The regret wasteland

I failed to protect my younger daughter. It's that simple. And that devastating.

Starting when she was 5, she was abused at her dad's house. I trusted him completely, so I overlooked the signs.

Her childhood trauma surfaced in her early 20s. Her entire life imploded. When I found out why, I was shocked to my core, completely numb for a few days.

Then regret, guilt, and shame hit me like a tidal wave.

I replayed everything I missed.

I told no one except my partner.

I mentally flogged myself red raw.

Then I started trying to fix her life. Cleaning her apartment. Stocking her freezer. Driving her to appointments. Taking out garbage, running errands, walking dogs. Morning calls to make sure she got up.

For over a year, I did everything imaginable to atone for my failure.

But nothing erased the past.

Regret hides deeper feelings

Obsessing over my failure and trying to make her life work again left no space for anything else.

Eventually I realized my frantic fixing wasn't sustainable.

The moment I slowed down, grief mashed me to a pulp.

For the future her I'd imagined. Her brilliant, effervescent spirit. The magic behind her childhood nickname, Twinkie Maybelle. Her utterly unselfconscious way of moving through the world. The innocence of her childhood, tainted.

I'd grieved enough in my life to know the only way through is to open yourself to the pain of loss. Which feels unbearable until you start feeling it.

Regret prevents acceptance

I began accepting the consequences of her childhood trauma as her lifetime companions. Complex PTSD, dissociative identity disorder, and a nervous system that goes from fine to RED FUCKIN ALERT over minor bumps.

I started meeting her where she actually was, not where I wished she could be. Rebalanced our relationship by doing less and just being there more.

So I began finding moments of peace. Just moments at first. But more than I'd felt in a year.

Regret centers on the wrong person

I realized my regret was all about me. It kept me focused on my pain. On my own feelings.

Not on her. Not on what she needed. Or the other people in my life who deserved my full presence.

So I chose to stop harboring it. Not because everything "happens for a reason" or "works out for the best". This is toxic positivity and it reeks like a dead fish.

But because it kept me from being present with who she is.

How to find peace with the past

Here are the questions I asked myself and my answers. You can do this, too.

What do I feel? Shame and guilt about not acting on what I saw. Avoiding the hard questions.

Why did I do it? Brutal honesty: I was living on alimony from her dad. I couldn't afford to rock the boat.

Did I have the skills, opportunity, and awareness to choose differently? Yes. But I didn't have the character to do it.

Would I make the same choice now? Never in a million years.