Author: Margaretha Montagu

How admitting “I don’t know” can transform your relationships

What this is: A practical exploration of intellectual humility, the art of knowing what you don’t know, and why the happiest people are those brave enough to admit their blind spots.

What this isn’t: A call to become indecisive, self-doubting, or to abdicate your expertise. This isn’t about diminishing your accomplishments; it’s about amplifying your capacity to grow.

Read this if: You’re exhausted from always having to have all the answers. You’ve noticed your certainty sometimes costs you relationships. You’re ready to lead with wisdom rather than just intelligence. You suspect there might be freedom in the phrase “I could be wrong.”

Five Key Takeaways

1. Intellectual humility doesn’t weaken your authority; it strengthens it. When you acknowledge gaps in your knowledge, people trust you more, not less.
2. The smartest people in the room are often those willing to say, “Teach me.” Curiosity is the hallmark of true intelligence, not the illusion of omniscience.
3. Being intellectually humble reduces stress and anxiety. When you stop defending every position as if your identity depends on it, you breathe easier.
4. It transforms conflict into collaboration. Arguments become explorations. Disagreements become opportunities to learn rather than battles to win.
5. Intellectual humility can be mastered. It’s not a personality trait you either have or don’t have, it’s a practice you can cultivate, starting today.

Use this prompt to ask AI to help you learn something new: “Help me design a personalised learning plan for mastering [subject]. Break it down into daily learning tasks, recommended resources, and practical exercises I can do to build my skills.”

Introduction: The Paradox at the Heart of Success

I came across the term “intellectual humility” for the first time recently as I was reading an article in the Greater Good Magazine. I though it may be interesting to look into it, in more depth, considering the opinionated times we live in.

Why? Because the very traits that got you to the top, your decisiveness, your confidence, your ability to analyse complex situations and make bold calls, may now be the cage keeping you trapped in stress, frustration, and diminishing returns.

You’ve spent decades building credibility. You’re the person people turn to for answers. Your opinion carries weight in boardrooms, strategy sessions, and family decisions. You’ve earned your expertise through late nights, hard lessons, and relentless dedication. So why would you ever admit you don’t know something?

Because intellectual humility, the capacity to recognise the limits of your knowledge and remain open to new information, might be the single most valuable skill you haven’t yet fully embraced. It’s the counterintuitive secret that separates leaders who burn out from those who evolve. It’s what transforms strained relationships into genuine connections. And it’s a quality that can help you sleep better at night, even when you don’t have all the answers.

My mentoring approach, refined by personal experience over many, many years, is based on the premise that true transformation begins not with adding more knowledge, but with creating space, space to question, space to be wrong, space to grow. Over 20 years of working with executives and professionals in stress management, I’ve witnessed a pattern: the most resilient leaders aren’t those with the most answers, they’re those comfortable with the most questions.

The Story of Catherine Ainsworth

Catherine Ainsworth had perfected the art of certainty. As the Chief Operating Officer of a mid-sized pharmaceutical company, she’d built her reputation on making tough calls quickly and being right more often than not. The data was her religion, the spreadsheet her bible, and her track record spoke for itself: three consecutive years of revenue growth, a streamlined supply chain that competitors envied, and a team that, though occasionally resentful of her exacting standards, consistently delivered results.

But at 47, Catherine was exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could fix.

Eventually, the cracks began to show.

She was sitting in the executive conference room, the autumn light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes that danced above the polished mahogany table. Her CFO, Marcus, was presenting an alternative approach to the Q4 strategy, one that diverged significantly from Catherine’s proposal.

She could feel her jaw tightening, that familiar sensation of her teeth pressing together as Marcus spoke. Her fingers drummed against her leather portfolio, a staccato rhythm of impatience. The room smelled of fresh coffee and the faint vanilla scent of someone’s perfume, but Catherine tasted only the metallic edge of defensiveness on her tongue.

“The problem with that approach,” she interrupted, her voice clipped and precise, “is that it ignores the supply chain vulnerabilities we identified in Q2. We’ve already analysed this.”

Marcus paused, his shoulders dropping almost imperceptibly. Around the table, eyes shifted downward to notes that suddenly required intense scrutiny. The silence stretched like taffy, uncomfortable and sticky. Catherine could hear the hum of the air conditioning, the soft tap of someone’s pen against paper, the sound of her own pulse in her ears.

She won that meeting, as she usually did. But as she returned to her office, the victory felt hollow. Through her glass walls, she could see her team, heads bent over their desks, and she realised with a jolt how rarely anyone challenged her anymore. How often meetings ended with nods of agreement that felt more like resignation than genuine consensus.

That evening, Catherine sat in her BMW in the underground car park, unable to summon the energy to drive home. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and she felt the leather’s grain pressing into her palms. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly green hue. She could smell engine oil and concrete, that particular scent of enclosed spaces where cars live instead of people.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her daughter: “Mom, are you coming to my recital or are you too busy being right about everything?”

Catherine’s breath caught. The words stung precisely because they were true. When had “being right” become her primary mode of existing? When had her need for certainty transformed from an asset into a wall, one that kept her apart from her team, her family, herself?

She thought about her marriage, dissolved three years earlier. “You can’t just listen, can you?” her ex-husband had said during one of their final arguments. “You always have to correct, to improve, to show me the better way. Sometimes I just need you to be uncertain with me.”

