Why You Can’t Forgive Yourself (Even After They Forgave You)

You know those times when a memory just popped into your head out of nowhere? You might be lying in bed, taking a shower, or riding the bus with your headphone on when suddenly, a memory popped up. It’s fully formed as if it’s always been there, and you can’t help but react. It feels kind of silly because that whole situation has been behind you for ages.

It was something that you did before that you regret to this day. Something that have hurt another individual. Here’s the thing, you’ve actually apologized. Genuinely, not just a half-hearted excuse.

You spoke to the person you hurt and didn’t try to dodge it or justify it. To your surprise, they were pretty cool about it, even more than you expected. They just said, it’s okay, it’s over, we’re good. And you can tell they really meant it.

That’s the part you keep going back to. They meant it. You left that conversation feeling way lighter, like a huge weight just lifted, almost like 40 pounds has suddenly just disappeared. But that feeling didn’t last long.

A week went by, and then the memory just started coming back in, popping up whenever they want. It’s been 3 days, 2 months, 6 years, longer than you’d like to admit. The person you’ve apologized to, they moved on, but somehow you didn’t. So, if there’s something from your past that everyone else has moved on but you’re still holding on to, especially if the person you hurt has forgiven you but you still feel stuck, and you know exactly what you tell a friend in the same situation, but those words just won’t come out when it’s you, then this episode is for you.

Welcome to Self Full, the show where we get honest about the things we’re still doing to ourselves longer after everyone else has moved on. My name is Wilson. I’m not a therapist and I definitely don’t have everything figured out. I’m just someone who’s been forgiven for things truly out loud by the person I wronged, and even after that, I still couldn’t forgive myself.

And this is what we’re talking about today, Self-Forgiveness. It might sound like a gentle topic, but it is actually quite real. It’s not just about some general idea. It’s about that one thing you did that really affected someone, and even years after, you’re still carrying it.

But let me say this up front. If someone forgave you and you had a hard time accepting it, that’s not you being dramatic or trying to get them to repeat it. It just means guilt is still working on you. And as long as that guilt is still there, it’s not going to go away just because you wanted to.

So today we’re going to cover three things. First, what that job actually is and why it never had an end date. Second, how to tell the difference between two similar feelings of being stuck when only one ever truly ends. And third, what to do with the forgiveness you were given years ago but you never took up.

And I’m not going to tell you to just be kinder to yourself. I mean, I’ve been told that a lot, but it’s as helpful as being told to just grow taller, you know what I mean? So if you’re tired of hesitating over something everyone else moved on from years ago and just want to finally finish it, then stick around. This is where the thing you’ve been quietly struggling with finally gets a clear end.

So let’s take a moment to get specific about who this message is meant for. This is for someone who’s made a genuine mistake, not some minor misunderstanding or something you’ve blown out of proportion that no one else noticed. You did something that had an impact on someone else, and that person felt it. This is also for someone who had already taken the hard step of owning up to it.

You confronted it head-on, either by talking to them directly or by writing it down and sending it off, and they responded by saying it was okay. In short, this is for all of us. This is something that everyone has been through and will experience more in the future. So here’s what I discovered when I looked into this topic.

Most of what’s out there about forgiveness focuses on the person who got hurt, How to forgive someone who wronged you and how to move on from that hurt. There’s a ton of advice on that everywhere. But there’s hardly anything available for the other side. The person who made the mistake, apologized, got forgiven, and is still dealing with those feelings years later.

It’s almost like nobody talked about what you’re supposed to do in that situation, which likely led you to believe that there’s nothing more to it. You made a mistake, and now you have to live with it. That seems fair, right? But honestly, I don’t think that’s fair, and I believe there’s more going on beneath the surface.

Because no one ever mentioned a specific timeline. Nobody told you how long this lingering feeling should last, which leads us to the first point.

Point 1: Why You Haven’t Let Yourself Out

Everyone talks about guilt as if it’s just something that hangs around afterwards, like a leftover mess from an event that eventually fades away, kind of like a bruise. If it doesn’t fade, people think it’s either a really big bruise or that there’s something off with how you’re healing. But I see guilt differently. I think guilt actually has a purpose.

And purposes don’t just disappear, they last as long as needed. So what’s the purpose of guilt? I think guilt serves as a proof that you’re not the kind of person who would do something terrible. It’s not a proof for others to see it, I mean they generally don’t need it, but rather it’s a proof for yourself.

