Something I felt lead to share about myself...

I want to share a part of myself that I haven’t really shared with too many people. It’s about my guilt for something that wasn’t my fault and my hatred of myself because of it.

It has to do with my mother.

As many of you know, my mother died from cancer about a year and a half ago. It hurt me more than I can put into words, but that wasn’t the only thing that hurt me then.

For most of the two years she was sick, I was my mother’s main caretaker. And I had to do a lot for her, but I enjoyed every moment because it brought us closer than we had ever been before. Every moment I was serving her or helping her, we were talking or praying or singing or just acting goofy. We worked together on a Relay for Life team and every meeting we would go out together beforehand and get dinner and talk for hours. I loved those moments.

Then, when I was coming home from Guatemala, my dad called me. He told me that my mother had died. I was only an hour away from home. And I cried. Herder than I ever have. I wasn’t mad at God, though. Not at all. I was mad at myself. I felt like it was my fault, because it had been my job to take care of her.

You failed her.

You just weren’t good enough to take care of her.

Those were some of the thoughts that plagued me when I found out. I blamed myself, even though there was literally nothing I could do.

And then the realization that I never got to say goodbye came. I didn’t even get to see her before she died, because I was off doing what I wanted to do. I hadn’t seen my job as caretaker through until the end.

I know these thoughts are foolish. She had told, practically ordered, me to go. She knew it was where I was supposed to be.

She told me to go, and didn’t tell me how bad things actually were going. She knew she might never see me again, and yet she told me to go. Because she knew that was where God wanted me.

I remember the day I left, she had been in the hospital and one of her best friends was there to see her daughter and me off. She started crying when she came and give me a hug. I didn’t know that she knew as well.

Every day I regret not being there when my mother died, even though I know I was where I had needed to be.

In my head, I keep telling myself these things.

It wasn’t your fault.

There wasn’t anything you could have done.

You were where you needed to be.

And in my head, I know these are true, but in my heart, I still have this deep loathing for myself. I know it’s not how I should feel, but I just can’t convince myself

Out of all my sinful thoughts, this one is probably the hardest to get rid of. It doesn’t matter if I push it away or ignore it, it’s still there, lurking in the back of my head, ready to strike whenever my emotions are on edge.

I know that I should not blame myself for this or hate myself, but I don’t know how to move past. I don’t even know why I felt lead to share this with everyone.

Bus at the same time, I know I can’t keep it inside forever.

Thanks for reading, and to all those who have stayed close to me the last couple years, I am so grateful for your support.