Chapter 1: The Complexity of Apologies

It's often said that saying "sorry" is one of the hardest things to do, but I beg to differ. Throughout my life, I have encountered numerous instances of betrayal and disappointment from friends, coworkers, and even family. In each case, one thing remained constant: the presence of an apology, typically accompanied by an expectation of immediate forgiveness, as though it were a debt that must be repaid.

• “I apologize for leaving you to raise our daughter alone after insisting on having a child.”
• “I'm sorry I missed your graduation, despite being reminded three months ahead.”
• “I regret putting you through turmoil, and now you bear the trauma I caused.”
• “I’m sorry I struck you; I had too much to drink.”

Like many women, I grew up hearing phrases such as “forgive and forget” and “holding onto anger is akin to grasping a hot coal.” Initially comforting, these sayings eventually lost their significance. Each act of forgiveness felt less like a healing process and more like a temporary fix over a wound that refused to heal.

Eventually, I reached a point where I found myself unable to forgive. The very words ‘I’m sorry’ would elicit a negative response from me, leaving me puzzled.

They say seek and you shall find; the answers to our questions are often right in front of us. Little did I know that on a particular Wednesday morning, my life would take a transformative turn.

I visited my go-to coffee shop, a space where I often write, read, and reflect. Something about the atmosphere sparked my creativity. On that day, I was fortunate to discover extra coins in my coat, enough for not just my usual chocolate latte, but also a freshly baked muffin.

With my treats in hand, I settled into my usual spot, a cozy corner where the morning sunlight streamed in perfectly. My thoughts swirled like a stormy sea, filled with memories and queries waiting to be articulated.

As I savored the muffin, I wrapped my hands around the warmth of my cup, noticing the heat radiating into my fingers. My gaze wandered to a bookshelf across the room, where a handwritten sign reading “sale” caught my attention.

Like a hawk, I began scanning the titles. One book stood out, its cover worn and edges frayed, showing the signs of many previous readers. The title, “The Art of Self-Forgiveness,” was delicately embossed in faded silver. Intrigued, I found myself drawn to it, almost instinctively.

As I held the book, the café owner, Mrs. Chen, approached with a knowing smile. “That’s a classic,” she remarked in her warm, husky voice. “Seems like you’ve chosen each other.”

I nodded, turning the book over in my hands. “The title resonates with me,” I admitted, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable.

Mrs. Chen leaned in, her eyes softening. “We all carry our burdens, dear. Sometimes the hardest part is learning to forgive ourselves for holding onto them.”

Her words struck a chord deep within me, awakening something that had long been buried. “But I… I don’t know how to…,” I whispered, almost to myself.

She chuckled gently and took my hand with tenderness. “It’s alright; trust the process.”

Looking down at the book, I felt a sense of connection with its weathered exterior, mirroring my own journey—worn yet resilient. Mrs. Chen continued, “Often, we are our own harshest critics, but the first step toward healing is learning to forgive ourselves.”

“I must read this book,” I declared, my voice unexpectedly firm. As I rummaged through my pockets, Mrs. Chen patted my hand. “Take it, dear. Consider it a gift from me to you.”

Returning to my seat with the book in hand, a sense of tranquility began to wash over me. The realization that the forgiveness I sought most was for myself felt like a revelation.

I began reading, each page whispering a message I desperately needed, providing reassurance and validation. Between paragraphs, I oscillated between anger, sadness, joy, and laughter. The personal stories within comforted me; I wasn’t alone in my struggles. There was peace in that acknowledgment.

In the first few days, I realized I had been nursing silent resentment—not towards those who had wronged me, but towards myself. I had internalized every betrayal, viewing it as a failure to choose better companions, to foresee deceit, and to recognize warning signs. This self-blame morphed into an invisible wound that no amount of external forgiveness could mend.

I understood I needed to confront this head-on, akin to David facing Goliath.

Each night, I began journaling as suggested by the book. I detailed every trauma, laying bare my vulnerabilities and honesty. My conscious mind had to confront what lay hidden in my unconscious. I poured my heart out onto the pages.

Through writing, I learned to recognize my own worth and realized that others’ actions reflected their character, not mine. It became clear that self-forgiveness was not about diminishing my pain, but about liberating myself from the bonds of self-blame and regret.

I am not in a place where forgiveness comes easily, and I might not be for a while. And that’s perfectly fine.

If you’re not ready to forgive those who have hurt you, that’s completely valid.

In my past, forgiveness often meant endless second chances, leading to the suppression of my feelings, silencing my voice, and neglecting my needs. I suspect there’s a lot of misleading information surrounding forgiveness, often keeping us silent and compliant, hindering our ability to set boundaries and assert ourselves.

I believe many of us never truly achieve forgiveness in the conventional sense.

Consider your most painful memory. Have you truly forgiven the person responsible? Most might respond affirmatively to evade the burden of resentment or due to fears of spiritual repercussions. However, ‘faking it till you make it’ rarely serves us in this realm. Genuine healing through forgiveness must be approached correctly.

In this phase of my life, I’m deeply committed to understanding forgiveness, particularly self-forgiveness. After all, I can’t offer what I don’t possess.

I’m still grappling with forgiving my abusive ex and how he altered the trajectory of my life. However, I have reached a point where I no longer harbor anger towards him. But does that equate to forgiveness? I think not. It signifies that I have moved beyond the need to forgive him and am now focusing on forgiving myself, and that is a beautiful beginning.

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The video titled "So Sorry." delves into the nuances of apologies and the complexities of forgiving others while emphasizing the importance of self-acceptance on the path to healing.