Sitting in that car park, the engine cooling with soft metallic ticks, Catherine felt something crack open inside her. Not breaking, exactly. More like the first fissure in a chrysalis. She didn’t have the words for it yet, but she was touching the edge of intellectual humility, the recognition that her relentless certainty had become both her shield and her prison.

The next morning, Catherine did something unprecedented. She walked into the executive suite and asked Marcus to coffee. “Tell me more about your Q4 proposal,” she said, and then, with words that felt foreign but somehow liberating in her mouth: “I think I might have dismissed it too quickly. I’d like to understand what I’m missing.”

Marcus’s expression shifted from wariness to something resembling hope. And Catherine felt, for the first time in months, the lightness that comes with putting down a burden you didn’t realise you were carrying.

Over the following weeks, as she began practising what she’d later learn to call intellectual humility, Catherine noticed something remarkable. Her team started speaking up more. Meetings became laboratories for ideas rather than stages for her expertise. Her blood pressure, which had been creeping upward for years, began to normalise. She slept better. She laughed more.

And her daughter started texting more often, messages that began with “I’ve been thinking about what you said” rather than complaints about what she hadn’t heard.

Catherine’s journey was just beginning, but she’d discovered that intellectual humility isn’t weakness dressed up as virtue. It’s the courage to grow, even when you’ve already arrived.

What Is Intellectual Humility, and Why Does It Matter?

The Definition: More Than Just Admitting You’re Wrong

Intellectual humility is the recognition that your beliefs, knowledge, and perspectives are inherently limited and potentially flawed. It’s the capacity to hold your convictions lightly enough to examine them honestly, to welcome contradictory evidence without defensiveness, and to change your mind when the facts warrant it.

But here’s what makes it truly powerful: intellectual humility isn’t self-deprecation. It’s not about thinking less of yourself, it’s about thinking of yourself less often. It’s the difference between “I might be wrong” (humility) and “I’m probably wrong about everything” (lack of confidence). One opens doors; the other closes them.

Research in psychology and organisational behaviour reveals that intellectually humble people actually make better leaders, maintain stronger relationships, learn faster, and experience less anxiety. They’re not paralysed by doubt, they’re liberated by curiosity. In my work with executives during our Camino de Santiago stress management retreats, I’ve observed this transformation repeatedly: when people give themselves permission to not know, they paradoxically become more effective at navigating complexity.

The Neuroscience of Certainty and Why We Cling to It

Our brains are prediction machines, constantly creating models of reality and then defending those models as if our survival depends on it. In our evolutionary past, it often did. Uncertainty triggered the amygdala, our brain’s threat-detection system, because not knowing where the predator lurked could mean death.

Today, intellectual threats activate the same neural pathways. When someone challenges your deeply held belief, your brain processes it similarly to a physical threat. Your heart rate increases, stress hormones flood your system, and your prefrontal cortex, responsible for nuanced thinking, goes partially offline. You literally become less intelligent when your certainty is challenged. See Porter T, Elnakouri A, Meyers EA, Shibayama T, Jayawickreme E, Grossmann I. Predictors and consequences of intellectual humility. Nat Rev Psychol. 2022;1(9):524-536.

This is why intellectual humility is both difficult and essential. It requires overriding your brain’s protective instincts in service of growth. It demands that you befriend uncertainty rather than banish it. Through two decades of clinical practice and fifteen years hosting transformative retreats where guests walk the Camino de Santiago, I’ve witnessed how powerful this shift can be when people learn to sit with “I don’t know” without panic. See also Bąk W, Wójtowicz B, Kutnik J. Intellectual humility: an old problem in a new psychological perspective. Current Issues in Personality Psychology. 2022;10(2):85–97.

The Professional Benefits: Why Humble Leaders Outperform

Study after study confirms what seems counterintuitive: leaders who display intellectual humility create more innovative, engaged, and profitable organisations. Why? Because they:

Build psychological safety. When the leader can say “I was wrong” or “I need help understanding this,” team members feel safe to take risks, admit mistakes, and propose unconventional ideas.

Make better decisions. By actively seeking disconfirming evidence and diverse perspectives, intellectually humble leaders avoid costly confirmation bias and groupthink.

Adapt faster. In rapidly changing environments, the ability to update your mental models quickly is more valuable than being right initially.

Inspire loyalty. People don’t trust perfection, they trust authenticity. A leader who admits limitations appears more credible, not less.

Reduce team stress. When perfectionism isn’t the standard, everyone breathes easier. Teams led by intellectually humble managers report lower burnout and higher job satisfaction.

In my Road Map to Resilience online course, we explore how intellectual humility serves as a foundation for career transitions and leadership evolution. It’s not about abandoning your expertise, it’s about holding it with an open hand.

How Intellectual Humility Transforms Those Around You

The Ripple Effect in Relationships

When you embrace intellectual humility, something remarkable happens in your relationships. Arguments lose their edge. Your partner’s different perspective becomes interesting rather than threatening. Your children feel heard rather than corrected. Your colleagues become collaborators rather than competitors.

This isn’t just about keeping the peace, it’s about accessing collective wisdom. Every person in your life has knowledge you lack, experiences that could inform your blind spots, and insights that could shift your trajectory. But they’ll only share them if they believe you’re genuinely open to being influenced.

