When Forgiveness Seems Impossible (Resentment & Release Part 2)

Forgiveness is often misunderstood—and for many, it can feel impossible. In Part 2 of Resentment & Release, we explore why letting go can feel like losing control, why grief and anger are valid parts of healing, and why forgiveness is never about excusing harm or staying in unsafe situations.

This episode features the extraordinary real-life story of Mary Johnson, a Minneapolis mother whose only son was murdered. After twelve years of carrying grief and anger, Mary made the remarkable decision to meet—and eventually forgive—her son’s killer. Their journey from tragedy to reconciliation shows that while forgiveness is not quick or easy, it can lead to unexpected healing and connection.

Through Mary’s story and practical insight, we’ll unpack:

• Why resentment can feel like power, but actually keeps us trapped
• The difference between reconciliation and personal release
• How grief and anger both have a place in the healing process
• Why forgiveness is not a requirement for healing—and may never be the right path for some
• How to set healthy boundaries while processing past pain
• A guided reflection to help you explore what you’re still carrying

This conversation is for anyone holding on to hurt, whether from a small slight or a life-altering betrayal. You’ll find compassion, realism, and tools to help you heal—at your own pace and in your own way.

Transcript

Hey friends, welcome back to The Voyage Cast—offering help beyond the office, for the days when life demands more than a session.

I’m Ed—your host, your guide, and someone who’s walked with a lot of people through pain they didn’t think they’d ever get past.

If you missed Part 1 of Resentment & Release, we talked about the prison of resentment—how it traps us in the stories we tell ourselves, and why it feels safer to stay there. Today, we’re going deeper into why letting go can feel like losing—and how one remarkable story shows it’s possible even in the most extreme circumstances.

Letting Go Feels Like Losing Control

When someone deeply wounds you—emotionally, physically, relationally—you lose something. Maybe your voice. Maybe your sense of safety. Maybe the trust you built over years, crumbling in seconds.

And when that happens, it’s not just pain—it’s powerlessness.

Resentment sneaks in and offers you something that feels like power—bitterness becomes a kind of control. It says, “You hurt me… but I won’t let it go.”

That resentment becomes a way to anchor yourself to something solid.

But that anchor isn’t rooted in justice. It’s rooted in trauma.

It starts to tell you that your pain is your power, that it’s who you are now. And that’s the trap: it feels like strength—but it’s actually a cage.

Letting go doesn’t feel like healing. It feels like losing the last bit of control you had.

But maybe what you’re actually letting go of… is the illusion of control.

A Real-Life Story of Forgiveness in the Extreme

If that idea feels abstract, let me take you into the story of Mary Johnson—a woman who lived this truth in one of the most extreme, heart-wrenching ways imaginable.

In 1993, Mary’s only son, Laramiun Byrd, was shot and killed during a party altercation by 16-year-old Oshea Israel. The grief and rage that followed were deep and unrelenting. For twelve years, Mary carried the weight of that pain like a chain—her anger, her loss, her need for answers all bound tightly together.

Eventually, she made a choice that surprised even herself: she reached out to Oshea while he was still in prison. She needed to see if the boy she remembered from court was the same person she would meet across the visiting table.

When they sat down together, Mary found not the 16-year-old she had frozen in her mind, but a grown man—one who was remorseful, humbled, and forever changed by what he had done. That meeting became the turning point. In that moment, she realized she was done carrying the anger that had defined her life for over a decade.

Over time, something extraordinary happened: Mary began to call Oshea her “spiritual son.” When he was released in 2010, they became neighbors in Minneapolis. Oshea would help her with chores; they would speak together at prisons and events for crime survivors, telling their story of reconciliation. Mary even founded a nonprofit—From Death to Life—to help others find healing between victims and offenders.

Their journey didn’t erase what happened. Forgiveness didn’t mean the tragedy was okay. But it did mean Mary was no longer trapped inside the walls of her own grief. She found a freedom she hadn’t thought possible—and in doing so, helped create a story that continues to inspire and transform others.

Mary’s story shows us something powerful: forgiveness is not easy, it’s not quick, and it’s not simple. It often takes years of wrestling. But when it comes, it can change not only a heart—it can change an entire community.

Forgiveness Isn’t Saying “It’s Okay”

And that’s exactly where we need to be careful.

When we talk about forgiveness, stories like Mary’s can inspire us—but they can also create unrealistic pressure if we misunderstand what forgiveness actually is.

Forgiveness does not mean saying what happened is okay.

It doesn’t mean excusing harm.

And it certainly doesn’t mean staying in unsafe situations.

Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation.

Reconciliation requires two people—ownership, change, trust.

Forgiveness? That’s something you do on your own.

Healthy boundaries protect your future even as you process your past.

Forgiveness is about deciding, “I will not carry this any longer,” not about pretending it didn’t matter.

Why We Resist Forgiveness — The Grief Factor

Here’s what’s often underneath our resistance to forgiveness: grief.

Letting go of anger means touching the sadness underneath:

• That they’ll never be who you hoped they’d become.
• That the version of the relationship you wanted won’t exist.
• That the apology may never come.

And let’s also be honest: anger is part of that grief.

Anger says, “What happened to me mattered.”

Grief is tender—it asks you to mourn not just what happened, but what didn’t.

And mourning isn’t weakness—it’s part of healing.

When Forgiveness Feels Like Betraying Yourself

Forgiveness can feel like self-betrayal.

You might wonder:

• Am I dishonoring my pain?
• Am I letting them off the hook?
• Am I rewriting the story unfairly?

Here’s the truth: for many, forgiveness is a step forward—an act of honoring your pain and choosing your own path ahead, at your pace.

🧠 Segment 5: The Fear of Losing Leverage

Sometimes resentment feels useful.

It justifies distance, guardedness, and mistrust.

But that “safety” eventually becomes isolation.

You weren’t meant to hold power through pain—you were meant to hold it through healing.

🧠 Segment 6: The Myth of Closure

Closure is often a myth—most people never get the apology or justice they hope for.

Forgiveness can become its own kind of closure—chosen from within.

🧠 Segment 7: A Better Definition of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is choosing to release the inner demand that someone must pay you back for you to be okay.

It’s not a requirement for healing, and it’s okay if you never get there.

🧠 Segment 9: You’re Not Weak. You’re Healing.

Forgiveness is not weakness—it’s one possible path to freedom.

And if you need help on that path, that’s what therapy is for.

If today’s episode stirred something in you, share it with someone who needs it. And remember—healing doesn’t have to be done alone.