“The past is the past!”

“Forgive and forget.”

“Let bygones be bygones.”

Our culture has plenty of platitudes to offer when it comes to forgiving each other’s wrongs. Yet anyone who has lived through betrayal knows the reality is more complex. The process of forgiveness is anything but linear.

In my clinical work, I once sat with a couple (whom I will call Peter and Tiana) who had worked hard to rebuild trust in the aftermath of Tiana’s affair two years earlier.

Peter was glad they were reunited, building a life together, and raising their young son. Yet something unresolved remained for him. He had told Tiana (and himself) that he had forgiven her, but the pain would still surface from time to time without warning.

This case study raises a deeper question: If Peter wanted to forgive so badly, why did the hurt remain?

The Hidden Roots of Present Pain

Even though all Peter wanted to do is move on from this heartache and pain, I invited him to slow down and be present with it for a moment, encouraging him to explore it.

As he did, a memory surfaced from his childhood. Peter recalled overhearing his father tell his mother that they did not need to keep a promise they had made to him (to buy him a bicycle for his birthday) because he was “only a child.”

Emotionally, this discussion his parents probably didn’t even remember had left a deep imprint on him: the experience of broken trust, of promises that did not hold, of being small and unprotected. The betrayal Peter felt now was not only about the affair; it touched much older wounds.

This is often how emotional pain operates. Present events activate earlier emotional templates, and then younger parts of us that are under-resourced to respond, thus amplifying the intensity of our reactions. What appears to be the reactivity of our adult self is really that of our younger, wounded inner-children.

The Turning Point: Compassion for the Self

I invited Peter to notice how he was feeling toward that younger version of himself. After a few moments of reflection, his breathing deepened and his posture straightened. He described feeling a warm, radiant sensation in his chest.

Soon this feeling strengthened into something more: an unexpected wave of compassion and care for his younger self. He described the sensation as a gentle light, coming from within him yet also surrounding him. It felt grounding, stabilizing, and expansive all at once.

In that moment, Peter was no longer defined solely by his pain. Instead, he discovered his capacity to tend to it with care. What had been a source of suffering became a chance to offer himself the understanding he had long needed, surprising himself in the process.

Compassion, especially Self-compassion, changes our relationship to suffering. Instead of defending against pain, being consumed by it, or feeling self-pity and victimization, we can learn to hold it with warmth and understanding.

Compassion Naturally Expands

From this place of Self-compassion, Peter suddenly found himself feeling compassion for Tiana as well. He didn’t excuse her actions, but he could suddenly understand them within the context of her own feelings of neglect and loneliness during a period when he had been frequently absent.

He also felt compassion for his father, recognizing that his father’s broken promise had emerged from financial anxiety after being laid off from his job, rather than indifference. Importantly, these shifts were not forced. They arose naturally for Peter once compassion had been established within himself.

This reflects a key psychological truth: Compassion shifts the nervous system from threat into safety, creating the conditions in which our heart can open and forgiveness can take root. And when it comes to long-term benefits, it’s even been proven that Self-compassion predicts lower anxiety, depression, rumination, and fear of failure.[i] Meanwhile, forgiveness has been found to improve outcomes for those struggling with PTSD.[ii]

Forgiveness as an Emergent Process

Forgiveness is often misunderstood as something we must choose through effort or moral discipline. But in reality, while the intention to forgive can be an important ingredient, forgiveness is more often the byproduct of emotional integration. Particularly when it comes to infidelity, recovery must undergo the distinct stages of discovery, decision-making, and rebuilding trust.[iii]

This does not mean forgetting the harm or denying its impact. Rather, it means releasing the emotional constriction around it. In the case of Peter, he learned to no longer experience himself solely as a victim of betrayal. He experienced himself as someone capable of holding pain, his own and others’, understanding it, and moving through it—a much more empowering self-image.

Conclusion: Compassion Is the Doorway

Ultimately, forgiveness is not something we can command on demand, nor is it achieved by repeating cultural platitudes or willing ourselves to “move on.” When the emotional wounds beneath the surface are seen, felt, and held with compassion, healing unfolds organically.

Peter’s healing did not come from forcing himself to absolve Tiana, but from reconnecting with the younger parts of himself that had long carried the wounds of broken trust. By extending compassion inward, he created the inner stability necessary for compassion and forgiveness to emerge on their own.

This is the secret at the heart of healing: Forgiveness begins not with the other person, but with ourselves. When we learn to meet our own suffering with warmth rather than resistance, the grip of past injuries loosens. We go from victims to powerful, resilient individuals. [iv]

Through compassion, we reclaim our openhearted aliveness. We won’t erase what happened, but we can transform our relationship to it, alchemizing suffering into connection and care.