Dear Kier - Entry II

First, thank you, Symphony, for sending this in, for reading my little corner of the internet, and for giving me permission to share your name and your question here. I think this is something I've been asked in different ways over the years, but I'm not sure I've ever really sat down and answered it properly.

Forgiving myself for my mistakes genuinely took a lot of time.

I don't think there was ever one moment where I suddenly decided, "Okay, I forgive myself now," and everything that came before me stopped hurting.

It was much slower than that...and I mean, MUCH slower.

There are things I've done that I can remember clearly now, but I can't always connect to the person who did them anymore. The memory is there, but the feeling attached to it isn't nearly as strong as it once was.

In the first few years after some of my mistakes, the guilt and remorse were incredibly present. I could replay things over and over again. I would think about what I should have done differently, what I shouldn't have said, where I shouldn't have gone, or the decisions I wish I could take back.

And obviously, I can't.

Eventually, I had to stop asking what I would change about the Kier who made those mistakes and start looking at the Kier sitting here now.

Would she make those same choices? For so many of them, the answer is no.

And I think that has become one of the biggest ways I've learned to forgive myself.

Because if I can look back at something I did and know wholeheartedly that I wouldn't make that same choice today, then I have to allow that growth to count for something.

I've always learned my lessons the hard way. Sometimes I've even had to learn the same lesson more than once. Not something I'm particularly proud of, but it's the truth.

I've spent a lot of my life wishing I could erase certain mistakes. Now, I try to thank them for what they've taught me instead.

That doesn't mean excusing them...and please remember, that's an important distinction.

Forgiving yourself doesn't mean pretending you didn't hurt someone, make the wrong decision, or behave in a way you're not proud of. Accountability and forgiveness can exist at the same time.

I can say, "I shouldn't have done that."

I can apologize.

I can make amends where I'm able to.

I can learn from it.

And I can also decide that I don't deserve to spend the rest of my life punishing myself for something I can no longer change.

I think that's probably where most of my forgiveness has come from.

As for your second question: yes, I have had nightmares. I still struggle with them from time-to-time.

There was actually a period of my life where I struggled with night terrors, and they mostly surrounded one particular era of my life. I've learned over the years that when they start happening, I need to check in with myself.

What's going on in my life right now?

How am I actually doing mentally?

Am I overwhelmed?

Am I avoiding something?

Have I been taking care of myself?

Is there something happening consciously that might be stirring something up subconsciously?

Sometimes I can connect the dots almost immediately. Other times, I wake up thinking, "Where the hell did THAT come from?" And I've had to learn that I don't always need an answer.

Our minds hold onto things in strange ways. Sometimes something I thought I'd completely moved past makes an appearance in a dream years later.

But I don't see that as proof that I'm back there anymore. That's probably one of the biggest differences between who I was then and who I am now.

A memory isn't the same thing as reliving it.

A nightmare doesn't mean I'm going backwards.

And remembering the person I used to be doesn't mean I'm still her.

I think forgiving myself has ultimately been less about forgetting my past and more about allowing the person I've become to count for something.

I can't go back and give an old version of myself everything I know now.

I can't change what she did.

I can't change what happened to her.

But I can decide what I do with everything she taught me. Maybe that's the closest I've come to forgiveness.

Not forgetting.

Not excusing.

Just finally allowing myself to keep going.