Maybe something she and I have talked through can be useful to you. Maybe my old friend can offer you a little wisdom before yours arrives with a conversation you weren’t expecting.

I have this old friend named Memories.

She’s been around a long time, and bless her heart, she doesn’t always know how to read the room.

Sometimes she brings something sweet. A face I miss. A moment with my girls. Something funny I hadn’t thought about in years.

Other times, she shows up with the good, the bad, and the ugly, apparently determined that we’re going to discuss all three before I go to sleep.

She remembers things I wish she’d forget. Things done to me. Things I said. Moments when I didn’t know any better, and moments when I did.

For a long time, I didn’t want to sit with her. I was afraid every conversation would end with me feeling ashamed.

Lately, though, I’ve wondered if there are conversations I can have with her now that I couldn’t have before. I have more support. More understanding. A little more willingness to admit something uncomfortable without letting it become everything I believe about myself.

My younger self was trying to survive. I wish I could sit beside her and tell her she wouldn’t have to figure all of this out alone.

Maybe that’s part of why I’m writing now. There are people walking paths behind me, and some of what I’ve learned might help them find their footing a little sooner.

Have you ever replayed a conversation because something someone said hurt your feelings, then realized somewhere around the fifth replay that maybe there was some truth in it?

Well. I have.

I’ve also had the opposite happen. I’ve talked myself out of being hurt because I thought being understanding meant finding a good enough reason for how someone treated me.

I wish I’d known sooner how much room there is between those two things.

I can listen to someone without agreeing with everything they say about me. I can understand their pain without accepting the way they treat me. And I can admit I was wrong without deciding that everything about me is wrong.

That last one has taken some work.

I’ve been thinking about how shame can follow us into conversations that seem to have nothing to do with our past. Someone points out something we did, and suddenly we’re defending more than that one moment. At least, that’s how it can feel for me.

I want to explain. I want them to understand my heart, my intentions, what I was feeling, what happened before that. And sometimes those things matter.

But sometimes I’ve been so busy explaining why I reacted that I haven’t really listened to what my reaction did to someone else.

That’s hard to admit.

I know what it means to have been abused. I was a child who deserved protection, and nothing I did made that abuse my fault. Taking responsibility for my behavior today doesn’t change who was responsible for hurting me then.

I need to say that because admitting my own mistakes can feel like handing someone evidence against me.

Like if I admit I handled something badly, maybe everything I’ve ever said about being hurt will suddenly be questioned.

But I’m beginning to understand that I can tell the truth about both.

Someone hurt me. And there have been times when I’ve hurt someone, too.

Those truths belong to different choices, different moments, and the people responsible for them. I don’t have to scramble them together until I’m either innocent of everything or guilty of everything.

I can look at what actually happened. I can say, “You were right about how I spoke to you. I’m sorry.”

I can also say, “I’m willing to talk about my part, but I need us to do that without insults.” I wish I’d known I was allowed to do both. I wish I’d understood sooner that shame doesn’t help me repair much. It mostly makes me want to hide, defend myself, or replay the whole thing until I’m exhausted.

There’s a difference between sitting with the discomfort of what I did and spending days convincing myself I’m a terrible person. One gives me something to work on. The other leaves me stuck.

I want to get better at asking, “What needs to happen now?”

Do I owe an apology? Do I need to listen? Is there something I need to replace, repair, or do differently next time?

Sometimes…Do I need to stop apologizing for having a reasonable limit? Because that’s another part of this I’m working through.

I can have compassion for someone’s history and still decide that certain behavior cannot continue in my life.

Someone who leaves room for what happened to you and what you’re still learning. Someone who can help you face your choices without making you feel beyond love. I wish I’d known sooner that I could take responsibility without taking all the blame.

I know people carry things I may never fully understand. I know pain can affect how we love, how we argue, and what we hear when someone tells us no. My own life has taught me that.

But understanding someone’s past doesn’t mean I have to keep making room for behavior that hurts me.

I don’t want to keep carrying the shame of other people’s choices. I don’t want to spend my life trying to become lovable enough, agreeable enough, or useful enough to make someone treat me with care.

I don’t want to ask anyone else to do that for me.

If I want my boundaries respected, I need to respect theirs. Someone being unavailable doesn’t automatically mean I’ve been abandoned. Someone disagreeing with me doesn’t automatically mean they’re against me.

Sometimes they’re simply a person with their own needs, limits, and perspective.

My past may still come up. Someone else’s choices may still hurt. I won’t always respond as thoughtfully as I wish I had. When that happens, I want to come back to what is mine to do.

Of course, knowing that in a quiet moment and remembering it when my feelings are hurt are two separate accomplishments. 😂

So I’m practicing.

Trying to pause before I decide what someone meant. Trying to ask a question before I build an entire case in my head. Trying to notice when an old fear has joined a present conversation.

Also, trying to believe that I don’t have to punish myself to prove I’m sorry.

I think about my girls in all of this. I want them to know they can tell me when someone hurts them. I want to listen without brushing it off or explaining it away.

I also want them to know they can tell me when they’ve messed up. They don’t have to make themselves the person who did nothing wrong in order to be worthy of my love and help.

I hope I’m showing them that we can face something honestly and still be gentle with ourselves. We can apologize, accept a consequence, learn a different response, and keep going. I need that reminder as much as they do.

So here’s what I’ve been deciding for myself…I’m willing to face my past and the ways it still affects me. I’m willing to own what I’ve done. But I don’t want shame making my decisions moving forward.

Be honest. Ask for help. Make the repair. Hold the boundary. Then let myself have a life beyond that moment.

Now, when my old friend Memories visits again, I hope I can approach her with a little less fear. I can listen, take my time, and bring the hard things into therapy instead of trying to sort through every one of them alone.

Oh and if yours is already visiting…bringing up the shameful things, the painful things, the embarrassing things, I hope you have someone safe to sit with you. A therapist or a trusted person who can listen, allow you to be human, and help you work through what comes up.

I’m grateful I’m learning it now.  I hope that by sharing a little of my conversation with my old friend Memories, you’ll feel less alone if/when yours visits.

💕Steph