For as long as I can remember, I have kept a diary or journal of some sort. It has always been a place where I can sort through my thoughts, explore things creatively, and vent all my emotions- especially the “ugly” ones.

Writing is a great comfort to me.

I currently only have journals dating back to 2020, but even those provide an incredible amount of insight. They have become a sort of timeline of my personal growth- a record of who I was, what I believed, what I struggled with, and how much I have changed.

I was looking back through my camera roll this morning when I found a picture of a journal entry from November 4, 2021. It was in response to the prompt: “If you could say one thing to the person who hurt you most, what would it be and why?”

I expected the answer to be written to my mother, or perhaps an old friend. But as I read on, I realized it was written to myself.

An attempt at a letter of forgiveness.

While I was quite vague in my response, I know exactly what I was referencing when I mentioned shame, anger, and disgust. Parts of my life I am going to withhold a little longer, I feel there is still a wise revelation waiting for me somewhere down the road.

But it got me thinking about how I would answer that prompt today.

I feel there is nothing to say to someone who has hurt you other than, “I forgive you.”

But who would I be forgiving this time?

My instinct was to write a letter to my ex-boyfriend. The one who suddenly decided he needed to be single after nearly five years together.

(Praise Jesus, because Scott and I celebrate our first wedding anniversary in September, and we are expecting our baby boy any day now!)

But if I were to write this letter to anyone other than myself, I think I would be shirking responsibility for my own actions and decisions.

And if you know me, you know I am a huge advocate for accountability.

I was the one who hurt me. Again.

I failed myself. Again.

And I forgive myself. Again!

I did not grow up with many examples of healthy relationships. I did not witness healthy communication, emotional regulation, or accountability from the adults around me. These were things I had to learn myself, often the hard way.

And I simply cannot hold anger toward myself for things I did not know.

I can hold myself accountable without holding myself hostage.

There is a difference between acknowledging that I made choices that led to me being hurt and deciding that I am someone who therefore deserves to be hurt.

There is a difference between noting that I won’t make that decision again and punishing myself for having made it.

I am quite proud of myself.

I never waited around to have everything figured out, and while in hindsight, that may have benefited me, I took risks. I tried things. I loved people. I made mistakes. I tried again.

Through all of these experiences, I have accumulated wisdom and confidence- simply because I had the courage to live.

Forgiving myself means remembering I didn’t always know better and understanding why I made those choices.

I am still growing into the recognition of wholeness that God has already given me.

I don’t think we ever really arrive at that “final version” of ourselves, where suddenly everything makes sense. But is that really what wholeness means?

I think it is a gift to experience this continual becoming. To experience the depth and range of love and grief and joy. To make mistakes, and be surprised, to be humbled.

That is something I don’t want to take for granted.

I look back at the girl who wrote that entry in 2021 and feel as much tenderness towards her as I do towards who I was just yesterday.

She didn’t know what I know today- but she was trying.

And so am I.