Imagine waking up one day and the guilt is completely gone. You think back to that event and there’s nothing there. What would that mean? It could mean that you’re someone who did something wrong and just moved on, feeling completely fine about it.

That’s likely the person you’re worried you might be. Feeling guilty isn’t the issue. It’s your way of fighting against that idea. Every time that guilt comes back and hurt, it’s actually reaffirming something you deeply need to believe, that you still care.

It’s not that you haven’t been through enough pain. It’s more that the pain is all you have to show that you truly cared. Once you realize that, it makes sense why there’s no set timeline for it. Think about it.

If you decided guilt was only valid for, say, two years, then once those two years were up, you’d have to let it go. That would imply that what you felt was only worth that time frame, and you had to accept that you were someone who did that and then moved on. But that’s exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. So the timeline never gets established, not because you’re being dramatic or handling things poorly, but because having a definite end makes it feel like you’re escaping accountability.

And that’s how you find yourself stuck for years in something that someone else seems to move on already. You’re carrying a weight that no one else can see, not even the person it’s supposed to be for. So how do you confront something that has stopped feeling like a feeling and has turned into a fact about who you are? Here’s a helpful tool for dealing with guilt.

When that feeling creeps in again, because it will, don’t argue with it or try to push it aside. Instead, ask yourself one simple question: “What would it mean about me if I stopped feeling this way?” That’s the key. Answering it honestly.

I would encourage you to say this out loud if you’re alone. Saying it out loud makes it harder to ignore. And what you’ll often find is that the answer is more about you than the situation or other people. For example, you might realize, if I stop feeling guilty about this, it means I’m just someone who let things slide.

Or the simplest one, which really struck me, if I stop feeling bad, then I have nothing left that shows I’m sorry. And here’s why this question works better than just replaying the event over and over in your mind. You can’t let go of a feeling if it’s the only thing keeping something intact. If guilt is your only proof of caring, it makes sense to hold on to it.

But when you realize what that guilt is really doing, it changes from being part of your identity to just a task you need to handle differently. One rule to remember, ask that one question and then stop there. If you find yourself drifting back into the details of what happened, that’s a different conversation for another time. This tool isn’t about the event itself, it’s about understanding the feeling and what you’re unknowingly letting it do for you.

Let’s look at that scenario. Let’s say you’re in the lecture hall, just 10 minutes before class starts. It’s half full and everyone’s glued to their phones. You spot someone a couple of rows ahead, someone you were close to in the first year but you haven’t really talked since March.

Because a while back, you made a comment about her in a group just to get a laugh. And of course, it got back to her. You apologized to her two months ago after crafting a message you revised multiple times. She responded almost immediately, saying she knew you didn’t mean anything by it, and that she was ready to move on.

From the outside, it seems like you both moved on. You wave at her, and she waves back, and everything looks fine. But there you are, sitting a few rows behind her, and the same guilt starts to bubble up within you again. But this time, instead of drowning in that guilt, you ask yourself that question, What would it mean about me if I stopped feeling this way?

And then you realize the answer comes rushing back, probably something you’ve been holding onto for a while. And it says, “if I stop feeling guilty, it means I’m just someone who makes jokes about my friend without considering how they would feel.” And then class starts, and while nothing is resolved, you notice something interesting. Instead of fixating on her, you’re now focused on yourself, and that little shift, even if it’s small, it makes a big difference.

And I wish I knew how to ask that question earlier. I remember when I was about 15 or 16, it was during my sophomore year of high school. There was a classmate I didn’t have any issues with, but for a while we got into a disagreement about something, and I honestly can’t even remember what it was about now. One day, in a moment of heated frustration, I blurted out a really harsh comment that I had been holding onto for about a week.

It just slipped out, and as soon as I saw the look on his face, I instantly regretted saying it, because it was super personal and way out of line. He turned away and sat back down, looking completely blank, while a few classmates around us were just in disbelief of what I just said. And that moment stuck with me, and I couldn’t shake the shame of it. Eventually, I did apologize a week later, and he was really gracious.

He said something like, Hey, we’re good. Forget about it. And I could tell he meant it. He was just better at letting things go than I was.

He was just the better person. Then that summer, my family moved to a different city, and I never saw him again. I have no idea where he is now, and I know nobody now who has any connection with him. I’m probably the only one left who remembers that day.

