We often hear people say, “Live in the present. Forget the past.” But for many, that’s easier said than done. The human mind has its own way of clinging to pain — like a wound we keep touching just to check if it still hurts. Knowingly or unknowingly, many of us become prisoners of our memories, trapped between what has happened and what could have been. In my years of observation, I’ve seen that people don’t remain unwell only because of disease or age — sometimes they remain unwell because they can’t forgive. They can’t forgive those who hurt them, or even themselves for the choices they made. They keep repeating their stories, believing that by telling them, they will feel lighter. But this relief is temporary. The wound closes for a moment, only to open again with the next retelling.
Psychologists call this rumination — the habit of repeatedly thinking about distressing events. At first, it feels like catharsis, a way to release bottled-up emotions. When we share our pain, someone listens, and we feel understood. But this comfort is momentary. Each time we recall the same hurt, the brain and body respond as if it’s happening all over again. The heart rate increases, the body tenses, and stress hormones like cortisol are released. Gradually, this constant emotional reactivation drains the body — leading to fatigue, anxiety, and even chronic illness.
What we mistake for emotional release is often emotional reinforcement. Without recognising it, we give new life to our pain every time we retell it.
A Personal Experience: I have witnessed this pattern many times. Some people keep a folder of their medical reports, arranged neatly in chronological order, carrying it wherever they go. It’s as though that folder has become a part of their identity. When you meet them, they open it and begin to narrate their journey — every symptom, every test, every medication - even when you already know their story. At first, I thought it was just a habit, perhaps a way to stay organised. But with time, I realised they were not only carrying a folder of papers — they were carrying a folder of emotions. Each report was a page from a story of pain they weren’t ready to close. Even when you tell them, “I know your history,” they repeat it again — not to inform you, but to reassure themselves. It is their way of seeking catharsis. Yet that relief lasts only for a few moments. Afterwards, the heaviness returns because the act of repetition keeps the pain alive. By repeating their story, they are unknowingly sending a message to life itself: “This is my story, my identity.” And as long as they keep affirming it, healing remains out of reach. True recovery begins only when they stop reliving the past and start releasing it.
Whom Do We Forgive? The question then arises — whom should we forgive? Some are haunted by what others did to them. Others are haunted by what they did to themselves. Both forms of pain can be equally destructive.
Forgiving Others: When we blame others for our suffering, we become emotionally tied to them. We replay their betrayal, their harsh words, their indifference — trying to make sense of it all. This replay becomes a lifelong pattern. Blame feels comforting because it gives us a story where we are right and they are wrong. But that comfort is deceptive. It keeps us bound to the very people and events we wish to escape. Forgiveness in this case doesn’t mean accepting injustice or forgetting what happened. It means freeing yourself from emotional slavery - saying, “You no longer have power over my peace.” When you forgive, you take your energy back.
Forgiving Yourself: Self-forgiveness is even harder. We keep punishing ourselves for decisions we made when we knew no better - for relationships we couldn’t save, for opportunities we lost, for illnesses we couldn’t prevent. This quiet self-blame turns into a chronic inner dialogue: “I should have… I could have…” But guilt doesn’t heal; it only exhausts the heart. When you learn to forgive yourself, you stop fighting with your past self. You recognise that you were doing your best with what you knew then. That understanding is the first step toward healing. The Science of Forgiveness: Modern science supports what spirituality has long taught - forgiveness is not just moral, it’s medicinal. Studies in Health Psychology Review and The Journal of Behavioural Medicine show that people who practise forgiveness have lower levels of anxiety, depression, and stress, and even improved immune function. Neuroscience explains that forgiveness reduces activity in the brain’s fear centre (the amygdala) and strengthens the prefrontal cortex, the part responsible for emotional control. Simply put, forgiveness reprogrammes the brain for calmness. The body listens to every thought we repeat. When we stop rehearsing pain and begin rehearsing peace, the body finally receives the message that the danger has passed — and healing begins.
Why Healing Doesn’t Last Without Forgiveness: Talking about pain brings temporary comfort, but true healing requires release — not repetition. People who depend on constant catharsis, endlessly discussing their trauma or illness, often mistake expression for resolution. Expression gives relief; forgiveness gives freedom. Catharsis is like applying ice to a wound — it numbs for a while but doesn’t cure. Forgiveness, on the other hand, is like cleansing the wound — painful at first, but necessary for lasting healing. Without forgiveness, the mind keeps searching for someone or something to blame, and the cycle of suffering continues. Healing cannot be permanent until the heart learns to let go.
The writer is a nutritionist, counsellor, and wellness coach; views are personal
