Each end of the year has its lights, its rituals, its full tables. But, between one decoration and another, there is always a space that no one comments on. It is the space of stored pain. Sorrows that remained stuck in our chest, conversations that never happened, names we avoided saying. Sometimes what weighs is not what we experience, but what we continue to carry. There are stories that are closed on the outside, but which remain open on the inside.
Talking about forgiveness right now can seem corny. However, when you look closely, forgiveness is not an abstract or overly spiritualized gesture. He moves his whole body. Science shows that resentment keeps the body on alert, as if we are always ready for an attack that never comes. The heart accelerates, the pressure increases, the muscles contract. The brain activates regions linked to fear and threat. Chronic pain transforms the body into a territory of tension. And no one deserves to live through another year like this, living as if every painful memory is a minefield.
The opposite is also true. Studies show that forgiving reduces stress reactivity. The heart slows down. The breath is released. The mind stops playing the same painful movie over and over again. It’s like someone opened a window inside us and let in new air after years of breathing in a closed room. It is not a question of forgetting, and even less of approving, what happened. It’s about not allowing the hurt to continue to define who we are. To prevent the past from taking root where it should no longer live.
Forgiving takes courage. And there are many types of courage. There is decisional forgiveness, when you choose not to take revenge, not to perpetuate the cycle. It’s a rational decision. But there is an emotional forgiveness, much deeper, when anger loses ground, when the heart stops hardening just to survive. It is this second type that transforms lives. It releases energy, opens a space of hope, restores lightness to those who were too heavy. It’s like adjusting an internal rhythm that was off.
Grief, when it matures, turns into rumination. The head repeats the same scene countless times, repeats imaginary dialogues, relives old pains, always with the result that we would have liked to say, do or hear. Science calls this rumination. Everyone has already done it. But few people realize how consuming this habit is. When we work on forgiveness, rumination decreases. The mind finally rests. It is as if the heart could return to its natural axis, less accelerated, less vigilant, less tired of watching over old wounds.
And perhaps the most beautiful aspect of forgiveness is what psychologists call rehumanization. After a great offense, the other becomes a villain. And we became victims. But forgiveness brings nuances back to the world. It gives depth to what seemed flat. It allows us to see the humanity that exists even in those who have hurt us. And it gives us back the ability to not be defined by a single chapter of life. It’s not about getting back together. It’s about not letting the past dictate who we are in the present.
December arrives to remind us that no year is synonymous with success or failure. Each year is also full of scars. And some of them would have already stopped bleeding. So this is an invitation. Look at your invisible list of names that still hurt. Maybe there’s a conversation to start again. Perhaps there is a silence that must be accepted. Perhaps the person you need to forgive the most is yourself.
Forgiving does not change what has been experienced. But it changes the weight with which you go through what happens. It is a form of care that acts silently, but transforms everything around it. By choosing to forgive, you give your body a chance to rest, your mind a chance to breathe, and life a chance to move forward with less internal resistance. After all, it’s a gift we give ourselves.
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