I’ve written eight books about divorce, loss, unexpected illness, and coping with crises, and one pattern emerges consistently: relationships fracture not because people disagree, but because they defend their convictions as if life itself is at stake. Intellectual humility reverses this. It says, “Your perspective matters more than my need to be right.”

The Community Impact: Leadership That Lifts

When you model intellectual humility, you give others permission to do the same. You create cultures, whether in your organisation, your family, or your community, where learning is valued over looking smart, where curiosity trumps certainty, where “I changed my mind” is celebrated as growth rather than criticised as inconsistency.

This matters beyond your immediate circle. In a world fractured by polarisation and rigid ideologies, intellectual humility is a form of radical hope. It suggests that bridge-building is possible, that we can hold strong values without demonising those who disagree, that complexity can be navigated without pretending everything is simple.

The people who attend my retreats often describe a profound shift: from seeing themselves as islands of competence to recognising they’re part of an ecosystem of wisdom. With over 30 testimonials on my website speaking to these transformations, the pattern is clear: intellectual humility doesn’t just change you, it changes the people around you.

How to Cultivating Intellectual Humility – three Options

A Writing Prompt

Set aside 20 minutes in a quiet space. Consider a belief you hold with strong conviction, something you feel certain about in your professional or personal life. Now write:

Part 1: Describe this belief in detail. Why do you hold it? What evidence supports it? How has it served you?

Part 2: Now, imagine you’re wrong. Not slightly mistaken, but fundamentally incorrect about this belief. Write from that perspective. What would the evidence for the opposite view look like? What would you need to revise about your understanding?

Part 3: Reflect on what this exercise felt like. Did you resist? Did you discover nuances you hadn’t considered? What might you be missing by holding this belief too tightly?

This practice, inspired by the reflective work we do during Inner Camino storytelling circles, isn’t about abandoning your convictions. It’s about loosening your grip enough to examine them honestly.

A Gratitude and Intention-Setting Exercise

Each morning for the next week, practice this brief ritual:

Gratitude: Identify one thing you learned yesterday that challenged or expanded your previous understanding. It might be small (“I learned my colleague’s scepticism comes from a past project failure I knew nothing about”) or significant (“I realised my approach to work-life balance isn’t the only valid one”). Express gratitude for that learning.

Intention: Set an intention for intellectual humility today. It might be: “I will ask three questions before offering my opinion in meetings,” or “I will respond to criticism with ‘Tell me more’ instead of defending myself,” or “I will notice when I feel defensive and breathe before responding.”

An AI Prompt

Use this prompt to ask AI to help you examine your convictions: “Act as an expert on [your conviction], explain the most important concepts, and provide real-world examples to illustrate each. Then, give me a step-by-step guide to master this topic in the next 30 days.”

Further Reading: Five Books on Intellectual Humility

1. “Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know” by Adam Grant

Grant, an organisational psychologist at Wharton, makes a compelling case for the joy of being wrong. His research-backed insights into how successful people update their beliefs make this essential reading. I chose this book because it bridges rigorous science with practical application, perfect for evidence-driven professionals.

2. “The Scout Mindset: Why Some People See Things Clearly and Others Don’t” by Julia Galef

Galef distinguishes between “soldier mindset” (defending your beliefs) and “scout mindset” (mapping the terrain accurately). This book offers concrete techniques for developing intellectual humility without sacrificing conviction. It’s particularly valuable for leaders who need to make decisive calls while remaining open to new information.

3. “Humble Inquiry: The Gentle Art of Asking Instead of Telling” by Edgar Schein

Schein, a pioneer in organisational culture, demonstrates how asking the right questions builds relationships and solves problems more effectively than having all the answers. This book transformed how I facilitate the storytelling circles during our retreats, showing how curiosity creates connection.

4. “Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error” by Kathryn Schulz

Schulz explores the experience of being wrong with humour and philosophical depth. She argues that our capacity for error is inseparable from our capacity for genius. I included this because it reframes “wrongness” as not just acceptable but essential to the human experience.

5. “The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety” by Alan Watts

Watts, the philosopher who bridged Eastern and Western thought, explores how our pursuit of security and certainty creates the very anxiety we’re trying to escape. This contemplative book pairs beautifully with the physical practice of walking, which is why I often recommend it to retreat participants.

P.S. For a practical, accessible guide to navigating life transitions with humble curiosity, explore my book Embracing Change, in 10 minutes a day. It offers daily practices for building psychological flexibility, including exercises that cultivate intellectual humility during uncertain times.

