How to forgive someone who hurt you deeply

You might be tempted to skip this part. ‘Just move on,’ you tell yourself. But here’s the truth: you can’t heal what you won’t acknowledge. That knot in your stomach? The way your hands shake when you think about what they did? It’s not weakness. It’s your heart asking to be heard. Grab a notebook and write it all down—the ugly, the painful, the parts you’re ashamed to admit. ‘They made me feel worthless.’ ‘I trusted them, and they threw it away.’ No filters. No judgment. Let it pour out. The first time I did this, I filled three pages with tears and rage. It didn’t fix everything, but it was the first time I felt like I wasn’t drowning in the hurt anymore. That’s the power of facing it.

This is where things get confusing. Forgiveness doesn’t mean what they did was okay. It doesn’t mean you have to invite them back into your life or even speak to them again. It’s not a gift for them—it’s a gift for you. Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to get sick. You’re the one who loses sleep. You’re the one who replays the hurt over and over. Forgiving is about choosing to stop letting their actions control your present. It’s saying, ‘I refuse to give you this power over me anymore.’ That’s it. You can forgive and still keep them at arm’s length. You can forgive and still know you’re better off without them. It’s not about reconciliation. It’s about reclaiming your peace.

There’s something cathartic about putting all your anger and pain onto paper—especially when you know the other person will never see it. Write the letter you wish you could send. Tell them exactly how they hurt you. Call them out. Scream into the page if you need to. ‘You broke my trust.’ ‘I needed you, and you let me down.’ ‘I hate how small you made me feel.’ Then, when you’re done, burn it. Rip it up. Delete it. Watch the words disappear, and with them, some of the weight you’ve been carrying. The first time I did this, I wrote so furiously my hand cramped. But afterward? I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. It’s not magic, but it’s close.

This step is hard. Really hard. It’s not about excusing what they did or pretending it didn’t matter. It’s about understanding that hurt people hurt people. Maybe they were struggling with their own demons. Maybe they never learned how to love well. Maybe they were just selfish in that moment. That doesn’t make their actions okay, but it does make them human. And realizing that can take some of the sting out of the betrayal. It doesn’t mean you have to trust them again. It doesn’t mean you have to like them. It just means you stop letting their actions define your worth. You’re not the sum of their mistakes. You’re so much more.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to let them back into your life. It doesn’t mean you have to pretend everything’s fine. Boundaries are your way of saying, ‘I forgive you, but I won’t let you hurt me again.’ Maybe that means no contact. Maybe it means limited interactions. Maybe it means being clear about what you will and won’t tolerate. The key? Stick to them. The first time I set a boundary with someone who hurt me, I second-guessed myself a hundred times. ‘Am I being too harsh?’ ‘Should I just let it go?’ But here’s what I learned: boundaries aren’t walls. They’re the lines that keep you safe. And you deserve to feel safe.

The best revenge? Living well. Not for them. For you. When you’re focused on your own growth—your goals, your passions, the people who do lift you up—the hurt starts to fade. It doesn’t disappear overnight, but it stops being the center of your story. Start small. Take a class. Reconnect with an old friend. Pick up a hobby you’ve been putting off. The first time I did this after a betrayal, I signed up for a painting workshop. It was messy and imperfect, but for two hours a week, I wasn’t thinking about the hurt. I was just… happy. And that’s when I realized: healing isn’t about forgetting. It’s about creating a life where the hurt doesn’t get to take up so much space anymore.

There’s no timeline for forgiveness. Some days, you’ll feel lighter. Other days, the hurt will hit you like a wave. That’s normal. Healing isn’t linear. It’s okay if you take two steps forward and one step back. It’s okay if you’re not ‘over it’ yet. What matters is that you keep going. You keep choosing yourself. You keep showing up, even when it’s hard. The first time I forgave someone who hurt me deeply, it took months. And even then, some days, the anger crept back in. But here’s what I learned: forgiveness isn’t a one-time event. It’s a practice. A choice you make over and over, until one day, you realize the weight is gone. And you? You’re finally free.