A father can keep a roof over your head and still leave you feeling like he never saw you. Another father’s drinking or threats may make home frightening. Those aren’t the same story, and forgiveness shouldn’t flatten them into one.
One essayist described his relationship with his father as strained and distant, but explicitly not abusive. His father died in 1984, and the essayist called his reflections a gradual process. Other accounts involve alcoholism, volatility, severe abuse, or estrangement. His experience can offer one perspective, not a yardstick for yours.
You don’t have to decide that forgiveness means forgetting, excusing what happened, or letting your father back into your life. Before deciding what it could mean, it helps to be honest about the hurt and whether there are safety concerns now. There’s no deadline, and reconciliation isn’t the required ending.
Key Takeaways
The essayist whose father died in 1984 described their relationship as distant but not abusive, a different experience from accounts involving threats or severe abuse.
One daughter limited holiday visits, stayed elsewhere, drove separately after her father had been drinking, and walked away when he became angry.
A daughter in another account said she hadn’t felt loved; her father’s later effort to listen was part of a gradual, uneven reconciliation.
Table of Contents
Define forgiveness without excusing harm
Forgiveness is working toward releasing resentment or the wish for your father to suffer, without pretending the harm didn’t happen or taking responsibility away from him. Several personal and faith-based accounts draw that line: forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, approving of his behavior, excusing abuse, feeling affection, trusting him, reconciling, or getting back in touch.
Those are separate questions. “Do I want to work toward releasing resentment?” isn’t the same as “Is he accountable?”, “Do I trust him?” or “Is contact safe?” You can still feel angry.
You can name what he did and expect him to take responsibility. Forgiveness doesn’t make the past right.
A video speaker offered one possible expression of forgiveness: wishing a father well while keeping boundaries and letting go of the wish to see him suffer. That’s the speaker’s idea, not a test you have to pass. You don’t have to feel goodwill before you can begin thinking about what forgiveness means to you.
It may help to keep the distinctions plain:
- Forgiveness isn’t forgetting. You can remember what happened and take it seriously.
- Forgiveness isn’t approval or an excuse. His choices remain his responsibility.
- Forgiveness isn’t affection or trust. Neither has to follow.
- Forgiveness isn’t reconciliation or renewed contact. You can consider the first without choosing either of the others.
The essayist whose father died in 1984 wrote about a gradual movement toward mercy in a relationship he described as distant, not abusive. If your father threatened you, harmed you, or is unsafe now, his experience doesn’t measure what you should do.
Name what happened and what it changed
A father who was emotionally distant isn’t the same as one whose drinking, volatility, or threats made home frightening. It can help to name one specific behavior and one effect without diagnosing yourself or committing to forgive.
One narrator described a father who was alcoholic, depressed, and volatile. He threatened and criticized her, and she said the effects included shame, self-blame, reduced confidence, distrust, and fear of criticism.
Carrie Sheffield described a much more severe childhood: she and seven biological siblings lived in motor homes, tents, houses, and sheds, and she attended 17 public schools. She also associated nine hospital visits with serious health struggles. Sheffield later earned a full journalism scholarship and a master’s degree at Harvard. Those achievements don’t cancel the harm she described. For your own situation, start by writing one sentence about what happened and one about its effect.
Decide what contact, if any, is safe
Forgiveness is separate from reconciliation and contact, a distinction explored in phased recovery from infidelity. Decisions about access depend on safety and your father’s behavior, not on whether you’ve forgiven him. One daughter, for example, limited holiday visits to a couple of days, stayed with a friend or at a nearby hotel, drove separately after her father had been drinking, and walked away when he got angry.
Boundaries are decisions about how much exposure you can accept. They don’t prove that you have or haven’t forgiven him. A father isn’t automatically entitled to renewed access, and some readers may need more distance or no contact.
The daughter’s limits helped her maintain some contact with her mother while reducing time around her father’s drinking. Later, her parents’ divorce changed the family picture, but it didn’t instantly repair her relationship with him. They had been married for 42 years when her father angrily divorced her mother, blamed her for his problems, and removed his daughter from his will. The daughter saw little of him for a period before their relationship later shifted.
Short visits and separate transport were one woman’s choices
During holiday visits, this daughter kept her stays brief, arranged separate transportation, and left when her father became angry. Those details show how she maintained some family contact while limiting exposure to her father’s drinking. You don’t have to stay in a situation you consider unsafe.
