For the longest time, I wondered what it really meant to forgive someone you no longer talk to.
I used to think forgiveness required a conversation, an apology, an explanation, or some kind of final moment between two people. Maybe I thought I needed the other person to understand what happened before I could truly let it go.
But I’ve learned that forgiveness doesn’t always require another person.
Sometimes, forgiveness is something you quietly do for yourself.
Last evening, I met up with an old friend who, at one point in my life, wasn’t the best friend to me. There was unnecessary turmoil, conflict, and a lot of emotions surrounding that period of our lives. It wasn’t easy. There were things that hurt, things I didn’t understand, and feelings that took time to process.
And yet, somehow, more than a decade later, we have remained in touch. Over the years, the relationship became cordial. There was no longer the same intensity or closeness, but there was respect.
Sitting across from each other over coffee and ice cream, I realized something.
I had forgiven them.
Not because what happened didn’t matter. Not because I suddenly believed everything that happened was okay. And certainly not because I had forgotten.
I had forgiven them because I no longer wanted to carry it.
There is a difference between remembering something and living inside of it.
I can acknowledge that I could have been difficult at times. I can own my mistakes and the ways I contributed to situations.
But I also recognize how much I’ve grown since then. I’m proud of the person I’ve become and, particularly, proud that I can sit in a difficult conversation without allowing old emotions to take control of me.
What surprised me was realizing that my old friend may still be carrying some of those feelings.
There were questions about why things happened the way they did. Questions about the past. Questions that, in some ways, I had already stopped asking myself a long time ago.
My response was simple.
I’m not mad.
Things happened.
I’ve moved past them.
And I’m genuinely happy for you.
I can be happy about your successes, your schooling, your new home, and the life you’ve built without needing to reopen everything that happened between us.
That realization felt light and freeing to me due to the fact that there is freedom in recognizing that you don't have to control how someone else remembers the past.
You don't have to convince them to see things the way you do.
You don't have to defend yourself forever.
And you don't have to keep revisiting a chapter simply because someone else hasn't finished reading it.
For me, letting go has meant choosing where my energy goes.
I’ve realized recently that I’ve started drifting from the path I’ve been on for a long time — a path centered around positivity, movement, growth, and intentionality.
For years, I filled my life with things that gave me direction. Running. Working out. Development projects. Goals. Things to build. Things to accomplish. Things that required my attention and gave my mind somewhere to go.
Those things haven't disappeared.
But they have changed.
My projects have adjusted. I’ve created more downtime. I’ve become more proactive about scheduling my life in ways that allow for more balance.
I’ve also learned that new cultivated space has created its own challenge.
When you spend so much time in motion and busy; you don't always notice what you're carrying.
Running was more than exercise for me. Working out was more than physical activity. Projects were more than projects. They created momentum. They filled time. They gave my energy somewhere to go.
And now that there is more space, my mind has started wandering into places I haven't had to visit in a while.
That isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Maybe this is what happens when life gets quiet enough for you to actually hear yourself.
So I’m reassessing.
My actions.
My feelings.
My routines.
My relationships.
The way I operate.
The places where I put my energy.
And, perhaps most importantly, the people and connections I want to intentionally invest in.
There is something unfamiliar about operating this way.
For so long, I knew what the next goal was. I knew what I was working toward. I knew what needed to get done.
Now, there is a gap.
I don't necessarily know what comes next.
But maybe knowing isn't the point right now.
Maybe the point is paying attention.
Maybe the assessment is the work.
I'm learning that growth isn't always about adding something new. Sometimes growth is recognizing what no longer needs to occupy your energy.
It is forgiving someone without needing them to know.
It is sitting across from someone who once hurt you and realizing there is no anger left.
It is admitting that you're tired.
It is creating space and discovering what rises to the surface when you stop filling every moment.
And sometimes, the next chapter doesn't begin with a major decision.
It begins with a routine.
A little more intention.
A little more balance.
A commitment to move your body again.
A commitment to make time for the people who matter.
A commitment to protect your peace without closing yourself off from connection.
I'm beginning to understand that being intentional doesn't mean filling every hour of the day.
It means being thoughtful about what deserves a place in your life.
Who deserves your energy.
What deserves your attention.
And what no longer deserves to be carried.
I don't have everything figured out.
But I think I'm finally comfortable admitting that.
There is peace in knowing I don't have to.
The past can remain the past without being denied or forgotten
People can have their own version of what happened.
I can own my mistakes without owning someone else's emotions.
And I can move forward without carrying every old feeling with me.
Maybe that's what forgiveness really is.
Not forgetting.
Not excusing.
Not pretending.
Just deciding that you are ready to put the weight down.
And for the first time in a long time, I'm learning to appreciate the space that comes after.