Personal Essay - Unforgiven

Some days I am not a work in progress. Some days I am a rebel. A child throwing a tantrum. A runaway train.

Some days I'm antisocial. I'm unproductive. I'm lazy.

Some days I am NOT moving forward with grace, instead I am being dragged kicking and screaming. And some days I am sliding stealthily backwards into the comfort of my memories.

Some days I am NOT keeping the faith. Instead - I throw it out the window of my moving car. Some days I am NOT fighting the fear. Instead I am taking it out to dinner, and then for cocktails, and then back to bed and letting it whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

Some days I am not the best version of myself. I am green with envy, crimson with rage, blinded by lust. I am chocolate and vodka.

And on those days, I am every bit as powerful as I am on others, and I do NOT use my powers for good. I am Lex Luthor. The Sheriff of Nottingham. Cruella Deville. Captain Hook.

I am not my best self every day. Some days I am my bad self, and sometimes, those are the best days of all.



Taken during my trip to Switzerland

I wrote this some time ago as I was considering a conversation I was having with a friend about self-forgiveness. It came out of the fact that over the years, I have found it harder to make certain decisions, instead feeling overwhelmed with the choices, and “doing research”. One such recent (ongoing) problem has been my little blue car which has served me well, but which is struggling at the moment, and I am surrounded by advice about what to do with it, and every time I think I have made one decision, there seem to be ten more to make. When I was telling my friend how much I struggle with making decisions, I confessed to her that I was afraid of making the “wrong” decision - something I have definitely done before. And while I can honestly say that I try to spend immense amounts of time focusing on the lessons that have come from these decisions rather than the mistakes I feel like I made (like writing this blog for example), the weight of the unwanted and unexpected consequences makes me agonize over many of my decisions these days. 

My friend was kind enough to remind me of something that I have known to be true for a while - things almost never go according to plan - even when the plans and decisions are good. She also reminded me that no matter how well I research, there will be information that I don’t have. She reminded me that I am constantly changing as a person and it is reasonable that the person I am now will question decisions that the person I was 5 or 10 years ago made - as I was a different person then. And she asked me to consider forgiving myself.

In truth, I was resistant to the idea when she mentioned it, but I couldn’t quite understand why. But over the course of the next few weeks, the idea kept putting itself firmly in front of me, until the day that I wrote the poem above, and I began to understand why I have such resistance to the idea of self-forgiveness. The reality is that I associate forgiveness with doing something wrong. And in my mind the concept of self-forgiveness is tied to the idea that there is something wrong with me, and it is that wrong part of me that I have to forgive. That part of me that should have known better. That didn’t get all of the information. Or that simply went along with the easy way rather than the right way. That spent an extra hour in bed. Or that stayed out late watching a movie or reading Harry Potter when I should have gone to bed on time. That ate the extra piece of cake. And when faced with the idea of forgiving myself for these things, there was a part of me that rose up - and that refused to be forgiven, because that part of me wants to remind me that there is nothing “wrong” with me. Not because I am perfect, or because I will never make bad decisions, but because I am simply human, and some days - I will not be a work in progress.

I realized some years ago that this was something I struggled with when it came to Christianity and my own faith. My mind was at odds with the idea that God doesn’t make mistakes, that I was “fearlessly and wonderfully made”, but also that the very humanness I was created with made me sinful and deserving of death - a death which someone else took on for me with grace. I feel like it caused me to shame myself for my humanity, somehow believing that I was broken. I felt like there was a war going on inside of me. It drove me to feel like I needed to have ultimate control. The idea of self-forgiveness felt like another task I needed to complete so that I could pardon the parts of me that weren’t perfect, just as I was hoping that God would do. And the shame was there to remind me that I was striving to eventually be that perfect person, even if I probably wouldn’t make it until I died and went to heaven. I didn’t know if I could wait that long to stop fighting myself.

And so on the day I wrote this poem, I decided to call a truce. I decided that - at least for the moment - there will be no pardon. Instead, I choose to accept all of me - including the side of me that is rebellious; that is not doing the right things; that is not perfect, but that is perfectly human. I choose to realize that some days she will be the one with the steering wheel, and on those days we probably won’t get to where we are supposed to be going (and if we do, it definitely won’t be on time!) And I choose to be ok with that - even if it feels like it sometimes gets in the way of my lofty goals. 

I realize that I am way more comfortable with this idea of self-acceptance. Of accepting the part of me that refuses to grow up. That refuses to be good all the time. And that refuses to be forgiven. She has taken me on some of my wildest adventures, and these days, I could do with a few more of those. And so for now, she rides with me. I choose to accept it all. I choose to embrace those “some days” because sometimes - those really are the best days of all.

I would love your own thoughts on this. Are there parts of you that you have struggled to accept? Do you feel shame for not being the person you think you “should” be? And what are the so-called bad decisions you made which you have fond memories of? 

And I send you big love from a small island. 

PS and since I never get tired of watching the sunset, I have shared one above with you from last month.

PPS and the photo taken in Switzerland was one I took on one of those “somedays” when a series of ill-advised decisions led me to one of my most fun trips ever!