains broke. My thoughts were no longer occupied by what he had done or how I had been wronged.
I had detached from him in the most powerful way possible, not by ignoring him, not by pretending he didn’t exist but by choosing to release his hold on me. For years, I thought forgiveness was a gift you gave to the person who wronged you. I was wrong.
Forgiveness is something you give yourself. It’s not about erasing the past nor pretending the harm didn’t happen but about refusing to let it define you. Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation. It doesn’t mean trust. It doesn’t mean weakness. It means deciding that your peace of mind is worth more than your grudge. And for the first time in my life, I understand that.
Since my act of forgiveness, I have not thought of this man with anger. In fact, I barely think of him at all. And that is the real power of forgiveness, it doesn’t just lighten your emotional load; it removes the person’s influence over you entirely. I never expected to be someone who forgives. But I have learned that sometimes the best revenge isn’t anger or justice, it’s freedom. And that’s exactly what I gave myself.
Nor is forgiveness about letting someone off the hook and it certainly isn’t about accepting that wrong is right. It’s about removing a burden from your own shoulders. In many ways, it’s more selfish than altruistic because you forgive for yourself, to free yourself from that person emotionally, forever.
Of course, there are situations where forgiveness may be far more difficult. When the wrongdoing involves violent crimes, when loved ones are harmed, when the pain runs deeper than words. But even in such cases, forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing injustice to go unpunished.
It doesn’t mean excusing evil. It means refusing to let hatred consume you. Perhaps in some cases, forgiveness can even lead to change. A wrongdoer might come to understand the gravity of their actions not because they were met with rage but because they were met with a strength they didn’t expect.
Because forgiveness, I have learned, is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength.
The writer is a former Cambridge School Principal and an Interview Skills Advisor
Forgiveness always felt like letting them off the hook and giving them something they didn’t deserve. For most of my life, I believed holding onto my anger kept me strong, kept me in control.
I sought revenge. And while I’m not proud of it, I have, at times, taken it - strongly and decisively. I was capable of being extremely vengeful, and I was good at it. Perhaps too good. But recently, I had a conversation that changed everything.
A friend of mine, knowledgeable in Islam, spoke to me about the importance of forgiveness in our faith. We are both Muslims. That conversation planted a seed. And in an act I never thought myself capable of, I reached out to someone who had seriously harmed me and I forgave him.
To my absolute surprise, that act of forgiveness freed me. Not gradually. Instantly. It felt miraculous. Perhaps it was.
I have no idea how my forgiveness affected him. And, being honest, I don’t really care. My forgiveness was genuine, but whether it changed him, whether it made him reflect on his wrongdoing have no idea. I hope it did. But I doubt it. This man didn’t just disappoint me. He deliberately deceived me. He stole from me, manipulated me and acted fraudulently in a way that went beyond a simple mistake.
I carried that betrayal with me for many months, replaying it in my mind, feeling justified in my anger. I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Above all, I wanted revenge. But the truth was, my anger kept me emotionally tied to him.
After my conversation with my friend, I made a decision that shocked even me. I sent the man who had wronged me a message. I told him I forgave him, not because he deserved it but because I no longer wanted to carry the weight of his actions.
I also made it clear that I never wanted to see him again, but I prayed that God would bless him and his family with happiness. And that prayer was genuine. I wasn’t seeking an apology. I wasn’t trying to rebuild a relationship. I was simply letting go. I expected to feel foolish. Weak, even. Instead, I felt lighter. Stronger. The anger, the resentment and the bitterness had been chains around my mind, keeping me bound to this person long after our last interaction.
But the moment I forgave him, those chains broke. My thoughts were no longer occupied by what he had done or how I had been wronged.
I had detached from him in the most powerful way possible, not by ignoring him, not by pretending he didn’t exist but by choosing to release his hold on me. For years, I thought forgiveness was a gift you gave to the person who wronged you. I was wrong.
Forgiveness is something you give yourself. It’s not about erasing the past nor pretending the harm didn’t happen but about refusing to let it define you. Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation. It doesn’t mean trust. It doesn’t mean weakness. It means deciding that your peace of mind is worth more than your grudge. And for the first time in my life, I understand that.
Since my act of forgiveness, I have not thought of this man with anger. In fact, I barely think of him at all. And that is the real power of forgiveness, it doesn’t just lighten your emotional load; it removes the person’s influence over you entirely. I never expected to be someone who forgives. But I have learned that sometimes the best revenge isn’t anger or justice, it’s freedom. And that’s exactly what I gave myself.
Nor is forgiveness about letting someone off the hook and it certainly isn’t about accepting that wrong is right. It’s about removing a burden from your own shoulders. In many ways, it’s more selfish than altruistic because you forgive for yourself, to free yourself from that person emotionally, forever.
Of course, there are situations where forgiveness may be far more difficult. When the wrongdoing involves violent crimes, when loved ones are harmed, when the pain runs deeper than words. But even in such cases, forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing injustice to go unpunished.
It doesn’t mean excusing evil. It means refusing to let hatred consume you. Perhaps in some cases, forgiveness can even lead to change. A wrongdoer might come to understand the gravity of their actions not because they were met with rage but because they were met with a strength they didn’t expect.
Because forgiveness, I have learned, is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength.
The writer is a former Cambridge School Principal and an Interview Skills Advisor