“angie” by Livia Czenki

What happens when you make a mistake, something so terrible, that you end up losing all that is good in your life, all that makes you happy, all that brings that burst of laughter from your throat like nothing else does? What happens when you screw up and you screw up too badly to be forgiven? What happens when it all goes, when it’s all gone?

I may not be forgiven, I know this.

How did any of this get started? It’s too easy to point at something near and recent — a bad day at work, health issues, the weather, anything at all — but it isn’t quite as simple to look at the roots. The origin. See, what is forgiveness when I may not even be able to forgive myself?

I have spent years trying to let go, and I haven’t done it yet. Not an ounce of memory, not a single blot of shame or smear of guilt. It all comes back, cos it’s always been there. Always been here, inside of me. It never lets go, cos I won’t allow myself to let go of it. I won’t forgive myself. I won’t accept forgiveness from those who have forgiven me; and when I ask for God’s forgiveness and mercy, would I even allow myself to receive it?

Why do I try so hard at perfecting everything? Perfect results at school, perfect career path, perfect bank account, perfect home, perfect relationships. And when I fail at them, as I have chosen to believe so all these years, it just tears me down. I feel small, I feel useless, I feel like I have not contributed anything to this world. That I have failed my parents, my sister and her kids, my friends, my boss and my colleagues and most of all, the one I love so much.

No, scratch that. Who could I possibly fail more than myself?

And the pattern repeats, seasons that cycle. Every time I try to get up again, I seem to pull myself down once more. I’m the engineer of my own destruction. I may have had excuses in the past: I was self-centred, I didn’t care about others whether they profited or suffered from my excesses and demands, I was impossible to live with. Yet even then, I was still loved. And now, even more so. I have no excuses. So why do I keep sabotaging myself?

I can sense the end coming even before I can see it.

Is it natural pessimism? Am I merely a manic-depressive, nothing particularly alarming, sirs and ma’ams? That I am bad for you precisely because I believe I am bad for you? Is that it? Because no matter how brightly the sun may shine, all I see is the dark clouds looming, ready to pour at any second?

Perhaps. Perhaps it’s that. But I do know I look out for the rainbow after the shower also. I know I believe in hope. I believe in second chances. I just pray this time, I’ve not gone so far that there are no more chances left for me. That God, and you, will still forgive me.

God has given me everything I need. It’s startling and very humbling to realize this, as I’ve spent so much time grumbling and complaining and moaning about not having enough. I have spent years thinking I’m not good enough. I read this in a book, and it just jumped out at me, “Whoever told you you weren’t good enough?”

Whoever said I had to be perfect? And do everything perfectly? And be in a perfect relationship, or else… Why did I allow myself such thoughts that, to be honest, have only brought me misery and pain so far? And while I expect so much of myself, and in being unable to stomach it, crumble beneath the rubble of it all, I don’t seem to be able to believe in my blessings.

I have received so much goodness in my life, more so this year than ever. I can begin to see the emergence of a person I can like and perhaps love: myself. Yet even as I count my blessings and thank God daily for them, I don’t seem to believe that such good things can happen to me. I doubt that they are really there and I fear daily their loss like a miser with his hoard of gold. No one told me that this gold can never be kept; it’s only for giving and receiving. I guess I didn’t believe well enough I deserve them to receive them properly with grace.

And this doubt, this terrifying fear, it’s not difficult to see that it isn’t because of anything around me but simply me: I don’t love myself enough to receive these blessings, in good faith, with quiet grace. In essence, by doing so, I’m throwing away God’s gifts to me. I am ungrateful though I give thanks daily. I am wasteful though I try to hold on to all of this as hard as I can. I am loved but unloved by the one who really should matter the most: myself.

And now I may have made a mistake terrible enough that I may not be forgiven. I may have gone too far in my self-loathing that someone else agrees with me finally. I may have fulfilled my own prophecy of tragedy. I certainly have spent enough time talking about how I keep fucking up my life; now I may have fucked it up for real.

Do any of you know what it feels like to fear losing someone, to lose their love and affection? What if one day that very fear may cost you exactly that? How foolish I feel, how truly stupid I have been.

There’s nothing I can do about that now. I have apologised and I have asked for forgiveness. Sometimes trust can be rebuilt, sometimes not. You can’t blame them, not when it’s your actions and your decisions that have painted this page.

What I can do, for myself, for I see the greatest tragedy of it all — that I have been depriving myself daily of love and joy that has been delivered to me from on high; what I can do is to begin to love myself. To learn how to do so. To stop giving my consent to other people to hurt me. To stop hurting myself most of all.

This time I will count my blessings and receive them in gratitude. I will stop feeling sorry for myself and I don’t have to do anything other than what I truly want to. No excuses, no justification, no blame. I may never be perfect but I will become a better man.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Offer me Your mercy and I will receive it this time.

Forgive me, my love, for I have hurt you, I have hurt us, I have hurt myself. Give me one more chance and I will spend the rest of our lives proving myself worthy of your trust again. I love you, more than the sun and the stars and the moon.

And from now on, I will love myself too. I forgive myself.