From the Inner Camino Community: Real Stories of Transformation

Testimonial from a Camino de Santiago Retreat Guest:

“I arrived at Dr Montagu’s Camino de Santiago walking retreat convinced I had my life figured out. I was a successful consultant, used to being the smartest person in the room. But during our evening storytelling circle with the Friesian horses present, something shifted. When Margaretha gently asked, ‘What if your certainty is costing you connections?’ I felt defensive. Then I felt tears. By the end of the week, walking those ancient paths and sharing vulnerably with strangers who became friends, I discovered that admitting ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t weakness, it was freedom. My relationships at home have transformed. My teenage son actually talks to me now because I’ve stopped lecturing and started listening.” — Richard M., Management Consultant, London

Testimonial from a Virtual Storytelling Circle Member:

“Joining Dr Montagu’s virtual storytelling circle was a leap of faith during a difficult career transition. I’d always been the one with the plan, the answers, the five-year strategy. But redundancy at 52 shattered that identity. In the circle, I learned to hold my story lightly, to listen without immediately problem-solving, to say ‘I’m still figuring this out’ without shame. The other members modelled intellectual humility in the most beautiful ways, sharing their own uncertainties, their revised beliefs, their works in progress. Being part of this community taught me that wisdom isn’t having all the answers, it’s being brave enough to sit with the questions. I’m now in a new role that I never would have considered before because I was finally open to paths I hadn’t predetermined.” — Jennifer L., Former Financial Director, Manchester

Frequently Asked Questions About Intellectual Humility

Doesn’t intellectual humility make you appear weak or indecisive as a leader?

Quite the opposite. Research shows that leaders who display intellectual humility are perceived as more competent and trustworthy, not less. There’s a crucial distinction between intellectual humility (“I might be missing something, let’s examine all angles”) and chronic indecisiveness (“I can’t make up my mind”). Strong leaders make decisions, but they do so after genuinely considering alternative viewpoints. When you admit what you don’t know, people trust what you say you do know.

How do I balance intellectual humility with the need to project confidence in high-stakes situations?

Confidence and humility aren’t opposites, they’re dance partners. You can be absolutely confident in your values, your commitment to finding the best solution, and your ability to navigate complexity, while remaining humble about whether your current understanding is complete. In high-stakes situations, saying “Based on current information, here’s my recommendation” is both confident and humble. It demonstrates decisiveness while acknowledging that you’ll adjust if better data emerges.

Won’t people take advantage of me if I admit I don’t know things?

This concern usually reflects past environments where vulnerability was punished. In healthy systems, intellectual humility builds respect rather than inviting exploitation. People who might take advantage of genuine openness are revealing their own character, not exposing a flaw in your approach. Moreover, pretending to know what you don’t creates far greater vulnerability, when you’re eventually found out, which is inevitable, you lose credibility permanently.

How can I develop intellectual humility when my entire career has been built on being the expert?

Your expertise remains valuable, intellectual humility doesn’t erase it. Instead, it expands your expertise by making you coachable and adaptive. Start small: in low-stakes situations, practice saying “I hadn’t considered that angle” or “Tell me more about your thinking.” Notice that the world doesn’t end. In fact, you’ll likely find that people engage more deeply with you. Your expertise becomes more impactful when it’s offered as a contribution rather than a declaration.

Is there such a thing as too much intellectual humility?

Yes, though it’s rare. Intellectual humility becomes problematic when it slides into self-doubt or prevents you from acting on well-founded knowledge. If you find yourself paralysed by uncertainty or dismissing your own expertise automatically, you’ve overcorrected. Healthy intellectual humility says, “I’m confident in what I know, and I’m open to learning more.” It’s the integration of confidence and curiosity, not the abdication of judgment.

Conclusion: The Courage to Admit We Do Not Know

In a world that rewards certainty, choosing intellectual humility is an act of courage. It’s the recognition that your growth matters more than your image, that connection matters more than being right, that wisdom is found not in having all the answers but in asking better questions.

As David Foster Wallace observed, “The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.” Intellectual humility is the willingness to be finished with, to let truth refine you rather than defend yourself against it. It’s uncomfortable work. It requires dismantling the fortress of certainty you’ve built brick by brick over decades. But on the other side of that dismantling is something more valuable than being right: the freedom to keep growing.

You’ve achieved remarkable things with your intelligence, your decisiveness, your expertise. Imagine what becomes possible when you add humility to that already impressive foundation. Imagine leading teams where people bring you their wildest ideas because they know you’ll truly consider them. Imagine relationships where disagreement becomes opportunity rather than threat. Imagine sleeping soundly, knowing you don’t have to have all the answers because you’re part of a community of seekers, all fumbling toward truth together.

The path of intellectual humility doesn’t diminish you. It liberates you. And that liberation ripples outward, touching everyone you lead, love, and serve.

The question isn’t whether you know enough. The question is: Do you understand the need to keep on learning?

Your Invitation: Walk the Camino, Transform Your Relationship with Certainty

Imagine seven days where the only thing you need to know for certain is which foot to place next on an ancient pilgrim path. Where the rhythm of walking, the beauty of the French countryside in Gascony, and the companionship of fellow seekers creates space for the kind of transformation that’s impossible to schedule into your already-packed calendar.

My Camino de Santiago Crossroads walking retreats in the south-west of France offer something increasingly rare: permission to not have it all figured out. Each day, you walk through stunning landscapes, practising mindfulness and meditation techniques designed specifically for people who carry the weight of responsibility like a second skin. The walking itself becomes a metaphor for intellectual humility; you can’t rush the path, you can’t control the terrain, you can only show up present for each step.

Evenings are spent in our storytelling circles, sometimes in the peaceful presence of my Friesian horses, who have an uncanny ability to reflect back our authentic selves without judgment. Here, we become simply human, sharing vulnerabilities, asking questions that have no easy answers, practising the art of listening without needing to fix or solve. Participants consistently describe these circles as the most transformative element of the retreat, the place where intellectual humility shifts from concept to lived experience.

