Learning to Forgive the Person in the Mirror

What my ex-mother-in-law’s death taught me about living

“Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.” – Zig Ziglar

Today is my ex-mother-in-law’s birthday.

She was the toughest, most resilient, and strongest-willed person I’ve ever met, and was far too young when cancer took her just weeks after she turned 64.

And in one of the most regretful blunders of my life, I didn’t text her until the day after her birthday—a text to which I never received a response.

At that point, she was deeply mired in the kind of suffering that only cancer can bestow, too weak to pick up the phone. But I’m sure her husband read it to her, along with one of the sincerest apologies I’ve ever delivered.

Reflecting now, two years later, I feel that my forgetfulness was inexcusable, but I also have to give myself some grace: My 22-year marriage (and 30-year relationship) with her daughter had ended less than two months before, and I was drowning in a sea of grief and confusion, tossed about among its waves, and too focused on keeping my head above water to pay attention to much else.

I know she forgave me, though. That’s just the kind of person she was.

In her eulogy, taken from her own thoughts, which I had the immeasurable honor of reading at her funeral, I wrote:

“She believed in living life to the fullest – free from grudges, ill thoughts, or anger – and in saying “I love you” often. To her, the wisest people were those who lived with compassion, determination, awareness, and mindfulness for others.”

Standing at that podium with tears streaming down my face, I wholeheartedly believed her words about how to treat others—but didn’t yet understand that they equally applied toward how to treat myself.

The Road I Never Would Have Chosen

In the two years since her death, The Universe has carved more from my life than I would’ve ever imagined. Job loss. Career dissolution. The vanishing of childhood friendships. A brief period of insanity that landed me in a behavioral health center. And the complete dismantling of an identity I’d spent four-and-a-half decades constructing.

If, at her funeral, I’d had a map of the road I was about to travel, I’d have run screaming in the opposite direction.

However, by walking this path, the pain has cracked me wide open. And through those cracks, so much light has poured in.

Time and again, those words have echoed back to me: free from grudges, ill thoughts, or anger.

They’ve helped me realize that I held the harshest grudge against the person who needed the most compassion: me.

And that compassion has helped me gain the courage to face myself, especially the parts I’d numbed with busyness and inebriation. The challenging emotions I’d suppressed for decades because they felt too big, too dangerous, and too inconvenient. The grudges I held against myself for every perceived failure and shortcoming.

Research supports what she understood. Studies by Dr. Kristin Neff have demonstrated that self-compassion involves extending the same kindness and understanding to ourselves that we’d offer a close friend. When we approach our own pain and mistakes in this way, with warmth rather than judgment, we create the conditions for genuine healing and growth.

Self-compassion is also strongly linked to greater acceptance of stressful events and less tendency to dwell destructively on the past. People who practice self-compassion are more willing to acknowledge their difficult emotions as valid, while maintaining enough perspective to keep those emotions from consuming them entirely.

And this is perhaps the biggest skill I’ve learned while compassionately sifting through the wreckage of my former life: how to sit with my emotions without letting them swallow me whole. To feel everything fully, while recognizing that emotions are visitors, not permanent residents. And when I inevitably encounter painful emotions like regret, grief, and sorrow, to extend to myself the same grace I would offer anyone else navigating impossible circumstances.

And from this place of self-compassion, something remarkable has emerged.

The world has become eye-wateringly beautiful.

I now notice things I’d rushed past for decades: The way morning light filters through my living room window. The sound of my daughters’ laughter. The miraculousness of existing at all, on this spinning rock, in this vast universe, with the capacity to love and be loved.

Based on my experience, I believe this is what the most difficult roads can reveal. When we stop fighting the journey and start facing whatever it brings, when we release the grudges we hold against ourselves and others, we become available to the present moment in ways we never were before.

The wisest people, my ex-mother-in-law said, live with compassion, determination, awareness, and mindfulness. And after hundreds of days of leaning into my emotions and compassionately exploring their nuances—especially the tough parts—I’m finally beginning to embody their lessons. And I wake up each morning overflowing with gratitude for the privilege of another day to practice.

A Meditation for Releasing Grudges Against Yourself

Find a comfortable position and close your eyes. Take three slow breaths, letting each exhale carry away a little tension from your body.

Bring to mind something you’ve been holding against yourself. A mistake. A failure. A moment you wish you could rewrite. Let it surface gently, without forcing.

Notice how this self-directed grudge feels in your body. Where does it live? What sensations accompany it? Simply observe, without trying to change anything.

Now, imagine a beloved friend or family member sitting across from you, confessing this same mistake as their own. Pay close attention to how naturally compassion for them rises in your chest. Notice how easily you’d offer them understanding, reframing, and forgiveness.

Next, turn that same understanding toward yourself. Place a hand on your heart and silently offer:

I forgive you. You were doing the best you could with what you had. You are human, and being human means being imperfect. I release this grudge I’ve been holding. I choose compassion instead.

Feel the weight begin to lift. As you sit and breath naturally, you may need to repeat this practice many times before the release feels complete. That’s okay. Healing isn’t linear.

Before you open your eyes, take a moment to notice the beauty around you. The texture of the air. The sounds surrounding you. The miracle of your own breath moving in and out.

The world is waiting for you to see it with fresh, compassionate, and grateful eyes.

Embodying Her Wisdom

Two years ago, I missed a birthday text. I can never undo that.

But I can honor my ex-mother-in-law’s memory by embodying the wisdom she lived: releasing grudges, approaching life with compassion and awareness, and saying “I love you” often.

Including—and especially—to the person in the mirror.

The road that brought me here was harder than anything I could have imagined. But standing on the other side, surrounded by the beauty I was too numb to notice before, I understand something essential: the most difficult paths often lead to destinations simply waiting for us to remember them.

Happy birthday, Kim.

Thank you for continuing to teach me, even now.

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