I actually sat down to write something else but it seems from those words, this one began to emerge organically as an off shoot and spontaneously, gained a momentum of its own. I often write like this when a feeling tugs at me and begs for my undivided attention. It’s the inner child in me begging to be seenand heard. My writing often moves with my emotional state and what’s coming up for me. Right now, as the tears are welling up and rolling down my face I know I need to to tend to this feeling, to tend to my inner child, and write what needs to be captured.
There’s a part of my life that I need to forgive. I often struggle with the F word, but self forgiveness I’m finding much easier these days; it’s important to forgive yourself, and I’ve been way too hard on myself for most of my lifetime so far. It’s the part of me that has been subject to self-condemnation and self-reproach for being a let down, berated for being a failure and for wasting 14 years of my life (from age 18 -32). It’s a part of me that’s carried the stinging and heavy pain of regret for not being who she should have been or could have been. Could’ve; would’ve; should’ve. So many trajectories lay undiscovered in the invisible ashes of the past that never was. This part of me wishes that I’d lived a life true to myself with the myriad of “what ifs” that surround it. What would I be right now if I’d had lived a life that was true to me and who I am? Who would I have become? What would life look like right now?
The pain body needs to be revisited and seen; the 18 year old me, the 20-something year old me, the unguided, misguided young woman who simply wanted to someone to take her under their wing, to fix her broken-ness and guide her: it is she who wants me to witness her right now. So I’m writing this for her: the young, impressionable, vulnerable, emotionally broken me, confused and betrayed who didn’t know how to make sense of her life when she embarked on adulthood at 18. Although little did she know she was an adult child, with a traumatised and dysregulated little girl trapped within, who grew up without any sense of normalcy, bleeding and screaming, calling the shots from the shadows from where life went sideways for her.
It’s her hand I’m holding, and taking her under my wing to show her that none of it was her fault.
Rather than sinking in the pain of regret or shame and berating this part of me, I want to replace it with loving release, with understanding, with compassion, with grace. I’m writing this for her, to exonerate her, to absolve her and in doing so to liberate her of any wrongdoing. I no longer blame her for the choices she made. Yes, I talk about her in third person because she’s alive in me, she’s still a part of me, but she’s also not me. By separating myself, I can forgive her as fragment of me so that it dissolves into me. I must remember that this part of me lived in fear for many years as well as having her heart shattered into a million pieces by surreptitious and wicked familial abandonment. When you’ve lived in fear like that, a part of you becomes that little bit more feral. It’s an animal part of you that can never be tamed in order to keep you safe and is always on guard, forever on the defence. I believe it’s that wild, feral part of me, combined with pain possession is what took her down the wrong roads, that meant she never fit in anywhere, who never felt like she belonged. Bitterness, anger, often rage, fear, jealousy, impatience, grief and depression are the emotions that dominated her back then, which fuelled the choices and trajectory. Underneath, I was painfully heart-broken, an emotional wreckage who searched for meaning in all the wrong places. And that could only ever lead to false belonging. Trying to build a life from the wreckage devoid of wisdom was a tough call for her.
Little girl, young lady, this is for you.
I forgive you, completely. Whole heartedly. I release you. None of it was your fault.
I understand why you were feckless with decisions back then, but I forgive you for that. I know you missed opportunities and veered off on meaningless tangents, but it wasn’t your fault. I know you followed Pied Pipers into dead ends and dry valleys, hoping for a break in life, for someone to give you a chance, to see the talents in you, but they didn’t. I truly and wholeheartedly understand why. I know you sold yourself short and chose inadequate men and inadequate jobs and I absolve you for wanting to find love and purpose, albeit in the wrong places. You didn’t know any better.
There was no other influence for you back then although I know you desperately tried to find it. It was you and Mum, on your own. There was literally no one else: no family, no friends. Just the two of you fending for youselves. Mum was depressed for years after the unholy trinity left like they did, leaving you both in a hostile place where you lived and you held it together for her, motivating her and inspiring her. The things that you wanted someone to do for you, you nobly did for your mum. You had an inner strength and was your mum’s driving force, encouraging her, pulling her forward; you never left her (as much as you often resented her). You forsook your life to make sure you didn’t abandon her too or leave her in any danger. You should be proud of that.