This isn’t a holiday, though the setting in the south-west of France is undeniably beautiful. This is intentional time away from the demands of your high-performance life to reconnect with the curiosity and openness that first fuelled your success before certainty became your default mode. It’s where you remember that “I don’t know” can be the beginning of wisdom rather than the admission of weakness.

With 15 years of hosting these retreats and a varied collection of testimonials speaking to their impact, I’ve witnessed again and again how the combination of walking, mindfulness practices, and authentic community creates lasting shifts in how participants lead, relate, and live. You’ll return not with all the answers, but with something better: the capacity to sit with uncertainty while still moving forward with purpose.

Spaces are intentionally limited to preserve the intimacy and depth of the experience. If you’re ready to trade the exhausting weight of certainty for the liberating practice of intellectual humility, I’d be honoured to host you.

Learn more and reserve your spot.

Stress destroys Lives. To find out what you can do to safeguard your sanity by taking my insight-giving quiz, subscribe to my mailing list.

Use all suggested AI prompts with circumspection.

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Dr Margaretha Montagu, MBChB, MRCGP, NLP Master Practitioner, Medical Hypnotherapist, Life Transition Coach, has spent 20 years supporting stressed professionals in finding sustainable wellbeing and 15 years guiding transformative walking retreats on the Camino de Santiago. She is the author of eight books on navigating life’s inevitable transitions and the creator of the Inner Camino approach to stress management and personal growth.

Latest Posts

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• Book Review: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
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Reclaim Your Power and Peace by Celebrating the Courage It Takes to Forgive

What this is: A deep dive into the overlooked final stage of forgiveness: the bit where you actually pat yourself on the back for completing one of life’s most gruelling emotional marathons. Think of it as permission to throw yourself a one-person ticker-tape parade.

What this isn’t: Another “forgiveness is a gift you give yourself” platitude that makes you want to throw something. This isn’t about bypassing your pain or rushing the process. We’re not here to tie everything up with a pretty bow and pretend betrayal doesn’t sting like fury.

Read this if: You’ve done the hard yards of forgiving someone (or yourself), you’re exhausted from the emotional heavy-lifting, and you’re wondering why there’s no certificate, medal, or at least a decent bottle of wine waiting for you on the other side.

5 Key Takeaways

1. Forgiveness is a multi-stage process that deserves recognition at every milestone, especially at the very end
2. Self-congratulation isn’t narcissism, it’s essential psychological hygiene that reinforces positive behavioural patterns
3. The lack of external validation for forgiveness work means you must become your own cheerleader
4. Celebrating your forgiveness journey creates neurological pathways that make future emotional work easier
5. Acknowledging your achievement prevents resentment from creeping back in through the back door

Introduction: The Silent Achievement

Here’s something nobody tells you about forgiveness: it’s the only Herculean task you’ll ever complete without so much as a participation trophy. You can run a marathon and get a medal. Finish your degree and receive a diploma. Lose weight and people notice. But forgive someone who shattered your trust? Crickets.

We live in a culture obsessed with visible achievements, yet forgiveness, one of the most demanding emotional accomplishments a human being can undertake, happens entirely in the shadows of your psyche. No one rings a bell. No one posts congratulations on your social feed. The person you forgave might not even know you’ve done it.

Admit it: you probably haven’t congratulated yourself either.

We’re brilliant at beating ourselves up for holding grudges, but rubbish at celebrating when we finally let them go. It’s as if we expect forgiveness to be instantaneous, like flicking a light switch, rather than what it actually is: a slow, painful climb up a mountain you never asked to scale in the first place.

As someone who has spent 20 years working with stressed professionals and executives, I’ve witnessed countless successful people who can negotiate million-pound deals, manage teams of hundreds, and juggle impossible schedules, yet they struggle to acknowledge their own emotional victories. The hardest journey isn’t always the one under your feet, it’s the one within.

So let’s change that narrative. Let’s talk about why you deserve a standing ovation for the forgiveness work you’ve done, and why celebrating yourself isn’t optional, it’s essential.

The Story of Elena Rogers: When Forgiveness Feels Like Failure

Elena Rogers sat in her corner office on the 47th floor, watching the September sun paint London in shades of amber and gold. The view was spectacular. Her career was spectacular. Her life, on paper, was spectacular. But inside, she felt hollow, as though she’d been scooped out with a spoon and left to function on autopilot.

Six months earlier, Elena had forgiven her former business partner, Marcus, for the betrayal that had nearly destroyed the company they’d built together over a decade. He’d been siphoning funds, making deals behind her back, undermining her authority with clients she’d nurtured from their first nervous pitch meetings. When the truth emerged, it felt like being hit by a lorry she never saw coming.

The forgiveness hadn’t been a lightning bolt moment. It had been more like erosion, waves of acceptance gradually wearing down the jagged edges of her rage. She’d worked with a therapist. She’d written letters she never sent. She’d walked, and walked, and walked, through parks and along the Thames, trying to make sense of something that would never fully make sense.

And then one morning, she woke up and realised the burning sensation in her chest had faded. She could think about Marcus without her jaw clenching. She could remember the good years without the memories being immediately contaminated by the betrayal. She had, impossibly, forgiven him.

