Anyone remember those old inspirational posters that used to hang in offices? You know the ones — a soaring eagle with the word Perseverance slapped underneath, or a mountain peak promising Excellence. These days, they’ve mostly been replaced by internet memes your friends text you when they think you need a pick-me-up. And honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

I saw one today — actually several, thanks to TikTok’s endless suggestion loop. They were all about forgiveness.

 

Forgiveness is, to me, one of the strangest human concepts. Churches preach it, self-help books swear by it, therapists encourage it. But in its purest form? I don’t think it exists. Here’s why.

 

If something done to you is painful enough that it requires forgiveness, it’s usually a wound that never fully heals. You can say the words — I forgive you — and maybe you even mean it. But years later, when something stirs that memory, the emotions come roaring back. Sometimes it’s a casual flicker, sometimes it’s nearly incapacitating. Either way, the hurt resurfaces. That’s the thing: forgiveness doesn’t erase the act. It doesn’t even erase the feelings. It just papers over them until life rips the paper off again.

 

Triggers remind you of this. Not hatred, necessarily, but the emotions you carried at the time.

 

That said, forgiveness can exist in certain forms. I’ve had meaningful conversations with someone who bullied me in school. Over time, we reached a place of mutual understanding. Today, we even check in on each other. That’s as close to forgiveness as I’ve ever come. But I’d call that rare, not the rule.

 

The truth is, some acts are woven too tightly into your life to forgive. And here’s a news flash: you don’t have to forgive. Not in church, not in Sunday school, not in therapy. Refusing forgiveness doesn’t mean lightning bolts from a divine being are coming for you. You can accept an apology if you want. You can also tell someone to shove it. Either way, you won’t be smitten on the spot.

 

I’ve lived through things I can’t and won’t forgive. People tell me, they’re dead, they can’t hurt you anymore. But they can — memories and damage don’t vanish with the person. Sometimes the best I can say is: thankfully, it’s over.

 

In fact, forgiveness can be harmful. It’s often paired with “forget.” Forgive and forget, they say. But the forgetting never happens. Even in the rare case where I forgave, I still remember the details — they’re just blurred by time. If the right trigger appears, they resurface instantly.

 

Here’s where I land: you may forgive the person, but you can’t forgive the act. People can grow, redeem themselves, change course. But the act lingers forever. Maybe blurred, maybe quiet, but always there.

 

And that’s okay. Forgiveness is optional. Closure is optional. Neither are required for survival. Sometimes, insisting on forgiveness or closure just reopens wounds that were finally starting to scar over.

 

At the end of the day, you’re the one who decides what’s best for your healing. For me? I don’t lean on forgiveness or closure. I lean on the comfort of those I love — my dog, my mom — because if anything can bring a sense of peace, it’s them.