But that particular incident, that particular shame, I carried it with me. I’ve carried it for maybe around 6 years or so. It will pop back into my head out of the blue when I was doing nothing. And it will turn a perfectly good day into another 15 to 30 minutes of self -spiraling down that shame.

But here’s the thing that took me a long time to figure out. All that guilt I was carrying around didn’t affect him at all. He was long gone in my life. So it wasn’t about protecting a friendship or keeping me cautious around him because there was no relationship left.

When I finally asked myself what it would mean if I let go of that guilt, I didn’t like the answer: “If I stopped feeling bad, it would mean I was the type of person who is willing and capable of hurting people on such a personal level.” That’s where the guilt came in. It wasn’t just a leftover feeling. It had a job to do.

It was there to prove I wasn’t that type of person. And that’s why it was so hard to let go. The moment I stopped feeling guilty would be the moment I lose that proof. But realizing this doesn’t make it easier to move on.

We all revisit our past mistakes from time to time. The tricky part is that revisiting those moments can look like two entirely different things, and only one actually leads to progress, which leads us to the next point.

Point 2: Two Ways to Feel Bad, and Only One of Them Ends

So, you go back over it. That’s not the problem. Going back over something you did to a person isn’t a malfunction. It’s what somebody with a conscience does.

But watch what actually happens while you’re mentally revisiting your previous mistakes, because there are two separate activities in there. And they are very hard to tell apart. In one version, you are reflecting on what you did, how it affected the other person, and what you wanted to achieve that day, realizing how far off you were. That thought stings.

It feels painful. But eventually, that feeling fades away. Each time it comes back, it doesn’t linger as long. In the other version, you are stuck in a loop, constantly reminding yourself that you are a bad person.

That one hurts a lot too, but it never really goes away. You can always dig up another mistake, even one from years ago, and it just keeps piling on. From the outside, both versions look the same. You’re lying in bed alone, ruminating in the dark over the same incident, same face, same night, but inside, they couldn’t be more different.

One is about reflecting on your actions, while the other one is just about beating yourself up over who you are, and only one of those feelings actually fades over time. Here’s where it gets tricky. The self-loathing one often feels more virtuous, like you’re really grappling with the seriousness of what you did. It can feel responsible, almost noble, to dwell on it.

Deep down, there’s a part of you that thinks, at least I’m not one of those people who messes up and never thinks about it. At least I’m not heartless. But look at the outcome of that mindset. It gets you nowhere.

In fact, it guarantees you won’t learn anything because you’re not focusing on the event itself. This mindset only focuses on your identity. See, that kind of thinking can take over your entire evening, leaving no space for any real understanding of what actually happened. So how do you tell which version you’re in when they seem almost identical from the inside?

And here’s the second tool: Sort the guilt from the sadness. When you find yourself replaying an old situation in your mind, take a moment to pause and really check in with yourself. Don’t just focus on your thoughts. Pay attention to what you’re genuinely feeling inside.

Typically, there are four types of feelings that can bubble up, all of which carry a similar weight. There’s shame, there’s self-disgust, there’s anger directed at yourself, and that heavy, empty feeling that isn’t quite sadness but is certainly not okay either. But if you’re feeling any of those four, that means you’re stuck in a kind of inner punishment. On the flip side, there’s one feeling that tells a different story.

Sadness. Not the kind of sadness that’s tied to your personality, but more about the situation itself. If any of those four feelings arise, don’t bother trying to push them away. Trust me, that never works.

Instead, ask yourself one simple question that can shift your perspective: “What did I truly want to be or do that day? And how did I end up acting instead?” This question isn’t about judging your character. It’s about identifying a deeper desire.

For example, you might realize, I wanted to be the person that people would not take advantage of. I wanted to feel safe. As soon as you connect with that desire, the heavy feeling underneath starts to change into something else. It changes to a particular kind of sadness, which is really where you want to land.

And here’s why those four feelings earlier we talked about, the shame, the self-loathing, the self-directed anger, the emptiness, can feel so heavy. Each of them makes a claim about your identity, and those labels aren’t helpful. They just stick to you like a burden. But sadness, however, is different.

It reveals what you truly desired, and desires are alive. They can guide you to make changes moving forward. Sadness proves that you have remorse without the self-blaming labels. Now, I know you might be thinking, and I’ve wrestled with this one too, isn’t this just about picking a nicer feeling for yourself?