Choose support that fits your needs and beliefs
Support can help you understand what happened or consider what to do next, but the options in these accounts served different purposes. A daughter sought counseling after a mild nervous breakdown in college and said learning about alcoholism helped her understand its effects. Her father later sought therapy for depression and drinking and attended Alcoholics Anonymous despite not believing in God; her account said he found support to stop drinking. Neither step guaranteed repair.
Counseling or therapy may help you understand the impact
The daughter’s counseling was her way of understanding her experience. It wasn’t a condition for forgiving her father. His later therapy and AA attendance were his own efforts, separate from her counseling.
Spiritual mentorship and other support are distinct options
Sheffield described Christian conversion, baptism, prayer circles, mentorship from Anthony B. Thompson, and Sozo prayer as parts of her own experience. She said the pain returned but gradually diminished.
Private reflection, a trusted person, professional counseling, and faith-based support are different options. You don’t have to persuade your father to participate before seeking support for yourself.
Consider your father’s history without excusing harm
Learning about a father’s past may broaden your view of him, but it can’t undo the harm or its effects. The essayist whose father died in 1984 estimated an 80 percent likelihood that his father faced substantial anti-Semitism as a teenager and a 90 percent likelihood that he saw concentration camps after World War II. Those were the essayist’s estimates, not verified findings. He said his father helped survivors and refugees by translating and coordinating their needs.
The essayist suspected his father’s silence about those experiences may have been meant to protect the family, while recognizing that the silence also left them emotionally distant. In another account, a daughter learned about her father’s childhood in later conversations. He told her he hadn’t felt loved by his parents and had been beaten by his mother after accidentally starting a fire with matches. That context complicated her view of him; it didn’t excuse how he treated her. You can be curious about a father’s history without making it your job to explain away his behavior.
Hold provision, distance, and regret together
A father can provide materially and still cause emotional hurt. The essayist described his father working consistently for 40 years, helping him finish an expensive college with almost no debt, letting him drive, and providing a home and food. He also described his father as emotionally distant and said that distance hurt. He regretted not thanking him for what he had provided, but that regret belongs to his story; gratitude isn’t an entrance fee for forgiveness.
The essayist also said the distance left him less dependent on his father’s approval. At 14, he left Judaism without worrying about his father’s disapproval, and later shared his Christian faith and plans to marry with less fear of it. He saw that as part of his experience, not proof that distance is harmless. He compared his father with the demanding father in Love Story, an elite lawyer and former Olympic athlete; the essayist felt he could succeed by clearing a lower bar. That comparison explains his perspective, not everyone else’s.
Consider a conversation only when participation is workable
Forgiveness is separate from your father’s accountability or willingness to participate. Your own reflection doesn’t require his involvement; repair, if you pursue it, calls for acknowledgment and changed behavior, not pressure on you to forgive. One daughter described a conversation that began after a therapist asked her father to check whether his daughters had felt loved as children. She answered that she hadn’t, even though she could understand intellectually that he might love her.
Tell the truth about whether you felt loved
The daughter’s answer mattered because a parent’s possible intentions and a child’s experience aren’t identical. She later saw the exchange as the beginning of genuine reconciliation, not as proof that one conversation fixes the past. A conversation is only an option if it feels safe and worthwhile to you.
Repair in one account developed through gradual listening
Later, her father invited her to occasional lunches at Harbor Restaurant near her office in San Rafael. He gradually learned to ask questions and listen instead of interrupting with snarky remarks, and he followed stories about her children. She described the progress as uneven. Better listening didn’t erase the past, and reconciliation isn’t required.
Work with an absent, deceased, or unavailable father
Reflection can begin without a deceased or unavailable father’s participation, but it doesn’t guarantee closure or require forgiveness. The essayist whose father died in 1984 wrote about reconsidering their strained, distant relationship after his father’s death. He was clear that it wasn’t abusive. His reflections may offer one account of thinking about an unresolved relationship, not a process for people who survived abuse.
If your father is unavailable, you can consider what happened and what remains unresolved without waiting for a final conversation. Grief, anger, or uncertainty may remain. There’s no need to reach a neat conclusion to make room for reflection.
