Forgiveness

Bitterness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to suffer.

Dear lovelies,

In the month of September, I posted a simple birthday wish to one of my aunts. It was nothing dramatic, just a “Happy Birthday, wishing you joy and peace today.” But later that day, my mum left a comment that stopped me in my tracks. She thanked me for forgiving.

Her words caught me off guard because she was right. For months, I had been carrying anger and hurt so quietly that I didn’t even realise how heavy it had become.

There was a time I thought holding on to anger made me strong. I told myself, “If I let this go, they’ll think what they did was okay.” So I held my pain like armour, thinking it was protecting me. But slowly, I realised I wasn’t protecting myself, I was trapping myself.

Bitterness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to suffer.

Forgiveness for me didn’t happen all at once. It didn’t come with warm feelings or an emotional rush. It came in small choices, choosing not to replay the story in my head for the hundredth time, choosing not to speak about the hurt every time their name came up, choosing to ask God to soften my heart even when I didn’t feel like it.

Colossians 3:13 says, “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Those words used to feel heavy to me, almost unfair. But I’ve come to see them as an invitation, not a burden. God isn’t asking us to pretend nothing happened; He’s offering us a way to live free from the weight of it.

The day I truly forgave, I didn’t even realise it at first. It was in little moments like posting that birthday message without hesitation. It was in the peace I felt afterwards, the quiet knowing that the hurt no longer had power over me.

Lovely, maybe you are carrying something right now that feels too big to forgive. Maybe you have said, “I will never let that go.” And I understand. Some wounds cut deep. Some betrayals still sting even years later.

But here’s what I want to gently remind you: forgiveness is not about excusing what happened. It’s about setting yourself free.

Take it slow if you must. Begin with a whisper: “God, help me forgive.” That prayer might be the first crack in the wall around your heart. And little by little, He will do the work of softening what has been hardened by pain.

One day, without even realising it, you may find yourself smiling when you see their name. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because you’re free now.

And that, my lovely, is the quiet miracle of forgiveness; it restores you first.

With compassion,
Temi Olu