Letting Go of Resentment: When Justice Becomes a Cage
It’s not uncommon to crave justice when we’ve been wronged—especially when it’s someone we once loved who turned against us. When you’re falsely accused, when lies are told, and you lose something you deeply care about, the rage can feel righteous. The fight feels justified. And for a while, it is.
But holding onto that resentment, that deep need for revenge… I’ve seen where it leads. I’ve heard it in the voices of others. People who’ve held onto their pain for years—voices cracked with grief, trembling with injustice—but it wasn’t just their story that got to me. It was how much they had let the hurt run their life. How every choice since that moment had been shaped by pain, not peace.
They stopped living. Professionals who once thrived became consumed with proving the truth. They stopped working, stopped connecting, stopped moving forward. And it hit me—this is what we become when we don’t let go.
Something in me shifted that day. It made me realise: happiness, joy, peace, love—none of these live in the constant pursuit of justice. Not when the war is already over. Yes, they lost to foul play, but the real damage was to their own psyche. They lost themselves long after the court dates ended.
And I didn’t want that to be me.
All the complaints I’d had about an unjust system, a broken process… it just didn’t seem to matter anymore. I didn’t want to be a person riddled with anger, whose very body was breaking down from carrying the weight. That energy—it’s toxic. I wanted happiness. Not just for myself, but even for the person who tried to hurt me. As crazy as that sounds, it’s real. It’s freedom.
It’s one of the hardest things to explain—wanting peace for someone who caused you pain. But when you witness what long-term resentment does to someone, it changes something in you. That path doesn’t lead anywhere good. To look back on a life fuelled by injustice… that’s not the legacy I want.
Sometimes, we make choices that cost us deeply. Sometimes, walking away from your own child in the middle of a custody war isn’t giving up—it’s saving them. Saving them from the chaos, the emotional instability, the interrogations, the forced sides. You lose a part of yourself, yes. But if done with love, it can birth a new version of you. One that chooses peace over pain.
And if you’re in the storm right now, I know it’s hard to see outside of it. But people choose who they are every day. Their actions are on them. Your growth is on you.
Moving forward isn’t about broadcasting your sacrifice. It’s not about being praised for your pain. It’s quietly choosing peace, every day. There will still be tears. It will still hurt from time to time. But you’ll find moments where you smile, and feel grateful—for what you let go of, and for who you’ve become.
It’s not about forgetting. It’s about growing, even if the other person stays stuck. Let them.
And keep going.
As Roxie Nafousi States in her book MANIFEST
The beauty of the world can only be experienced by someone who is willing to see it