But instead of relief, Elena felt… deflated. Shouldn’t there be fireworks? Shouldn’t she feel transformed, lighter, free? Instead, she just felt tired. Bone-tired. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your marrow and then sets up camp.

She mentioned it, almost embarrassedly, to her sister during their weekly phone call. “I’ve forgiven Marcus,” she said, the words tasting strange in her mouth.

“That’s good,” her sister replied absently, clearly distracted by her toddler’s demands in the background. “What are you doing for Dad’s birthday?”

That was it. The conversation moved on. No acknowledgement of the Everest she’d just climbed. No recognition of the emotional surgery she’d performed on herself without anaesthesia. Elena felt a fresh wave of something, not anger exactly, but disappointment. She’d expected… more.

What Elena didn’t realise was that she was waiting for external validation for an entirely internal achievement. She was waiting for someone else to hand her the gold star she needed to give herself.

That evening, Elena poured herself a glass of wine, something she rarely did on weeknights. The city lights twinkled below her, each one a life being lived, a story unfolding. She could smell the leather of her sofa, the faint vanilla from the candle she’d lit. The wine was crisp on her tongue, cold and sharp.

She raised her glass to her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. “Well done, Elena,” she whispered. The words felt ridiculous. Melodramatic. But also, somehow, necessary. “You did something really bloody hard, and you did it alone, and you did it anyway.”

The tears came then, hot and unexpected, streaming down her face in a way they hadn’t during all those months of anger and processing. These weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of recognition. Of finally, finally, acknowledging what she’d accomplished.

She’d forgiven someone who didn’t deserve it, not for him, but for herself. She’d chosen peace over vindication. She’d done the work when every instinct screamed to stay bitter, to nurse the wound, to make sure the world knew how wronged she’d been.

And nobody had noticed. Nobody except her.

In that moment, Elena understood something profound: the celebration, the congratulations, the recognition, it all had to come from within. She was the only witness to her own transformation. She was the only one who could truly comprehend what she’d survived and how she’d emerged on the other side.

Why Don’t We Congratulate Ourselves After Forgiveness?

The absence of self-congratulation following forgiveness isn’t accidental; it’s cultural, psychological, and deeply ingrained. I’ve spent two decades exploring this phenomenon with stressed professionals, and I’ve identified several reasons why we skip our own celebration party.

The Invisibility Problem

Forgiveness leaves no physical evidence. There’s no “before and after” photo opportunity. Your colleagues can’t see that you’ve shed 20 pounds of emotional baggage. Unlike external achievements, forgiveness is an internal revolution that looks utterly unremarkable from the outside. We’re conditioned to celebrate visible milestones, not invisible victories.

The “Should” Trap

Many people operate within a framework of shoulds. “I should be able to forgive.” “I should be the bigger person.” “I should have done this months ago.” When we frame forgiveness as an obligation rather than an achievement, we strip it of its celebratory potential. It becomes just another item ticked off an endless to-do list.

The Minimisation Reflex

Successful people are often experts at moving the goalposts on themselves. The moment they achieve something difficult, they immediately focus on what’s next or what’s still imperfect. “Yes, I forgave them, but I still feel sad sometimes.” “I’ve let it go, but I’m still dealing with the consequences.” This relentless focus on what remains undone prevents us from honouring what we’ve already accomplished.

The Humility Myth

There’s a pervasive belief, particularly in British culture, that celebrating yourself is somehow unseemly or arrogant. We’ve confused healthy self-recognition with narcissism. We’ve internalised the notion that proper people don’t make a fuss, even when they’ve done something extraordinary.

The Exhaustion Factor

Frankly, by the time you’ve completed the forgiveness process, you’re knackered. The last thing you want to do is organise a celebration. You just want to collapse on the sofa with a cup of tea and pretend to watch television whilst your brain finally, blissfully, quiets down.

But here’s what 15 years of hosting stress management retreats on the Camino de Santiago has taught me: the celebration isn’t optional. It’s not the cherry on top; it’s the final, crucial stage of the forgiveness process itself.

The Stages of Forgiveness

Understanding forgiveness as a staged process helps us recognise why congratulations matter. Drawing from psychological research and my own clinical experience, here are the stages most people traverse:

Stage One: Impact and Injury

This is the immediate aftermath of betrayal, loss, or harm. You’re in shock. The wound is fresh. Your nervous system is in fight-or-flight mode. This isn’t the time for forgiveness; this is the time for acknowledgement and self-protection. You’re simply trying to survive the emotional tsunami.

Stage Two: Anger and Blame

The shock wears off and fury rushes in to fill the space. This stage is necessary and healthy. Anger is information. It tells you that your boundaries were violated, that something precious was damaged. Many people try to skip this stage because anger feels uncomfortable or “unspiritual.” Don’t. Anger is the bridge between victimhood and empowerment.

Stage Three: Bargaining and Rumination

Your mind becomes a hamster wheel of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” You replay the situation endlessly, trying to find the moment where things went wrong, the place where you could have prevented the damage. This stage is exhausting and can last far longer than the others if you’re not careful.

Stage Four: Depression and Grief

You stop fighting reality and start feeling the full weight of your loss. This is where many people struggle most because they’re not accustomed to sitting with difficult emotions. They want to do something, fix something. But this stage requires you to simply feel.

