A NEW DOOR

And it begins with ourself.

We are rarely taught how to tend to the wounds, fears, and traumas we quietly collect throughout life.
Instead of meeting them with care, we’re often told to keep moving, to stay strong, to smile.
As a dear friend once said, “We brush it under the rug… and then sit on it.”

Over time, this quiet suppression becomes a weight.
We may find ourselves living lives that don’t quite feel like ours—
Stuck in patterns of painful relationships, careers that dim our spirit, or family dynamics that echo old hurt.
We may smile on the outside, yet carry a subtle emptiness within.
A sense that something is missing, even if we can’t name it.

But life is too short to carry what no longer belongs to us.
And healing doesn’t begin with fixing—it begins with forgiveness.

Not the kind that rushes past the pain, but the gentle kind.
The kind that sits beside your younger self and says,
“You did your best. I see how hard it was. I love you anyway.”

Forgiveness is not about justifying harm or forgetting the past.
It’s about making space—so that something new can bloom.
It’s a gift we give ourself.

Forgive yourself for the choices you made in survival.
Forgive the times you didn’t know better.
Forgive the version of you who carried more than they should have.

And as your heart softens toward yourself, you may begin to feel a shift.
The same compassion that held you may start to reach others—
Not because they deserve it, but because you deserve peace.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation.
It doesn’t mean condoning harm.
It means choosing not to carry the poison any longer.

When you forgive, the darkness in your chest begins to turn to light.
And without even trying, you open a new door—
One that leads to softness, strength, and the quiet joy of being whole again.

So take a breath.
Place a hand on your heart.
And whisper:
“I am ready to forgive. I am ready to begin.”