There’s something powerful about the idea of being anchored. An anchor doesn’t stop the waves. It doesn’t calm the storm. It doesn’t prevent the wind from howling or the rain from falling. What it does do is keep you grounded when everything around you feels like it’s trying to pull you under.
And lately, I’ve been thinking about what it really means to be anchored in love and forgiveness. Not the easy kind of love. Not the kind we give freely to people who treat us well, who show up, who make us feel safe and seen. That kind of love flows naturally. It doesn’t require much wrestling within ourselves.
I’m talking about the hard kind. The kind of love we’re asked to extend when we’ve been hurt. When someone has disappointed us, betrayed us, or left wounds we didn’t ask for. The kind of forgiveness that doesn’t come easy, because everything inside of us wants to hold on—to the pain, to the anger, to the “they don’t deserve it.”
I heard something recently that stopped me in my tracks: “The greatest soldier is not the one who serves for the hate of his enemy, but for the love of his country.” And it made me think… what if the strongest version of us isn’t the one fueled by anger, but the one rooted in love?
Because anger feels powerful in the moment. It feels justified. It gives us something to hold onto when we’re hurting. But if we’re being honest, anger clouds us. It distorts our judgment. It keeps us tied to the very thing that hurt us in the first place.
Anger doesn’t protect us the way we think it does. Love, on the other hand, has a different kind of strength. A quieter strength. A deeper one. The kind that doesn’t react impulsively but responds with intention. The kind that says, “I refuse to let what hurt me turn me into someone I’m not.”
Forgiveness doesn’t mean what happened was okay. It doesn’t mean you excuse the behavior or open the door for more harm. It doesn’t even mean reconciliation is required. What it does mean is that you are choosing peace over poison.
Because holding onto unforgiveness is like carrying a weight that was never yours to begin with. It drains you. It lingers in your thoughts. It shows up in ways you don’t always recognize—shorter patience, guarded interactions, a heaviness that follows you into places that once felt light.
And the truth is, the person who hurt you may not even feel that weight. But you do. Being anchored in love means making a decision—sometimes daily—to not let pain dictate your character. It means choosing to see beyond the moment of hurt and remembering who you are at your core. It means understanding that your ability to love and forgive is not a weakness, but one of the greatest strengths you will ever carry.
Because it takes strength to walk away from bitterness. It takes strength to release something that feels justified to hold onto. It takes strength to say, “I will not let this define me.” And maybe that’s where the real freedom is found. Not in waiting for an apology. Not in needing closure from someone else. But in giving yourself permission to let go.
“Anger never enhances your judgment, but love will always make it better.”
That doesn’t mean love makes everything easy. It doesn’t mean you won’t still feel the sting of what happened. But it does mean that when you choose love, you are choosing clarity. You are choosing growth. You are choosing to move forward without dragging the past behind you.
So if you’re in a place where forgiveness feels impossible right now, that’s okay. Take it one step at a time. Start with the willingness. Start with the desire to be free, even if your heart hasn’t caught up yet. Because healing doesn’t happen all at once.
Because healing doesn’t happen all at once.
But anchoring yourself in love… that’s where it begins.
And over time, that anchor will hold you steady in ways you never imagined.
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đź’ś Support for Your Healing Journey
Healing and forgiveness aren’t things we rush—they’re things we walk through, one step at a time. If you’re in a place where your heart feels heavy, know that you don’t have to carry it alone.
Sometimes having a few gentle tools can help you process what you’re feeling in a safe and meaningful way.
Journaling can be a powerful way to release emotions you may not be ready to say out loud. It gives your thoughts a place to land and your heart room to breathe.
You might also find comfort in devotionals or quiet moments of reflection—small reminders that healing is still happening, even when it feels slow.
And on the days that feel overwhelming, creating a peaceful space—lighting a candle, sitting in stillness, or simply allowing yourself to pause—can help bring a sense of calm when you need it most.
Below are a few things that may gently support you on your journey 🤍
My Forgiveness Journal: One Day at a Time
The Forgiveness Journal by Lysa TerKeurst
đź’¬Related Reading on LuvMyCrazy
Family Without the Strings: Finding Balance and Boundaries
When Adult Children Go No Contact
🤍 Support & Resources
NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness)
If you or someone you love is struggling with grief or loss, you’re not alone. There are organizations that offer free support, guidance, and community:
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline
Call or text 988
https://988lifeline.org
⚠️ Affiliate Disclaimer
This post may contain affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you. I only recommend books that align with the heart and mission of LuvMyCrazy.