Stage Five: Acceptance

This isn’t forgiveness yet. Acceptance means you’ve stopped fighting with reality. You’ve acknowledged that what happened, happened, and you cannot change it. You’ve integrated this painful truth into your life narrative.

Stage Six: Meaning-Making

Here, you begin to explore what this experience has taught you. How have you grown? What have you learned about yourself, about others, about life? This is where post-traumatic growth begins to emerge from post-traumatic stress.

Stage Seven: Forgiveness

Finally, you reach a place where the person or situation no longer holds power over your emotional wellbeing. You’ve released the need for revenge or vindication. You’ve chosen peace over being right. This doesn’t mean forgetting or excusing the behaviour. It means you’re no longer willing to let the past poison your present.

Stage Eight: Celebration (The Forgotten Stage)

This is where most people drop the ball. Having completed one of life’s most demanding emotional journeys, they simply… move on. They miss the crucial opportunity to consolidate the learning, reinforce the new neural pathways, and honour the incredible work they’ve done.

Each of these stages deserves attention and respect. The journey through forgiveness isn’t linear; you might circle back through stages, and that’s perfectly normal. But the celebration? That’s non-negotiable.

How Forgiveness Changes Everything: The Ripple Effect

When you forgive, you don’t just free yourself from the prison of resentment, you fundamentally alter your relationship with the world. This has implications far beyond your individual wellbeing.

Research in positive psychology demonstrates that forgiveness reduces stress hormones, lowers blood pressure, improves sleep quality, and strengthens immune function. These aren’t minor benefits; for busy executives and professionals already operating at maximum capacity, these improvements can mean the difference between thriving and burning out.

But the transformation extends further. When you model forgiveness, you give others permission to do the same. Your children watch how you handle betrayal and learn emotional resilience. Your team observes how you navigate conflict and learns that mistakes don’t define people. Your community witnesses your grace and remembers that redemption is possible.

I’ve written eight non-fiction books exploring divorce, loss, illness, and coping with change, Challenges and crises because I’ve seen firsthand how one person’s journey can illuminate the path for countless others. The 30-plus testimonials on my website aren’t just about individual transformations; they’re evidence of how personal healing ripples outward, touching everyone in its path.

Consider Elena from our earlier story. Her forgiveness of Marcus didn’t just free her from bitterness; it changed how she led her team. She became more patient with mistakes, more willing to have difficult conversations, more focused on solutions than blame. Her entire leadership style evolved because she’d done the internal work of forgiveness.

Your forgiveness journey, whatever form it takes, has the potential to be equally transformative, not just for you, but for everyone you encounter. That’s worth celebrating.

A Gratitude Practice to Sustain the Forgiveness Process

Each evening for the next seven days, write down three specific things you’re grateful for related to your forgiveness journey. These might include:

• The strength you discovered you possessed
• The people who supported you (even if they didn’t fully understand)
• The lessons you learned about yourself
• The damage you didn’t do
• The peace you now experience
• The freedom to move forward

This practice rewires your brain to associate forgiveness with positive outcomes rather than just the painful process.

Further Reading: Four Unconventional Books on Forgiveness

1. “The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness” by Simon Wiesenthal – A Holocaust survivor’s meditation on whether some things are unforgivable. I include this because it honours the complexity of forgiveness and doesn’t offer easy answers.
2. “Forgive for Good” by Dr Fred Luskin – Based on scientific research at Stanford University, this book provides evidence-based techniques for forgiveness. I appreciate that it treats forgiveness as a learnable skill rather than a personality trait.
3. “Left to Tell” by Immaculée Ilibagiza – A Rwandan genocide survivor’s journey to forgive her family’s killers. This book demonstrates the extraordinary capacity of the human spirit and makes our own forgiveness challenges feel navigable by comparison.
4. “The Dance of Anger” by Harriet Lerner – While not exclusively about forgiveness, this book brilliantly explains why we must honour our anger before we can genuinely forgive. It’s the missing piece most forgiveness books ignore.

P.S. My book, “Embracing Change, in 10 minutes a day,” offers practical daily practices that support the forgiveness process by helping you navigate life transitions with greater ease and self-compassion.

Testimonial: Sarah’s Journey on the Camino

“I came to Dr Montagu’s Camino de Santiago walking retreat carrying three years of bitterness towards my ex-husband like a rucksack full of rocks. I thought I’d forgiven him, moved on, done the work. But during a storytelling circle with her Friesian horses, something cracked open. I realised I’d never actually congratulated myself for the forgiveness I’d already accomplished. I’d been so focused on what still hurt that I couldn’t see how far I’d travelled. Dr Montagu helped me understand that celebration isn’t self-indulgence; it’s completion. On the final day of the retreat, I stood on a hilltop in southwest France and literally applauded myself. It sounds ridiculous, but it was one of the most powerful moments of my life. I finally felt free.” – Sarah M., Management Consultant, London

FAQs: What You’re Really Asking About Forgiveness

Does forgiving someone mean I have to reconcile with them?

Absolutely not. Forgiveness is internal; reconciliation is external. Forgiveness means you’ve released the emotional charge around what happened. Reconciliation means re-establishing a relationship. You can forgive someone and never speak to them again. You can forgive and maintain firm boundaries. Forgiveness doesn’t require you to be naive or to put yourself back in harm’s way.