And the answer is no. In the moment, sadness can feel way worse actually. That’s why most people shy away from it. The other four feelings are more comfortable in a way, because they are familiar and people tend to stick with what they know.

But with sadness, you’re actually confronting the reality of how you affected someone who was right in front of you. That’s not exactly easy. So here’s the bottom line of this tool. You know you’re done with this process when you hit that sadness.

The goal isn’t to find a pleasant feeling or to feel better. It’s about getting to the point where you can feel the sadness, which brings closure to the experience. Let me show you an example. Picture you’re sitting at your desk at about 6:15.

The lights on the far side of the floor have gone off, and it’s you and the other person you can hear typing somewhere. There was a project last spring that went wrong because of something you missed. And a guy on your team, let’s call him Dan, took the hit for it in a meeting with your manager and never once pointed at you for the mistake. And you told him afterward that you knew.

And he just struck and said he would have done the same. And he genuinely didn’t want to talk about it again. And that was 14 months ago, and yet you still can’t quite be normal around Dan. So you’re sitting there, not going home yet, and then you run the check.

And what’s there isn’t sadness. You realize it’s disgust, self-disgust. So you ask the question, what did I want to be that day? And what did I do instead?

And it took a minute, because your first three answers are still about what you are. But you get there. You realize, I wanted to be somebody whose team doesn’t have to cover for it. And I let somebody stand there and take it.

That self-disgust It just turns into sadness. And yeah, it doesn’t feel great. But you realize this is the first time in 14 months that thinking about this incident is not pointing at self-disgust, self-loathing, self-blame anymore. It’s pointing at something that is truly sitting within you.

Something that you can do about in the future. Now, most of you listening right now might be confused, and I’ve been in the same place for a long time. So what if I can find out what it would mean if I stopped feeling this way? And finding out what you’re truly sad about?

How does any of this help? You know exactly what you wanted to become. You want to forgive yourself. You now understand why you couldn’t before, and how to stop turning it into self-judgment, but you still carry that guilt.

In the two tools we discussed earlier, yeah, sure, they can identify the problem, but they don’t resolve any of it, because there is one thing you never did, and you were handed it a long time ago, which leads us to the final point.

Point 3: What They Already Told You

So let me answer your question because it’s a good one and deserve a clear response. You did everything right, you recognized the part of you that had been affected, and you let yourself feel the sadness. That’s actually super important because it’s a moment where outside influence can actually reach you. And then nothing changed.

But it doesn’t mean you messed up with the first two steps. They work as they should. And there is one more thing that needs to happen here. And honestly, it’s not on you.

And to tell you what it is, I have to say something about this whole situation that took me an absurd amount of time to notice. You are not the injured party here. You are not the person who got hurt here. Let me say that again because it didn’t click for me for years.

You are not the injured party here. Someone else experienced the hurt, and that someone is not you. This means something important. How long this lasts isn’t your call.

You don’t have the authority here. The person who actually endured this, the person that you wronged, is the only one who really has a say. And that person already answered this question maybe years ago. They already said, it’s done, we’re fine, so don’t worry about it.

And you were there when they said it to your face, but then you filed it away as a fact about them. You thought to yourself, wow, they’re a generous person. They didn’t want it to be awkward. That’s just their nature.

I mean, both of those thoughts might be true, but what you didn’t do was consider that as a fact about the situation itself. And I want to be careful from here because the next point might sound like I’m blaming you, but trust me, I’m not. When you tell yourself that their forgiveness doesn’t settle things, you’ve unintentionally put yourself in a position of authority. The person who got hurt had said it’s over, and then you said, no, I’ll decide when it’s really over.

You didn’t do this out of arrogance, of course, but you did it because you felt you didn’t deserve that forgiveness. So you’ve kept it at arm’s length. But think about it from another angle. The person that you were wronged, yeah, they were hurt.

And this whole situation has been somehow morphed into a narrative focused on your character, a struggle you’ve been handling alone for years with them completely absent from it. So what do you do with something that was given to you years ago that you never picked up? And here’s the third tool: Use their words, not your own. Go back and grab their actual words instead of just summarizing what they said.

What did they really say? Try to get as close to their original wording as you can. If you have a message from them, take a moment to read it again. A lot of us have those messages stored away and never revisit them.

When that memory pops up at 2 in the morning, respond with their words. Say it out loud, especially if you’re by yourself. And when you do, a couple of common pushback might come up with this, and I’ve fallen into both traps myself. First, some people might say they never actually said it, not in so many words.

