The Art of Forgiving That Son of a Bitch

It’s likely we all have someone we consider to be a “son of a bitch” in our minds. It could be a politician, a co-worker, or a childhood bully.

Since you opened this article, you’re at least curious about the idea of forgiving them — even if the possibility feels slim. Maybe you’ve heard that forgiveness is good for you psychologically. Or maybe you see yourself as a spiritual seeker, and forgiveness feels like “the right thing to do.”

If you’re not sure where you stand, let’s try a thought experiment.

Imagine that person suddenly drops dead right in front of you. Would you feel sorry for them? Would you call for help? And later, if you were invited to speak at their funeral, would you manage to say something decent?

If your answer is yes, even faintly, that tiny spark suggests some part of your mind has at least a sliver of willingness to forgive that son of a bitch.

But just to be fair — you don’t have to. There are no “unforgiveness cops” roaming the streets arresting anyone holding resentment.

However, holding resentment isn’t a blessing either. In fact, it’s the opposite: it’s harmful to you in ways you might not realize.

Holding resentment pollutes the lake of your mind

If we imagine the mind as a clear lake, then negative thoughts and emotions are like trash floating on its surface.

Resentment is a collection of these negative thoughts and feelings bundled together. Even if you were completely blameless, let’s say an angel descended from heaven to announce that you had no fault at all and that it was entirely their wrongdoing, the negativity would still be there, polluting the water of your mind.

The garbage is floating freely on your lake. You might argue, “I didn’t throw it there!” And maybe you didn’t. But as the owner of the lake, pointing fingers won’t remove the trash. It only delays you from cleaning it up.

If you don’t take responsibility for cleaning it, no one else will.

Holding resentment keeps you reacting in your own mental prison

Resentment means you’re still believing the story you tell yourself about what happened. You keep reacting to it, even years later, and unconsciously shape your life around it. You build a mental prison out of your own reactions, and then you live inside it.

The story I learned from Mark Manson’s book stuck with me.

In The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck*, Mark Manson tells a story about Dave Mustaine, the original guitarist for Metallica.

Mustaine was abruptly kicked out of the band just before they recorded their first album. It was a crushing blow that left him humiliated and burning with resentment.

Instead of processing the pain, Mustaine made a vow to prove them wrong. He poured all his energy into creating a band that would surpass Metallica. That drive gave birth to Megadeth, which went on to sell over 25 million records and become one of the most successful metal bands in history.

Yet despite this massive success, Mustaine couldn’t stop measuring himself against Metallica’s 180 million albums sold. He felt “less than” — forever trapped in the same resentment that had fueled his rise.

Mustaine achieved greatness, but he never found peace. Because resentment doesn’t free you, even when it drives you to succeed.

Superficial forgiveness is not enough to truly liberate you

Superficial forgiveness sounds like this: “You were wrong, but I won’t hold it against you. I was your victim — I still am.”

This is the mainstream version of forgiveness. You “take the high road.” You pretend to forgive because you want to be seen as good or noble.

But this kind of forgiveness isn’t about actually releasing the resentment inside you. It’s about avoiding conflict on the surface while quietly keeping the story of hurt alive.

Nelson Mandela showed what real forgiveness looks like

After 27 years in prison, Mandela could have chosen polite forgiveness — shaking hands, smiling for cameras, but still holding anger inside.

Instead, he released the bitterness itself. He refused to let resentment keep him imprisoned after the bars were gone, freeing himself to lead South Africa without vengeance.

One powerful example: he invited one of his former jailers to his presidential inauguration. He didn’t just shake hands with dignitaries; he reached back into the darkest chapter of his life and invited one of the men who had once kept him behind bars, sharing a moment of letting go of the past and uniting in the spirit of forgiveness for a better future.

That’s not polite forgiveness. That’s true forgiveness.

Because true forgiveness isn’t suppressing anger to “look good.” It’s letting go so the hurt no longer controls you.

