The fact that I was unable to keep my son alive weighs heavy on me. I knew Brady was at risk for suicide because he’d had a previous attempt. The three mental health professionals treating him agreed that he needed to go into a residential mental health treatment center. One of them said flatly, “If you don’t, you’re going to have a dead kid.”
For a variety of reasons that sounded good at the time, I, along with his mother, decided we would not do that. We’d keep him home and send him to intensive outpatient therapy. A month later, he was dead. His death happened at my home, while he was under my direct care and supervision.
I struggle to deal with this. Recently, I have gotten some comfort from thinking that, while it is apparently true that I made an extremely poor choice when faced with perhaps the most important decision of my life, it is also true that I am a human with limited information and understanding.
There is no question that I did the absolute best I could to help my son, with all the love and attention and energy I could muster. The fact that I failed is a reflection of the reality that I cannot control what goes on. I can do my best, and what happens happens.
Basically, I try to forgive myself. Other people have indicated that they have no problem forgiving me. Some say they would have made the same decision under similar circumstances. I find the compassion and forgiveness they offer me to be soothing. I am still pretty sure that unless I can find a way to forgive myself more completely, the rest of my life is going to be very unpleasant indeed.
Self-Forgiveness Research
With all this in mind, when performing my regular morning check of grief research I was interested to see a just-out study that examined self-compassion.
This study from the European Journal of Psychotraumatology focused on the role of rumination among people who had relatives who had gone missing. (Rumination is repetitive thinking as described in this post: When Thinking In Circles Can Actually Help (And When It May Not).)
The Dutch researchers guessed that the ambiguous loss experienced by relatives of missing persons might increase the risk of posttraumatic stress (PTS), prolonged grief (PG) and depression. They suspected that more ruminative thinking about the loss might lead to poorer outcomes for survivors. On forgiveness they said:
“A potential protective factor is self-compassion, referring to openness toward and acceptance of one’s own pain, failures, and inadequacies. One could reason that self-compassion is associated with lower levels of emotional distress following ambiguous loss, because it might serve as a buffer for getting entangled in ruminative thinking about the causes and consequences of the disappearance (‘grief rumination’).”
Basically, they suspected that self-compassion — which sounds the same as self-forgiveness — was likely to help with grief. The research was supposed to see if that was so.
The study looked at 137 relatives of long-term missing persons. Using self-reports, research measured each survivor’s levels of self-compassion, grief rumination, prolonged grief, depression, and posttraumatic stress. Then they analyzed the results to try to tease out the effects of self-compassion and rumination. They found:
“Self-compassion was significantly, negatively, and moderately associated with PG, depression, and PTS levels,” they reported. In plain English, being compassionate toward yourself — including forgiving yourself for your failures — appears to make it less likely you will suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, prolonged grief and depression after a loss.
Being compassionate toward yourself — including forgiving yourself for your failures — appears to make it less likely you will suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder, prolonged grief and depression after a loss.
They also found that people who showed more self-compassion did less ruminative thinking about the loss. And they suggested that mindfulness training could help strengthen this beneficial self-compassionate attitude.
More Forgiveness Research
After spotting these findings on self-compassion, I looked for more research on forgiveness and grief. I found a 2017 study published in Omega, a leading grief research journal, titled “Mothers’ Grief, Forgiveness and Posttraumatic Growth After the Loss of a Child.”
For this one the researchers gave 60 Slovakian bereaved mothers grief assessments similar to the ones described in this post: Yes, You Can Measure Grief and Here’s How. Posttraumatic growth was assessed with the Posttraumatic Growth Inventory,
To assess the mothers’ forgiveness they used the Enright Forgiveness Inventory. This is described as a 60-question assessment of “the degree to which a person forgives another person, group or entity that has hurt him or her deeply and unfairly.”
Here’s what the study found:
“The results showed a negative association between forgiveness and grief and a strong positive association between forgiveness and posttraumatic growth, which was not moderated by the time elapsed since the loss.”
Translated into English, this means that the researchers found that mothers who forgave suffered less from grief and had more posttraumatic growth. And this didn’t depend on how long it had been since the death.
Mothers who forgave suffered less from grief and had more posttraumatic growth.
According to the researchers, this applies to the mothers forgiving themselves as well as forgiving someone else. So that’s another study suggesting self-forgiveness is likely to be helpful. There’s more.
A 2014 study from the Death Studies journal has the poetic title: Let me hear of your mercy in the mourning: forgiveness, grief, and continuing bonds. This is a play on a Psalm, number 143:8, with the difference that the Bible verse is referring to before noon, not after death.
