It took me months after receiving this book to finally open it. Meghan is a co-worker of mine, and loving the concept behind the book, I purchased a copy for myself, one for the community library in Cambrian’s employee lounge, and 30 more for a project I have coming up later this year. As I began preparing for that project, I felt I needed to read To the Soul Within cover to cover so I could integrate it meaningfully.

Sitting at my desk last week, I read the first few letters and was immediately brought back nearly 30 years—to my Chicken Soup for the Soul days. My younger self adored those books, and this one gave me nostalgic vibes in the best way. I set it aside for the weekend, leaving it on my desk to pick back up on Monday.

Opening the book again today, I had a sense of what to expect and welcomed the mindfulness and reflection each letter offered. For the most part, I flew through it. While some of the topics were a little heavier, I found—maybe because I share a lot in common with both authors—that I could relate deeply to almost every one. I saw myself in each letter and reflected on moments in my life that echoed the lessons being shared.

There was just one letter that gave me pause—midway through the book: To the Soul Who Is Ready to Forgive. As I read it, I didn’t feel the same connection I had with the others. I understood the message; I’ve had grudges, disagreements, friendships that ended—or didn’t—and I’ve moved on, sometimes, usually, through forgiveness. But something made me feel stuck. I couldn’t move on to the next letter.

I closed the book and took a moment. Instinctively, I reached for my “Rage Journal” (titled with humour) that I keep at my desk. I turned to an empty page and scrawled:

Not everyone deserves forgiveness.
Not everyone deserves forgiveness.

We all process our emotions differently, shaped by different life experiences. As I continued to write, I came to a realization: it is possible to not forgive, and still let go. I can choose not to hold space for that person, those people, those experiences, in my heart or in my head—and still grow.

I have CPTSD. I often feel the urge to stand beside my past self, to rally and rage with her. My diagnosis means that certain parts of my brain, and my heart, may never fully know peace. And strangely, that’s something I’ve come to accept. Instead of striving for peace through forgiveness, I value my self-worth in a different way. I value my fire. That fire has built my resilience, shaped my humour, and a life filled with depth. I’ve come a long way because of my experiences and, perhaps, because of my refusal to forgive.

Forgiveness isn’t weakness—it is powerful and freeing. But not forgiving isn’t weakness either. That’s what I learned in my reflection. For me, not forgiving is a choice. One that validates my past self, protects my present self, and fuels my future self.

After letting those thoughts out, I continued reading and only paused once more—this time on the letter titled: To the Soul Making Friends with Their Shadow.

“Healing means learning to embrace these hidden shadows, the parts of yourself you’d rather ignore, because they hold immense power and wisdom. Just as shadows follow us, these parts are always present, even when we don’t want to see them.”

While what I took from this might not have been the author’s intention, I marked the page and paused again. I don’t need to forgive to heal. I can embrace the truth that I don’t owe some people my forgiveness. Healing, for me, doesn’t mean pretending my wounds don’t exist. It means recognizing that those shadows are part of me. They always will be.

Forgiveness won’t make the shadows go away. But I can choose to meet those shadows with power, control, and self-determination. I am more than my experiences. I have grown stronger and wiser because of them.

My shadows have made me strong.

This book didn’t just offer mindfulness—it sparked deep reflection. It helped me articulate truths I hadn’t fully put into words before. In doing so, it reminded me that healing is not one-size-fits-all and that the most honest path forward is the one that honours our own unique experiences (& our shadows 😉).