You were vulnerable and impressionable, at eighteen, drawn to the first shiny thing that promised success and fortune, attracted to them like a drunken magpie, thinking that it would be your ticket away from the life you were living. You didn’t follow the conventional route, much to the disdain and contempt of your mum. You only did what you thought might help you both. You thought you’d ‘make it’ whilst you were still young. You never made any decisions that you thought were going to be bad for you. You were hypnotised by ‘fake-it-till-you-make-it’ false hope, packaged with narcisissitic charisma and regular motivational hot baths. It was a fruitless mirage where success was reserved for the dogs who ate dogs and the cats who scratched each others’ backs. You were never dog-eat-dog. You were trapped in false belonging, heavy with the shame of being labelled ‘quitter’ and a ‘failure’ which kept you where you were. I know you had no sense of self, cut off from your true essence. How were you supposed to know how battered you were internally by the trauma you endured for so many years? How were you supposed to make decisions when you were in a state of constant survival? You didn’t know what thriving meant. How could you have intuited who you were when you’d already abandoned yourself completely years before? I know you were simply desperate for some support and loving kindness. Even when your body was screaming a resounding NO, you overstayed in places where you didn’t belong, falling into pits and pot holes. I know all you wanted was a better life for you and mum, and it wasn’t your fault that you allowed others to manipulate and misguide you. You were confused, naive and fragmented, and you simply didn’t know how to make sense of your life. It wasn’t your fault dear girl. It wasn’t your fault at all.
I know you desperately wanted to get away from the hovel where you and mum lived, and I know, ironically, that you made feckless choices that kept you where you were, but there’s no judgement on you, not at all. I absolutely understand why you did what you did and made the choices that you did.
Mum didn’t make enough money to get a mortgage so the onus was on you to change your lives. I know you were looking for a quick route to money, but you didn’t have the internal compass or external guidance you desperately wanted and one unguided decision led onto another. In desperate survival mode, the onus was on you to do something bigger with life and make more money. I know you got it wrong but people make mistakes and that’s okay. I forgive you. That is life and learning. And I know you eventually learned from that. You don’t have to beat yourself up any more about the choices you made and the mistakes you think you made. That’s life and living.
I know you’ve been so hard on yourself, heavy with regret over the years and wished you could have lived those years so differently, years that could have moulded you into a very different woman, that could have shaped yours and mum life so differently. Had you not have been through so much trauma, for so many years, what would life had been like for you? What would living have felt like in a body where the cells aren’t screaming? Maybe you’d have been so much more connected with yourself. Maybe you’d have been calmer. Maybe you’d have allowed yourself to flow from from that place and forged your life from that endlessly flowing river. I know you’ve felt a lot of guilt and regret for your life and the choices you didn’t make. But it’s time to let those feelings go completely. And may be you’d have been more conscious and deliberate about your life had you really looked inward or been nudged in a certain direction,
You are right here, right now and the path you took was perhaps for a good reason.
Creativity is a natural shaman for the soul, a healing tonic for the heart; maybe tuning into that could have healed you much sooner? But you’re allowing yourself to surrender to that now, aren’t you?
I want to tell you that none of it was your fault. It wasn’t your fault the trauma you endured, living in fear for many years, becoming your mum’s protector. It wasn’t your fault that you were emotionally broken at the hands of your own family. And it wasn’t your fault trying to navigate your life from the wreckage before you’d grown up, with no internal foundations whilst the quicksand and vortex and of unresolved pain swallowed you. How could you build yourself from the wreckage at eighteen when there was no pillow of wisdom from which to lean upon, internally or externally?
And is it any wonder you became possessed with your pain, broken by trauma and emotionally battered by the time you were thirteen?
These are my heart-felt words to you: I forgive all of the decisions you made. I absolve you. I release you from the painful prison of blame and shame. You can become who you always wanted to become. It’s time to come home to yourself and be who you always wanted to be….I set you free.
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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