In that case, focus on what they did communicate. If they’ve been texting you for years and never brought it up, that speaks volumes. Behavior often tells a clearer story than words, because nobody keeps things normal for 6 years just out of politeness. And the second pushback is trickier, and I’ve struggled with it for years too.

It goes like this: “They said it, but they were just being nice. They didn’t really mean it.” And I want to be gentle here, but also clear. That kind of thinking is actually the same issue.

You are assuming you know better than the person who went through it about their own experience. You’re just making it sound nicer by telling yourself that they’re just being nice. But notice when that objection shows up. It usually comes up when you’re feeling disgust.

Instead, try to lean into the sadness first. And then read what they actually wrote, or remember what they actually said word for word. You’ll find those words hits differently when you’re in that mindset. And no, you don’t have to believe it.

That’s not your job. Your job is to make sure your own voice isn’t the only one speaking. Use their words without arguing with them, and let both perspectives exist together. Before I explain further, let me give you a scenario.

So picture your parents’ kitchen at Christmas. It’s loud and packed with too many people. Right by the door, there’s a picture that’s been on the wall since you were a kid. It’s your grandmother.

And she was sick for the last 8 months of her life. You were 22 and only visited her twice. You had your reasons for not being there more often. And some of them were even valid.

But if you were being honest, the real reason was that you just couldn’t stand to see her like that. And you never apologized about it because how could you? And she never forgave you because you never asked for forgiveness. And now you’re standing in the doorway feeling that familiar wave of regret that hits you every Christmas.

You don’t have any words from her, no message, no conversation to hold on to. But you do have something. Every single time you did show up during those eight months and in all the 22 years before, she was genuinely happy to see you. You can still hear the way she said your name, and how she excitedly told your mom you’d come to visit like it was the best news ever.

So now, you linger by that photograph a moment longer than you meant to, and then you go help up with other stuff in the kitchen. That’s not all wrapped up nicely, but it’s the first time you stood in front of that picture having something else other than sadness and regret. So why does this new approach actually work when nothing else you’ve told yourself has? Because there are two main issues with how you’ve been thinking about it.

First, you know this already. You’ve been focusing on the event itself. And it happened a long time ago. It really wasn’t that bad.

And honestly, everyone makes mistakes like that. The event isn’t what’s still bothering you. The second issue is about who’s doing the talking. You’re the one who did this.

Anything you say about this is coming from the person who really wants to move on. And think about this. Guilt has been your only proof of what kind of person you are. Their words gave you a second piece of proof.

Those words are the only evidence here that didn’t come from you. In other In other words, you took their forgiveness as a second layer of proof that you were a bad person, so you’ve never focused on the fact that they actually have forgiven you. And I mentioned earlier that I’ve been forgiven for my mistake, but letting go of them has been tough, and here’s the one that took me years to work through. I once had a friend, one of those rare people I call without second thought, and I remember he was having an incredibly tough year, and then he invited me to something that really mattered to him.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and it’s about 40 minutes driving away from where I used to live. I said, yeah, of course I’ll be there, but on the day of the event, I ended up not going. And I wish I could say it was a difficult decision, but really, I just felt tired and didn’t want to make the effort. I shot him a message 90 minutes before, saying something had come up, which was totally a lie.

I spent the next 6 hours just playing video games in my apartment. And a week later, he called me. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry. He figured out that I probably just couldn’t face it, and he didn’t want to dwell on it.

He told me he’d rather have my presence than an apology, and I’ve never doubted that he meant it. But for the next few years, I couldn’t shake the memory of that Saturday. And here, I want to walk you through my thought process during that time, step-by-step, because that’s how it really unfolded for me. The first realization hit me in just a few seconds.

I realized that if I stopped feeling guilty about that Saturday, it would mean I was someone who doesn’t show up for my friends. That idea was the bottom line of my struggle. I’ve spent years focusing on that one issue. The second realization took me months to unpack.

Every time I checked with my feelings, I felt nothing but self-disgust. I thought I was upset about letting him down, but deep down, I was disappointed in myself for being that kind of friend. But then I turned the question around. What did I want to be that day?

Eventually, the answer, when I really dug deep, was surprisingly simple. I wanted to be the kind of person who shows up for others, even when it costs me something. When that realization hit, it made me sad instead of disgust, and I found that sadness feels shorter each time. But still, I was stuck in the same loop.