What if I’ve forgiven someone but still feel angry sometimes?

That’s completely normal. Forgiveness isn’t a permanent state of zen. It’s more like a direction you’re moving in. You might have moments where old anger flares up, especially if you encounter triggers. This doesn’t mean you haven’t truly forgiven; it means you’re human. The key is that the anger no longer dominates your emotional landscape or controls your decisions. “Emotional forgiveness is much harder and takes longer, as it’s common for those feelings to return on a regular basis,” says Dr. VanderWeele, co-director of the Initiative on Health, Religion, and Spirituality at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “This often happens when you think about the offender, or something triggers the memory, or you still suffer from the adverse consequences of the action.”

How do I know if I’ve actually forgiven someone or if I’m just suppressing my feelings?

Suppression requires constant energy to keep feelings pushed down. True forgiveness brings a sense of spaciousness and ease. Ask yourself: Can I think about this person or situation without my body tensing up? Am I free to talk about what happened without needing to make them the villain? Do I wish them ill or am I indifferent to their situation? Suppression feels heavy; forgiveness feels light.

Is it possible to forgive too quickly?

Yes. Rushed forgiveness is often spiritual bypassing, a way of avoiding the difficult emotions that need to be processed. Genuine forgiveness can’t be forced or hurried. If you’re pushing yourself to forgive because you “should” or because someone else expects it, you’re not actually forgiving, you’re performing forgiveness. Give yourself permission to move through the stages at your own pace.

Should I tell the person I’ve forgiven them?

It depends entirely on the situation and your motivations. Ask yourself why you want to tell them. Is it to free yourself from the need for their response? Is it to restore a relationship? Is it because you think it will help them? Sometimes sharing your forgiveness can be healing for both parties. Other times, it reopens wounds or creates expectations that aren’t healthy. The forgiveness itself doesn’t require their participation or acknowledgement.

Conclusion: The Standing Ovation

Here’s what I know after 20 years of working with stressed professionals and 15 years of walking the Camino de Santiago with people in transition: the hardest journeys are the ones nobody sees.

You’ve climbed a mountain that has no summit marker, run a race with no finish line tape, completed a transformation that leaves no visible scar. You’ve chosen peace over bitterness, grace over grudges, freedom over being right.

And you did it without a roadmap, without a cheering section, without any guarantee that it would work.

That deserves recognition. Not from me, not from the person you forgave, not from anyone else. It deserves recognition from you.

So here’s your permission slip: Stop waiting for someone else to notice. Stop minimising what you’ve accomplished. Stop moving immediately to the next challenge without pausing to honour this one.

Take a moment. Pour yourself that glass of wine or that perfect cup of tea. Stand in front of a mirror if you need to. And say the words out loud: “I forgive you, and I’m proud of myself for doing the work.”

You’ve earned it.

As the poet Maya Angelou so perfectly expressed: “It is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.” But I’d add this: another great gift you can give yourself to acknowledge that you’ve done it.

Congratulations. You’ve done something remarkable.

Your Next Step: The Inner Camino Experience

Imagine standing on a hillside in the sun-drenched southwest of France, the Pyrenees mountains magnificent in the distance, your feet on an ancient pilgrimage path that has witnessed a thousand years of transformation.

You walk sections of the historic Camino de Santiago, yes, but you’re not just covering physical distance, your’re traversing the internal landscape of personal growth.

Each day combines mindful walking through stunning French countryside with practical stress management tools drawn from my 20 years as a medical doctor specialising in stress-related conditions. We practice meditation and mindfulness exercises that calm your nervous system and create space for genuine peace. And perhaps most powerfully, we gather in storytelling circles with my Friesian horses, majestic beings whose quiet presence helps us access truths we’ve been carrying but haven’t yet spoken.

These aren’t ordinary retreats. They’re carefully crafted experiences where forgiveness is not just discussed but embodied. Where your achievements are witnessed and celebrated. Where you finally get the recognition and support your journey deserves.

The southwest of France provides the perfect backdrop for this work: rolling green hills, medieval villages, paths worn smooth by millions of pilgrims seeking their own answers. The slower pace, the absence of daily demands, the beauty of the landscape itself, it all conspire to help you finally breathe.

You’ve done the hard work of forgiveness. Now it’s time to consolidate that achievement, to integrate your learning, and to step fully into the next chapter of your life, whatever that might be.

Click Here to discover dates, programme details, and everything else you need to know about joining us.

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Dr Margaretha Montagu is a medical doctor (MBChB, MRCGP), NLP Master Practitioner, Medical Hypnotherapist, and Life Transition Coach with 20 years of experience helping professionals manage stress and navigate life’s challenges. She is the author of eight non-fiction books and has guided hundreds of people through transformative experiences on the Camino de Santiago.

References

Mróz J, Kaleta K. Forgive, Let Go, and Stay Well! The Relationship between Forgiveness and Physical and Mental Health in Women and Men: The Mediating Role of Self-Consciousness. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2023 Jun 26;20(13):6229. 

Feng Gao, Yuanwei Li, Xuejun Bai, Forgiveness and subjective well-being: A meta-analysis review, Personality and Individual Differences, Volume 186, Part B, 2022, 111350, ISSN 0191-8869