Forgiveness for the Flawed

“Forgiveness for the Flawed: AKA Parents, Exes, and That One Cousin Who Still Owes You $20”

Let’s be honest: life doesn’t exactly hand us a manual. We’re all just trying to figure it out — stumbling through jobs, relationships, self-worth, and dinner plans like it’s a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book written by a slightly tipsy philosopher.

And somewhere in the chaos, we collect a few people along the way who could’ve done better.  Parents who didn’t show up the way we needed. Exes who left us more emotionally unpacked than a suitcase three months after vacation. Friends who ghosted, betrayed, or just straight-up dropped the ball.

Here’s the kicker: they may have done the best they could with what they had. (Annoying, I know. Let’s talk about it.)

The “Best They Could” Clause (That Still Hurt Like Hell)

Here’s the weird thing about healing: sometimes it requires us to forgive people not because they apologized (and they might never), but because we deserve the peace that comes from letting go.

Maybe your mom never knew how to express love unless it was through casserole and mild guilt trips. Maybe your dad never learned how to say “I’m proud of you” without using a grunt and a nod at a lawnmower. Maybe your ex was emotionally stunted but charming as hell, and you confused their chaos for passion.

They may not have had the tools. But guess what? You do now.  It’s growth. It means you get to choose differently, love better, and break the cycles they never could.

Forgiveness Isn’t Saying “It’s Fine”

Let’s be crystal clear: forgiving someone doesn’t mean you’re excusing the behavior. It doesn’t mean you’re inviting them back into your life, asking for a round two of emotional dodgeball.

Forgiveness is saying:

• “It hurt.”

• “You could have done better.”

• “And I’m choosing not to carry the weight of it anymore.”

It’s less “let’s be friends again” and more “I’m setting this baggage down because my arms are tired and I need them for better things—like wine and self-love.” So no, this isn’t about pretending it didn’t matter. It mattered. It shaped you. But it doesn’t get to define you anymore.

You're not required to carry what broke you just to prove it happened.

Let it go, not because they deserve it—but because you do.

What story or pain are you still carrying like proof of survival? Write it down.Honor it.Then ask yourself:Is this still serving me, or is it simply familiar? You don’t have to carry what broke you just to prove it happened.

The Funny Side of Forgiveness

Sometimes the only way to survive the healing process is to laugh, so we don’t ugly cry in the produce aisle again.

Like that time your ex said “I just need space to work on myself,” and then immediately started dating someone who looked like you with a ring light filter.

Or when your parent gave you the talk using outdated metaphors and a VHS tape from 1989, and now you need therapy AND a time machine.

Forgiveness doesn’t erase the cringe—it just lets you keep the memory without letting it own you.

You’re Not Here to Be Perfect Either

You've probably hurt people, too.

You’ve made decisions from fear. Reacted instead of responded. Slammed a door or said something passive-aggressive that could’ve been a TED Talk (https://www.ted.com/talks) titled “I’m Fine: A Masterclass in Lying Poorly.”

We all mess up. And we’re all just trying to figure it out with the emotional maturity of a teenager who finally found the light switch.

So maybe it’s time we extend some grace, not just to others, but to the version of ourselves we were when we didn’t know any better.

Final Thought: Letting Go, Not Letting In

Forgiveness isn’t about letting people off the hook. It’s about allowing yourself off theirs.

It’s reclaiming your peace. Your joy. Your bandwidth. It’s saying: I’m not carrying this into my next chapter. I’ve got stories to write and healing to do.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s about remembering that no one got a manual. We’re all improving our way through this human experience.

So forgive when you’re ready. Not when someone pressures you.Not when they suddenly want closure after ghosting you for a year.Not because it’s “the high road.”Do it when your soul feels safe enough to release, not suppress. (https://www.verywellmind.com/anger-management-strategies-4178870

Laugh when you can. Even if it’s through tears. Even if the humor feels a little dark and twisted — that’s fine. Healing isn’t always sunshine and yoga. Sometimes it’s sarcasm, snacks, and unhinged group texts.

Cry when you need to. Because bottling it up doesn’t make you strong — it makes you full. And eventually, full breaks. So let it out. Tears are just the truth that got too heavy to carry silently.

And then… keep becoming. Keep evolving. Keep waking up and choosing to be a version of you that doesn’t wait around for permission to feel joy, peace, freedom, or release.

Because of that version? You know your past shaped you, but it doesn’t get to own you. You pack the lesson, not the bitterness. You walk away, not because you are cold, but because you are finally warm enough within yourself to stop chasing fires that only ever burned you.

You’ve got better places to be — mentally, emotionally, spiritually. And this time, you’re not showing up small. You're showing up whole.

Becky Shaffer

www.liveinconfidence.com