may Heggy

There’s a quiet poison that sneaks into our hearts when we’re not paying attention.

It’s not loud at first. But it lingers.

It changes how we love, how we parent, how we talk to our partners, and even how we show up for ourselves.

It’s called resentment—and I’ll be honest, I’ve had my fair share of it.

Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way (and still have to remind myself often):

Resentment doesn’t just go away on its own.

We have to choose to release it. Actively. Gently. And sometimes over and over again.

I’m inviting you to make that choice with me today—not because it’s easy, but because we both deserve peace more than we deserve to keep replaying what hurt us.

Let’s walk through this together.

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🧳 What have I been silently carrying?

Sometimes we hold onto things for so long, we don’t even realize we’re still carrying them.

The comment someone made.

The times we gave and gave and nobody saw us.

That silent expectation that our effort would be matched—and it never was.

If you’re anything like me, your resentment might be buried under “I’m fine.”

But your body knows. Your sighs know. Your eyes know.

Take a few minutes to write down what you might be holding. Even if it feels small or silly—it matters if it weighs on you.

🛡️ What is this doing for me, really?

I used to believe my resentment was protecting me.

That if I held onto it, it would keep me from getting hurt again.

But the truth? It mostly just made me bitter, tired, and snappy with the people I love the most.

Sometimes resentment gives us this illusion of power or safety.

But deep down, it’s often fear dressed up in armor.

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🎭 What’s hiding underneath all of this?

This one hit me like a brick the first time I realized it:

My resentment was often covering up pain I didn’t feel safe enough to express.

Grief over not being supported.

Disappointment that I was always “the strong one.”

A deep longing for someone to say, “I see you. I’ve got you.”

Underneath resentment, there’s often a tenderness we’ve been trying to protect.

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🤲 What would letting go actually look like?

If I’m honest, sometimes I didn’t want to let go.

I wanted someone to get it, to say sorry, to fix it.

But they didn’t. And I kept holding on like my pain was proof of what I went through.

Eventually, I had to ask myself: What do I need to feel safe enough to let this go?

Maybe you need to write about it, cry it out, or just say, “I’m done.”

Letting go isn’t a performance. It’s a quiet decision that you’re no longer available for emotional clutter.

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🪨 How is this showing up in my life?

Here’s where it gets real.

When I’m resentful, I’m short with my kids. I overthink everything. I carry tension in my shoulders.

I feel stuck, but I keep moving like a machine.

Resentment doesn’t stay in one place. It spills.

Into our tone of voice, our mood, even our sleep.

You deserve a life that feels light again.

What would it feel like to take that weight off?

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🕊️ So… how do I actually let this go?

For me, it started with getting honest.

I wrote letters I never sent. I talked to my journal like it was a safe friend.

I practiced forgiveness—not because “they deserved it,” but because I did.

I’ve done breathing exercises while saying things like,

“I choose peace over punishment. I release what’s not mine to carry anymore.”

You don’t have to rush it. But you can start.

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🛤️ What do I want to do next?

Awareness is beautiful—but action is where the healing sticks.

Maybe you set a boundary.

Maybe you take five minutes a day to check in with yourself.

Maybe you talk to someone who helps you feel grounded.

📓 Bonus: 10 Journaling Prompts to Help You Let Go of Resentment

If you’re ready to work through this more deeply, these journaling questions are a soft starting place.