True forgiveness is letting go of resentment completely

True forgiveness means holding no negative thoughts, feelings, or stories about that son of a bitch.

You understand: that’s just who they were at that moment.

A snake bites because it’s a snake. Some people are mean, selfish, or even cruel — or they’re just stuck in their own pain and ignorance at the time.

If they could have done better, they would have. If they didn’t, it means they couldn’t just as you can’t ask a snake to stop being poisonous.

You choose to let go of resentment because, while the snake may have bitten you, you don’t want its poison to stay in your blood.

True forgiveness is letting go of the idea that what hurt you can harm your being.

Maybe you think their abuse destroyed your self-worth. But your self-worth remains intact—as long as you don’t give power to their behavior in your mind.

True forgiveness is reaching a place of acceptance: yes, it happened, but it’s in the past. It’s gone, and it doesn’t have to shape your future. When you truly forgive, you break the chain of the past’s curse and open yourself to new possibilities.

Forgiving doesn’t mean letting people walk all over you. You can still stop them from harming you again. You can call the police if they dump garbage in your lake. You can hold them accountable.

But you do it without resentment, with inner peace while taking responsibility for keeping your own lake clean.

The process of forgiveness is like painting an oil painting

You might say: “Easier said than done.” And I fully agree.

Forgiveness isn’t a switch you flip. It’s a process.

Think of it like painting an oil painting.

A painter doesn’t create a masterpiece in one stroke. They build layer upon layer, and slowly the image emerges.

Each brushstroke is like letting go of a bit of resentment.

It’s an art — not a task.

You don’t know exactly when it’s finished. But with each stroke, the bitterness fades, and the painting of forgiveness takes shape.

Here’s a 3-step process

1. Forgive yourself for not forgiving them now

As I said before, there is no "unforgiveness cop." Accept that you still hold resentful thoughts and feelings toward them. There’s no urgency. No stopwatch.

And don’t compare yourself to saints like Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, or Martin Luther King. They can inspire you, but comparing yourself to them will only make you frustrated and discouraged. A student painter doesn’t give up because he’s not Da Vinci. He just keeps painting.

If you don’t forgive yourself for not forgiving yet, you’ll start resenting yourself and that’s just adding another layer of trash to your lake.

2. Use your tiny willingness to forgive to call on a higher power

The forgiveness I’m talking about here is deep spiritual work.

It’s hard.

Go back to that thought experiment — when they dropped dead. That little spark of compassion you felt? That’s enough to start.

Use that spark to call on something greater than you.

Pray to God, or Krishna, or the Buddha, or simply to the Divine as you understand it.

The prayer could be as simple as: Help me see this differently.

That prayer is your first brushstroke.

(And if you’re a hardcore atheist, you can skip this step — move on to step three.)

3. Apply mindfulness to the resentment to release the energy behind it

Resentment is made up of mental images, harsh words, and heavy feelings in your body.

With mindfulness, you can look directly at them.

Instead of letting these three elements tangle together into one big knot, try to track them separately:

• The mental pictures

• The angry inner dialogue

• The body sensations

When you observe them this way, without judgment, their energy begins to loosen.

Each time you simply sit with an image, or hear the angry voice in your head without feeding it, or notice the tension in your chest without fighting it, the resentment loses a little of its grip. Every hateful thought you let pass, every unpleasant sensation you allow, is one more brushstroke on your painting.

Eventually, you may reach a neutral place — and that’s already enough.

Or, sometimes, you might even find compassion blooming there.

In the end, you realize you forgive not because they “deserve” it.

Not because your religion told you to.

Not because it’s the “right” thing to do.

You forgive because your soul craves freedom from the shackles of negative energy.

You see you are like a hot air balloon, meant to roam the sky, but tethered to the ground by sandbags of resentments.

Forgiveness is cutting those ropes.

And when you finally rise into the open sky, you’ll know — it was all worth it.