Forgiving myself

I’ve been doing some writing and this story about forgiveness wants to be written now. My personal trauma work let me to this very important topic.

**Disclaimer: Please seek professional help if you are struggling. I’m just here sharing my own experience.**

Let me start by sharing how this story came about. I bought a book on December 23, 2022. It was a German crime novel that took place on an island in the North Sea. I thought it looked interesting. There might have been a lighthouse on the cover. There was nothing to indicate that it might contain a trigger of any kind. The story was well written, and I enjoyed reading it. Then there was this little boy. He was four years old and got blamed for his brother’s disappearance and subsequent death. Major trigger! Just how major I didn’t know at the time, but I was triggered.

Age: four

The funny thing about triggers is that you never know where/how they find you. In this case it reminded me of certain events that happened when I was between four and six. I realized that I was blaming myself for much of it. That little boy in the story was clearly way too young to take responsibility for anything that happened in his life at that time, but I in turn was most definitely to blame for everything that happened in my life when I was four. Our brain is weird that way. Realizing that a four-year-old can’t be held responsible for events in their lives was an important stepping stone.

A child’s perspective

Now, what happened next is what I wanted to share with you today. This all started about a year ago while I was on a long walk along the river Rhine. I suddenly started crying and seemed to remember this little boy telling me in kindergarten that my sister died because I had been naughty. I have no active memory of this, but it started a process. I somehow felt relieved that this had popped up.

Now with this renewed trigger and some more work on related trauma, I realized that I had this guilt internalized: I was the reason my sister died. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve known for decades that a genetic defect caused her death. I studied Genetics and knew that my parents had a 25% chance of losing a child to this genetic disorder. Four kids – one died the math works out perfectly.

So far so good, but now comes the important part. Every child aged five whose mother is pregnant is bound to bump into her baby bump at some point. A mom’s natural reaction might be “be careful, you don’t want to hurt the baby” or “you’re hurting the baby”. Normally, the baby is born, and they live happily ever after.

Now picture this … the baby is born, it’s not healthy and dies a few weeks later. Suddenly, those words take on a completely different meaning. I’m responsible for my sister’s death. I hurt her when she was inside my mom’s belly.

Forgiving myself

As a five-year-old this explanation made perfect sense. I had no other information at the time.

As a five-year-old I did not have the vocabulary to express my feelings, nor did I even actively know I was feeling guilty. I just wanted to run away and hide.

As a five-year-old I bottled up that guilt and kept as quiet as I could so people wouldn’t find out. Of course, I had no idea I was doing this either.

As a five-year-old I didn’t mourn my sister’s death. I didn’t really understand what was going on and I didn’t want to make my parents even sadder by crying.

© Charlie Mackesy - The Boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse.

Forgiving myself is an ongoing process. This is why Charlie Mackesy’s quote spoke to me so much. It’s not easy. Far from it.

I’ve been carrying this around with me for almost 43 years. And the decades’ worth of deep-rooted beliefs I held about myself need untangling. My story needs to be re-written.

Writing this very personal newsletter is part of this process. Thank you for reading it.

Notes:

Picture taken from Charlie Mackesey’s 2019 book The Boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse.

There is also a short film that has been nominated for an Oscar.