When the Mist Clears: Releasing the Guilt That Was Never Mine

This post continues the journey from my previous entry, "When the Waves Finally Hit: Uncovering the Buried Pain." If you’ve been following along, you know that the first wave was a revelation, a profound realization of how a single moment from my past had shaped the person I became. It was the moment when I finally saw how much of my outer persona was crafted out of necessity, to protect myself from the deep wounds that moment inflicted. But there’s more to this story. When I left off, I had just touched upon a second wave, a deeper layer of understanding that has since opened the door to even more profound healing.

The evening after I wrote that post, I stumbled upon a video on Instagram. It was about how different parts of our bodies can store unprocessed emotions. While this concept wasn’t new to me, I’ve always believed that our bodies hold onto what our minds can’t fully process, something about this particular video struck a chord. The speaker mentioned that lower back pain, something I’ve struggled with for years, is often associated with carrying guilt.

At first, I was puzzled. Guilt?

I couldn’t immediately think of any significant guilt I was holding onto. Sure, I’m no saint, but I’ve never seen myself as someone who harbored deep guilt. I’d always attributed my lower back pain to a physical incident, a time when I was thrown off a horse in Illinois in the '90s, not to some unresolved emotional burden. So, I let the thought drift away and went to sleep.

But the next morning, as I walked with my husband on a trail, something shifted. The mist was lifting softly from the ground, and the sun filtered through the heavy canopy above us, creating an ethereal realm that invited a deeper communion with our spirits. It was as if the universe was gently showing us the last whispers of summer as they departed. The moment felt otherworldly, a quiet stillness that hinted at something more, like the calm before a storm. As we continued to move through the mist, it hit me, like a wave rising from that mist, crashing over me with undeniable force.

Yes! I’ve been carrying immense guilt my entire life.

The horrifying guilt over that moment when my mother, in a fit of anger, threw me inside a non-working refrigerator when I was just a crying toddler. The guilt rooted in the belief that somehow, I was responsible for her losing her composure that day. That it was my fault she became so angry, that I deserved that terrifying punishment. This guilt has followed me, woven itself into the very fabric of my being, influencing how I relate to others and how I see myself. Every time something went wrong in my relationships, I defaulted to blaming myself, just as I did in that moment as a toddler.

This revelation dawned on me on the morning of the equinox, a day symbolizing balance, equal parts light and dark. Looking back, it feels symbolic. The equinox marks a turning point, a shift, and so it was for me. Realizing that I’ve been carrying guilt that was never mine to hold was the second wave, a wave that washed over me, taking with it the sediment of anger, denial, and self-blame that had settled deep within me for so long. None of it was mine to bear. None of it.

As we drove home after that walk, I cried. I cried so much in the car, as new, gentler waves of compassion for my journey began to emerge from my heart. This wasn’t just any cry; it was something sublime, even as I ugly cried. It felt as if, for the first time, I was able to release the guilt I had carried for so long, and in its place, compassion began to flow, compassion for the child I was, for the woman I’ve become, and for the journey I’ve been on. I have never cried in that way before, and in that moment, it felt like a necessary part of my healing. I also felt compassion for my mother, realizing that she has never allowed herself to shed the pains she carries, and how heavy that load must be for her.

This realization led to the creation of my song Not Mine to Hold. While Never Knew was about uncovering buried pain, Not Mine to Hold is about releasing it. Writing this song felt like a pivotal moment in my healing journey, a symbolic act of burning the sails of the old, unstable boat that had carried me through so many internal rough waters and storms. I honor that boat with deep gratitude, for it helped me navigate the tumultuous seas of my past, guiding me through the darkest nights when I was lost in an ocean of pain.

But now, I no longer feel the need to escape true connection by clinging to that boat, adrift alone in a sea of unresolved emotions. The sails that once caught the winds of my fears have been set ablaze, allowing me to stand tall on my own two feet, grounded and ready to face whatever comes next. This song is more than just a release; it’s a declaration of my newfound strength, a testament to my ability to anchor myself in the present, no longer a prisoner of the past.

Not Mine to Hold is my way of acknowledging that while the journey has been treacherous, I am no longer bound to that vessel of survival. I am stepping off the boat, standing firm on solid ground, prepared to embrace whatever the future holds with an open heart and an unwavering spirit. And in sharing this with you, I hope to encourage you to examine the vessels you’ve relied on, those old coping mechanisms that may have served you once but now keep you tethered to the past. It’s time to release them, to let go, and to embrace the strength that lies within you.

The journey isn’t easy, but with each wave that crashes over us, we’re brought closer to the shore, closer to that place of balance and peace, where we can stand tall with our feet firmly planted on solid ground. Not Mine to Hold is more than just a song; it’s an invitation to let go, to release, and to heal.

Thank you for walking this path with me, for sharing in this journey of revelation and release. Together, we are finding our way to the shore.

☥