Have you seen the image of the butterfly trying to fly away, but it can’t because it is tethered to a stone? The caption usually reads, “Let that shit go.”

For some time now, I’ve been working on my spiritual growth. Eight months ago, I started working with Jules, who encouraged me to explore the work of Michael B. Beckwith. Since then, the concept of forgiveness has come powerfully into my consciousness.

The Journey to Self-Forgiveness

My journey began with forgiving myself. I imagined my younger self—naïve, struggling, and trying to figure out who I was meant to be. This introspection opened a door to reflecting on my relationship with my mother, who was abusive and neglectful.

Instead of focusing solely on the hurt, I began to view her through a different lens. She was a young mother of five children with no support from her husband. For the first time, I felt empathy for the immense weight she must have carried, and this empathy led me toward forgiveness.

Clearing the Muck: The Power of Forgiveness

Beckwith teaches that holding on to unforgiveness keeps us stuck in the “muck and mire.” It creates a debt mentality, where we feel someone or the world owes us something. Inspired by this teaching, I started a nightly forgiveness practice to clear out the emotional gunk, one person at a time.

Below is the letter I wrote to my mother. It represents a step in my healing and, hopefully, an inspiration for others on their forgiveness journey.

A Letter to My Mother

Mom,

I can picture you as a young mother, overwhelmed by the enormous responsibility of caring for five children, a home, and pets. Your husband left everything to you, offering no help in raising us. It must have been incredibly hard to manage all of that alone. You were very strong.

I want to acknowledge and appreciate what you did for us. You provided a home, food, good schools, family vacations, day trips, games, and the joy of childhood play. I am also deeply grateful for the support you gave me during one of the darkest times in my life—when I became pregnant through rape. You drove up every night to keep me company and assisted me through the birth. That terrible time still weighs on me, and I carry immense shame from it.

But there are parts of my childhood I am trying to understand and reconcile. The punishments you inflicted on us have left scars. You once told me these things didn’t occur in your own childhood, so I struggle to understand why you chose this path. If Grandma and Grandpa did not resort to violence, why did you believe it was the best way to teach us?

Lining up with my siblings, watching each other be beaten with a strap or smacked with a wooden spoon, felt like torture. How could all of us have been in trouble at the same time? The person who was supposed to love and nurture us the most was the one inflicting the most pain.

When I shared my resentment with you, you seemed surprised and recited a prayer. In that prayer, you said, “Forgive those who have trespassed against us.” In saying this, you acknowledged that you have trespassed against me and that contrition is needed.

I would like to understand your experiences and how you came to these decisions. But if you are unable or unwilling to have this conversation, I offer you this instead:

I forgive you Mom for knowingly and unknowingly hurting me. My forgiveness of you is whole and complete. Through the power of forgiveness all is well between our spirits.
I am free and you are free.*

The Freedom of Letting Go

Forgiveness has been transformative for me. As Beckwith says, “Forgiveness sets you free.” Holding on to resentment only binds us to the past.

To anyone reading this, I encourage you to reflect on your own journey and begin the work of forgiveness—whether it’s forgiving yourself or someone else. Release the weight, set yourself free, and let that shit go.