Set You Free

Forgiveness. It is one of the most basic, foundational pieces of guidance common to virtually all philosophy, religion, therapy, life coaching…yet we struggle so mightily to follow it.  

The recent comforting, empowering, and revelatory anthology from Miami/Toronto publisher Life to Paper When We Forgive: Stories of Hurt, Healing & Everything in Between seeks to remedy this with stories from 15 writers sharing their own journeys to mercy and grace. It is, as accompanying press materials note, written “for those who feel forgiveness may be out of reach, this collection offers lived experiences not as answers, but as a reminder that even in the most difficult circumstances, change is possible.” 

AQUA Miami convened a roundtable of two of the anthology’s Miamian contributors—Life to Paper Founder/Publisher Tabitha Rose and writer C.V. Shaw—for a discussion about the volume, the challenges of sharing such personal stories, and the benefits of walking through the fire to the other side.

Was it nerve-wracking at all to share such sensitive and vulnerable details publicly?      

Celia Shaw (CS): When I first considered writing a story for When We Forgive, I figured I would have to scratch beneath the surface and I would ultimately have to forgive whomever I was writing about as part of the process and that felt intimidating in itself; however, I never imagined I would be swimming into a riptide that would drag me into such depth that felt like I would drown in my own tears. Then, there was the shame. What would people think of me as I exposed some of my defensive behaviors? But I did it anyway, because it was for me as well as for the readers.  As it turned out, I wasn’t drowning; instead, I was unconsciously diving for a hidden treasure—and found it. 

Tabitha Rose (TR): While I hold the role of publisher, I’m also a contributor in the book—and writing my own chapter was still a vulnerable experience. It’s one thing to hold space for others to tell their stories, and another to step into that same space yourself. Especially when the story is still alive and evolving. So yes, there was a level of vulnerability in sharing it—but also a sense of responsibility. If I’m asking others to go there, I have to be willing to go there too. 

How have you come to define forgiveness?   

TR: I don’t see forgiveness as absolute anymore. I used to think it meant a clean slate—that everything was fully resolved, fully let go. But my experience has been different. Forgiveness, for me, is more of a spectrum. It’s not about saying what happened was okay, and it’s not dependent on receiving an apology. In my case, I had to forgive without one. It became something I had to do in order to live—to get well. I was told very clearly in early recovery: if you want to move forward, you have to let go, you have to forgive, and you have to make your own amends. So, I did. 

CS: Forgiveness is allowing peace back into your life. Resentment and peace cannot reside together in the same place and at the same time. You do it for yourself. 

TR: And what I found was a kind of freedom—not perfection, not a fixed or “healed” relationship—but a lightness. A shift in how I carry it. I often say now, I’m as free as I need to be. 

Writing is processing. Did you learn anything new about your decision to forgive or the person you chose to extend forgiveness to by writing your way deeper into the situation?  

CS: I came to realize that there was so much more to a situation than how it was originally perceived. Once out of the state of emotion, I was able to understand the narrative from their perspective as well as mine from the version of who I was. I was also able to see how my belief systems back then shaped my way of thinking moving forward. In writing Self-Flagellation, I discovered hidden meanings that I could not fathom at that time. That discovery set a whole new tone for my self-awareness, as well as how I now understand those I forgave. 

TR: Yes, writing it deepened my understanding in a way I didn’t fully expect. I had already experienced a moment of forgiveness in my life. But putting it into words helped me see what actually made that possible. It wasn’t time, and it wasn’t the other person changing—it was understanding. When I recognized that I had lived a version of what my father had lived, something shifted. Writing that out made it undeniable. It also helped me accept that forgiveness didn’t fix everything. The relationship is still complex. There are still moments that are difficult. But the way I carry it is different. There’s less resentment, more acceptance, and clearer boundaries. 

Did reading others’ stories in the anthology surprise you at all? 

CS: It did. In our self-involvement and valid victimhood mentality, we fail to see how so many other people are also living or have lived through tough situations, much tougher than mine. So many of us are walking around with deep wounds that others would never imagine. And it’s always deeper than it seems to the person holding it. 

TR: What struck me most was how different each story was—and yet how connected they all felt. Forgiveness doesn’t look the same for any two people. Some stories are about reconciliation, others about letting go without ever reconnecting, and some about forgiving oneself. What surprised me was the nuance. It’s not simple, and it’s not always clean. And I think that’s what makes this collection so meaningful—it shows that there isn’t one “right” way to forgive. There’s a lot of space within it. 

What do you hope readers take away from both your story and the anthology as a whole? 

TR: I think all of us in this book, myself included, set out to tell stories of finding forgiveness when it was incredibly hard, when it maybe even felt impossible for a long time. We shared these stories because we wanted others who feel that way to know that they can find their way there, too. Not perfectly, not all at once—but in a way that brings some kind of freedom. 

CS: I hope readers find a safe space within themselves to dig a little deeper in hopes to understand all sides, as both sides of the wound hurt even if it’s hard to imagine. Unhealed people hurt people. At some level, the aggressor is also the victim. As hard as it may be to accept that when one is hurting, it can provide some sense of freedom, and liberating yourself will bring peace. I feel that is what forgiveness is all about. And that includes forgiving yourself.  

TR: Many of these stories exist in really complex spaces—mental health, addiction, trauma, abuse, complicated family dynamics. These aren’t simple situations, and forgiveness in those contexts isn’t simple either. So, I hope readers take away a sense that there is a path forward, even in the hardest circumstances. That they don’t have to wait for everything to be resolved, or for someone else to change, in order to begin. If this book can help someone feel less alone or help them take even one step toward their own version of forgiveness, then it’s done what it was meant to do. 

All proceeds from When We Forgive will go to support the Life to Paper Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to helping individuals impacted by mental health and addiction experience the therapeutic power of storytelling. 

For more information or to order the book, visit lifetopaper.com.