Use faith as support, not pressure to submit
For some Christian readers, prayer and scripture can support forgiveness without requiring silence, obedience, or renewed contact. A faith-based advice source suggests praying for help and cites Matthew 5:44, Ephesians 4:32, Luke 23:34, and 1 Peter 4:8. Those verses reflect that source’s Christian advice; they don’t mean you have to reconcile. The essayist understood forgiveness through God’s mercy and described an iron chain between generations becoming a breakable daisy chain. That was his belief and metaphor.
Prayer and Christian mercy are options for readers who share the faith
Prayer may be one option if it fits your beliefs; it doesn’t mean accepting the harm or pretending the pain is gone. Sheffield’s account is a reminder that religious language can also be used to control: she described severe abuse by a father who claimed religious authority. During her forgiveness journey, she said she named the abuse, expressed her pain, and stood up for herself.
Honoring a parent doesn’t require obedience or approval
A Christianity Today author’s reading of Exodus 20:12 and Ephesians 6:2 distinguishes honoring a parent from assuming he is honorable or obeying him when he acts dishonorably. Religious guidance shouldn’t be used to pressure you into silence or contact.
Rebuild self-beliefs without treating video claims as clinical fact
Adam Lane Smith’s video, The Real Reason You Can’t Forgive Your Father (And How to Fix It), frames forgiveness through attachment and links it to oxytocin, vasopressin, cortisol, nervous-system responses, serotonin, testosterone, and health outcomes. The transcript excerpt doesn’t substantiate those mechanisms, so treat them as the speaker’s claims, not established causal findings. The video also attributes reported improvements in depression and anxiety, and increased flourishing, to a randomized trial; the supplied excerpt lacks enough study details to assess those findings independently.
Treat peace or healing as possible, not promised
Forgiveness may bring some release, but it doesn’t guarantee that pain ends, trauma resolves, or a relationship returns. The personal accounts describe different experiences, and hurt can remain even when someone is working toward forgiveness.
Frequently Asked Questions
How to forgive and let go?
Start by naming what happened and how it affected you; you don’t have to minimize the harm or decide immediately that you forgive. Forgiveness can mean working toward releasing resentment, while still remembering what happened, holding your father accountable, and keeping whatever boundaries you need. There’s no deadline, and forgiveness doesn’t guarantee that the pain will disappear.
How do you forgive someone who hurt you?
You can begin by acknowledging the hurt honestly rather than excusing it or taking responsibility away from the person who caused it. Forgiveness may involve working toward releasing resentment, but it doesn’t require trust, affection, reconciliation, or renewed contact. You can take your time and still feel angry.
Why am I finding it difficult to forgive someone?
Forgiveness can be difficult when the harm still affects you, when you’re unsure whether contact is safe, or when forgiveness feels like it would excuse what happened. But forgiveness and accountability, trust, and reconciliation are separate questions. You don’t have to force a feeling or reach a neat conclusion on a schedule.
How can I forgive my father without excusing what he did?
Forgiveness doesn’t make the past right or remove your father’s responsibility for his choices. You can name what he did, recognize its effects, and expect accountability while considering whether you want to work toward releasing resentment. You don’t have to approve of his behavior or feel affection for him.
How do I forgive a father who was abusive or made me feel unsafe?
You don’t have to forgive on anyone else’s timeline, and forgiveness should not require you to ignore abuse or return to an unsafe situation. Consider safety and boundaries separately from whether you want to work toward releasing resentment. Support from a trusted person or professional counselor may help you understand the effects of what happened.
How do I forgive my father when he is not sorry?
Your own reflection doesn’t require your father’s participation or apology. You can consider what forgiveness means to you while still recognizing that he is responsible for his actions; repair, if you choose to pursue it, involves acknowledgment and changed behavior. You don’t have to reconcile or renew contact.
How do I forgive my father when he has died?
You can reflect on what happened and what remains unresolved without waiting for a final conversation. That reflection doesn’t guarantee closure or require forgiveness, and grief, anger, or uncertainty may remain. There’s no need to reach a neat conclusion.
How can I forgive my father for childhood trauma?
Start by naming what happened and how it affected you; you don’t need to minimize serious harm or diagnose yourself to do that. Forgiveness is separate from accountability, trust, and contact, and you can take time to consider it while protecting your safety. Counseling or other support may help you understand the impact, but it isn’t a condition for forgiveness.
Interesting!