The Process of Letting Go

By Sweta Mishra

It’s strange how some relationships — especially those bound by blood — can leave the

deepest wounds. I never imagined that the people who were supposed to protect me would

become the reason I built walls around my heart. For a long time, I tried to understand, to

justify, to fix things that were already broken beyond repair.

There was anger, sharp and heavy. There were words I wish I hadn’t said — words that came

from pain, not hatred. And yes, I carry the awareness that my reactions sometimes mirrored

the hurt I received. But behind that, there was a quieter truth: I was hurt first. I was called

names I didn’t deserve. I was pushed, silenced, and even struck — by the very hand that

once promised protection, the same hand I had tied Rakhi on.

That moment changed something inside me. It wasn’t just about the physical pain; it was

about the betrayal that cut through the very idea of family. It made me question love,

loyalty, and what it truly means to forgive.

Still, I forgave. Not once, but twice. I believed in healing, in giving another chance, hoping

that maybe, if I softened, the bond would heal too. But life doesn’t always reward the brave

heart. Things worsened again. The words grew sharper, the silences heavier, and the

distance deeper.

That’s when I understood — forgiveness doesn’t always lead to reconciliation. Sometimes,

it’s just a release. A way of saying, I won’t let your actions define my peace anymore.

Letting go wasn’t easy. It never is when it’s family. There’s guilt, nostalgia, and an ache that

lingers even after the anger fades. You wonder what to do when you see them again —

whether to smile politely or look away like strangers. Eventually, you realize there’s no rule

for it. Some days you nod. Some days you pass by in silence. Both are okay.

And then one morning, peace quietly arrives. Not because they changed, but because you

did. Because you stopped needing closure or apology. Because you finally understood that

peace is not in going back — it’s in moving forward without the weight of the past.

Today, I carry no revenge, no resentment. Only truth, forgiveness, and strength. My apology

is not surrender — it is grace. My forgiveness is not weakness — it is freedom.

I may never have the same bond again, but I have something stronger — myself.

By Sweta Mishra