Tough Talk Thursday: Struggling With Self-Forgiveness

There is a lot of talk, information, and self-help authors who speak on forgiveness. I touched on forgiveness in my Tough Talk blog post last week. I understand and work at forgiving those who I feel have "trespassed against me." I think that, for the most part, I have successfully forgiven those few individuals. I'm certainly not going to give them power over my life by turning into an angry, embittered person. However, what I struggle with, dear reader, more than anything, is self-forgiveness. This blog post may resonate with you as well. 

In 2019, our world blew up. I'm not talking about an M-80 going KA-BANG, I'm talking full-on nuclear explosion, complete with months of painful radiation burns, and years of radiation sickness. It was about as bad as it could get at many levels. Our family, as we knew it, was annihilated. I can't and won't go into detail about what happened because it isn't just my story to tell. Just know that whatever you can imagine, probably doesn't come close to it. I learned many hard lessons during that time. I learned who my people are and aren't. I found out that we live in a horribly broken world, there is no justice, systems are corrupt and broken, people are self-serving, and the all-mighty dollar is at the root of all agencies that are supposed to be put in place to help. When things get that bad, you find out who has your back. I learned the person I believed to be my ride or die could comfortably and coolly sit across from me at one of our favorite lunch spots and inform me she did not need anyone associating her with the situation. Ummm, yeah, how do you think I feel? So, there was a lot. 

However, today I want to focus on self-forgiveness. I don't believe I will ever forgive myself for my role in this situation. I don't deserve it. You see, I am the reason that the people I love got hurt. I will tell you that my refusal to listen to that little voice, you know the one I speak of, dear reader. Maybe you call it intuition, conscience, God, divine intervention, it has many names, but we all have it. I failed to listen when it told me to run, not get involved, not do the thing I was doing with the best of intentions. My pride, I can say that now, was the downfall of our family. I not only ignored that wise little voice, but I thought I knew better. I didn't want to be that person who walked away from someone who needed help. So, I did what I did. I chose what I chose. I fought the good fight and lost miserably. In the end, the people I love most were hurt, and I hate myself. 

I failed. I failed so many people. I couldn't undo the damage I didn't cause. I couldn't heal the wounds. I couldn't right a wrong. Instead, I made things a thousand times worse, and innocents were hurt. My very belief system was rocked to its core. I believed that goodness would overcome darkness. I believed love would heal. I believed the right environment would undo the damage done. I believed sheer love and willpower could turn everything around. Oh, was I wrong. 

I learned the hard way that some things can't be fixed, some bombs can't be diffused. These bombs are going to go off no matter how hard you work to dismantle them. These bombs are not going to implode, oh no. These bombs are going to create as many casualties as they can. Bombs have one mission: destruction. When that bomb went off, it sent our world into a billion little pieces. 

I am the reason that bomb was brought into our lives. I look back and think about all the what-ifs. What if I had gone with my instinct and not answered that fateful phone call? What if I had been brave enough to listen to that little voice that told me not to do this? What if I had taken measures as soon as vital but well-hidden information was brought to light? What if I had fought the system? 

I always want to do the right thing. At the time, I felt the right thing was to do what I had to do, take the knocks, and put it behind us as quickly and quietly as possible for all involved. We performed triage on those wounded. We slowly put the pieces of our lives and ourselves back together. We went into damage control mode and saved who we could. 

The good news: we survived the blast. We have scars, but we made it. We're intact. We did everything possible to ensure that those we love are complete and healthy. That is a battle I won. However, it does not escape me that if I had listened to that little voice, we would have never been exposed to that bomb and never fought that battle. 

I don't know how to forgive myself. I've counciled about it. Of course, they tell you it's not your fault, you couldn't have known, your not to blame. It all falls on deaf ears. You can't make yourself believe something you don't feel. Nobody will convince me otherwise. It is my burden to bear and its a heavy one. I have no advice or insight on how to forgive yourself. I know what I would tell a friend if they shared this with me. However, it doesn't apply to me. 

I tried to do good, I failed, people I love got hurt. There's nothing else to say. It was my choice that brought this upon us. The most valuable lesson I have learned is to trust that little voice. Trusting that voice is what I preach. I'm unsure where it comes from, but I'm certain it is correct. The past several years have been spent trying to tune into that voice, to make it louder and more clear. If you get nothing else from this blog, listen to that little voice. Trust your instincts. If something feels off, don't be afraid to speak up. Who cares who judges you. In the end, you have to live with yourself and your choices. Choose wisely. 

On this cold and blustery December Thursday, stay safe, be smart, trust that little voice inside you, and keep washing your hands.