Validation & The Justice Need (6)

Forgiveness

Forgiveness can seem invalidating, but this is a misconception.

It’s not saying what happened was okay. It is not excusing harmful behaviour, dismissing its impact, or nullifying the idea of justice. It doesn’t automatically equate to reconciliation, especially not without genuine accountability and repair.

Forgiveness also doesn’t negate natural consequences. In fact, allowing consequences to stand is often the most loving and appropriate thing we can do for someone who caused harm. It may be what finally motivates them towards meaningful change.

What is forgiveness, then?

It’s the intentional choice to release resentment towards a person, regardless of whether it’s deserved or not. It’s the letting go of the debt that is owed and the decision to no longer tie our happiness to making or seeing them pay.

This journey necessarily includes a vulnerable turn inwards. Our anger with others is usually at least partly a deflection of the anger we hold for ourselves: if I was stronger, wiser, or better, this wouldn’t have happened. I was too much. I should’ve seen the signs. I misjudged their character. I should be over it by now.

Sometimes, it’s easier to be angrier at others than face ourselves.

So, we must forgive ourselves, too, for real and perceived offences. Consciously. Intentionally.

People often say, ‘forgive but never forget’. The uncomfortable truth is: that’s not forgiveness, it’s an attempt at self-protection. We’re afraid that forgetting equals naivety or saying what occurred no longer matters. Neither is true. Continually ruminating on the pain, living in fear of it happening again, or repeatedly reminding people what occurred signals the ongoing presence of unprocessed grief. That’s not peace.

We know we’ve truly forgiven and healed when what happened is no longer intruding on our minds, slipping into conversations as bitter remarks, or negatively impacting our emotions. The power of it is gone. It takes time, but fully processed and realised forgiveness is, essentially, forgetting.

It’s the act of letting go, a voluntary loss of control.

That’s what feels scary at first.

But if we persist, we can finally unshackle ourselves from both the injustice and the exhausting need to make ourselves and others pay. Forgiveness itself is an act of validation and justice. It says, I see what happened, and I acknowledge its impact without needing someone else to make it right. I’m free, and that’s my justice.

Validation was never about forcing an outcome or exacting fairness from others. It’s about restoring stability, dignity, and agency where harm caused disruption. When justice cannot be obtained externally, validation from others and ourselves becomes the bridge that allows us to lay the burden down, forgive, and move forward with clarity and peace.

That’s the slow, supported work that Still Waters was created to hold.