For years, I let certain memories play on a loop—same scenes, same regrets, same sinking feeling. It didn’t matter if I was in the middle of something good; the past had a way of showing up uninvited, like an old acquaintance who just won’t take the hint.
At first, I thought revisiting those moments would somehow fix them. If I just replayed them enough, maybe I’d finally make sense of everything. Maybe I’d find a way to undo what couldn’t be undone. But all it did was keep me stuck.
Shame is a terrible tour guide. It drags you through the worst parts of your past and calls it a necessary lesson. But let’s be honest—how many times does a lesson really need to be learned before it stops feeling like punishment?
Forgiveness isn’t some grand, sweeping gesture. It’s just deciding that the past doesn’t get to hijack the present. It’s saying, “Yeah, that happened, but I’m not living there anymore.” It’s not easy, but neither is carrying the weight of things that can’t be changed.
At some point, I had to ask myself—do I want to keep reliving the same pain, or do I want to move forward? Turns out, peace isn’t something you find. It’s something you make room for.
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