I worked through both of those thoughts for a month, and none of it set me free. And the third realization? I had never bothered to read his follow-up message. It’s been years, and I’ve never reconsidered it.

I knew it was there. He called and told me personally, but I just didn’t want to listen. But when I finally did, that one line he said to me, he said he’d rather have my presence than an apology. He still values me as a friend.

And that day when I realized it, I must have replayed that line in my head about like 20 times. And each time I replayed it, I was able to slowly and slowly starting to forgive my own self for just a little, because I started to use his own words instead of using my own. Here’s the kicker. I’m not promising you a neat resolution.

Replaying that message in my head didn’t fix everything immediately. I got a little teary, but within a couple of days, I was back into my old thoughts. I mean, years of habit don’t just vanish because you’ve replayed something that feels uplifting. What did change is that I finally have something to say back.

For about 4 months, whenever those feelings resurface, I repeat his line in my head instead of my usual script. I would even repeat it out loud if I was alone. And just to be honest about the outcome, I’m not trying to sell you a quick fix here, those type of feelings can still pop up. It did for me.

But now it’s more like twice a year instead of twice a week. And when they do come, yeah, the sadness can still appear, but it’s not as heavy as before. But when it does appear, I was able to use his own line. And now I believe 100% instead of turning that as a case against myself.

I’ve never shared any of this with him. And honestly, I don’t think I will. That would just shift the burden back to him. And I don’t want to do that.

You know what I mean? So that’s the third tool, and it ties everything together. So here’s a quick recap on everything. The thing that you did to another person and that they have forgiven you for a long time ago, but you never really forgiven yourself, what you did can’t always come back to you.

It’s just how it goes. So first, figure out what that guilt is all about. Ask yourself one simple question. What would it say about me if I stopped feeling guilty about this?

The answer you get will be a sentence about you, and that’s what you’ll work on. Next, separate your guilt from your sadness, because you’re going to need to let something good in, and it’s hard to do that when you’re feeling shame, disgust, or anger towards yourself. If you’re feeling heavy and numb, it’s a sign that you’re punishing yourself. So, ask yourself what you wanted to be that day and what you actually did instead.

Sit with those feelings until it turns into a sadness instead of self-loathing, instead of self-blame, After that, respond to the sentence about you using their words, not focusing on the memory or the event itself, but on what it says about the kind of person you are. The guilt has been your only proof of your worth, but now you have their words as a second perspective. At first, it might feel like nothing changed. You’ll repeat their words out loud, and they might sound a bit flimsy, while your inner voice will keep bringing up everything you did wrong.

But don’t worry, that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It takes time to break years of habit. The first thing that changes isn’t how you feel. It’s that you’ll start to hear two voices now instead of just one.

One of those voices belonged to the only person who ever had a say in this. And if you take away anything from today, remember this, use their words. The first two steps help you figure out what to answer and how to get into space where that answer can truly resonate. Use their words is the key.

And sooner or later, that memory will pop back into your head, maybe while in the shower or on the bus. And I want to be real with you about what happened next. That memory won’t just disappear. Honestly, I don’t think it ever fully goes away.

But remember one thing, nobody is keeping you stuck in that moment besides yourself. I mean, it might sound like good news, but this is actually the challenging part. Because if someone else was holding you there, you could direct your anger at them, and there would be something to push against. But there’s nothing like that here.

It’s kind of like, imagine you’re in a jail cell, and the person that told you that they have forgiven you opened the cell door from the outside, and they told you that you’re free to go. You probably told them thank you at the time, but you chose to remain in that jail cell. But the thing is, you’ve served your time. There’s no official sentence, so no one is going to tell you when it’s done.

That time was always yours to navigate. And it’s okay to let yourself out, because the person that you’ve hurt initially has opened that cell door. If someone crept into your mind while you were listening to this, send this to someone you know who’s still dealing with something everyone else has moved on from. And trust me, there are more of us out there than you realize.

And there’s something you’d like to share about this. Feel free to reach out to me on Instagram at Self Full Podcast (@selffullpodcast), or leave it in a comment on whatever platform you’re listening to this podcast on. You’ve been forgiven for a long time by now, and the only thing left is for you to recognize that. So take a moment to use their own words to help you slowly step away from the jail cell that you put yourself in.

And remember, I’m always here for you. Take care.