After that beginning, like most research studies this one plunged into a thicket of arcane statistical concepts and psychological terms that can be hard for a layperson like me to decipher. However, as near as I can tell, the results suggested that those who scored high on forgiveness also tended to score low on symptoms of prolonged grief.
Those who scored high on forgiveness also tended to score low on symptoms of prolonged grief
These researchers defined forgiveness as getting rid of negative thoughts, feelings, and behaviors directed at an offender and developing positive thoughts, feelings, and behaviors directed at this same person. They added, “It is not the same as pseudoforgiveness, which is minimizing or denying the hurt.”
So that gives us some idea of what helpful forgiveness might look like. It’s not claiming you don’t hurt. It’s just not blaming someone else or yourself for what happened.
The authors also suggested some ways to boost forgiveness. The first they mentioned was, again, mindfulness.
They also suggested something called a reverse empty-chair exercise. The empty-chair exercise is from gestalt therapy. The patient (you) sits across from an empty chair and imagines someone — in this case, the lost loved one — is sitting there. Then you engage in a dialogue with the imaginary person. In a reverse exercise, you would play the role of your lost loved one and talk to yourself.
This might be helpful. I’m pretty sure Brady would tell me he forgives me, and that would likely ease my mind a good bit.
Grief Coping and Self-Forgiveness
All told, it seems likely to me that if I pursue self-forgiveness I am more likely to return to feeling like living sooner than otherwise, and with less suffering along the way. I am already practicing mindfulness by meditating daily. Perhaps I will try the reverse empty-chair exercise.
As always, I am reporting on my experience looking for evidence-based bereavement grief coping strategies. I do not intend to suggest that anyone must or should implement self-forgiveness, mindfulness or any other strategy. It’s just something you could think about, if you’re of a mind to. If not, that is fine with me. Different strokes for different folks.
Thanks for reading, liking, commenting, sharing and following Grieve Well. I am sorry for the losses that brought you here. And I hope you get some peace today.
Thanks, for sharing this. I struggle with the same guilt issue. I did what I thought was the best at the time, but in hindsight it was obviously not sufficient. As you say, we are only human and I normally do not have a problem admitting to my mistakes and failures. However, the consequence of the “failure” to not save my son is so big that it is not easy, if possible at all, to forgive myself. However, I think I am slowly accepting that it happened beyond my control and that it was not my fault, because I loved that boy so much I would have done anything within my means if I knew how to save him. I have never really grasped the concept of self-compassion, but I like the reference to “openness toward and acceptance of one’s own pain, failures, and inadequacies”. I do believe that mindfulness training can help in terms of being able to accept the thoughts of guilt without ruminating too much about it. I am working on it. It takes time, though.
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Ole, I don’t now if it’s even possible to overcome this. I am committed to try, however, because the future looks pretty dark if I keep feeling like this. One of the Facebook group commenters offered this link to a page with some exercises for self-compassion: http://self-compassion.org/category/exercises/
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I think this theory has merit. I lost my daughter to suicide, I do suffer from some PTSD but not like others I know. I don’t know that I have completely forgiven myself for not doing enough but at the same time I know I did all that I was capable of. In the end my daughters bipolar disorder won the war but I know we/she fought a good battle.
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Thanks, Picking. It is a hard road we have to walk. There may be harder ones. But this one is plenty difficult. I am very sorry for your loss. I hope you find some peace soon.
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I have some peace, thank you. I know my daughter is still with me and I know that her needing to end her pain wasn’t meant for me to carry. I hope you find peace too. 💕
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Thanks so much for writing this. I really needed it today. The first three paragraphs sound like something I could say about my experience. I struggle daily with the guilt and inability to forgive myself for not being a better parent, for not making the right decisions as a caretaker. Logically, I understand I did the best I could, but it seems like my emotions cannot follow through with what my mind knows. It just feels like I did something wrong and the feeling constantly resurfaces.
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My son took his life last July. It is a different life now, one with less light and joy. I still want my love to have been enough to keep him here, but it wasn’t enough. I am learning to hold life more loosely, including guilt and failure. I don’t know that I will ever leave them behind, but maybe I will to come to live with them less as tormentors and more as companions going forward.
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I hear you, Big. It is a strange world we live in now. Or maybe it is the same world but we are different. Anyway, hard times. Thanks for reading and commenting. I am sorry for your loss. Hope you get some peace today.
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Dear Mr Hendricks,
Thank you for outpouring your painful loss of your only son – it must have been devastating for your wife and yourself. I can’t imagine the depth of your grief. Thank you for your healing journey with self forgiveness.
I lost my sister in June 2013 to suicide. After a breakdown at her workplace, she was undergoing psychiatric care for some months; she alternated two weeks living in my home and my younger sister’s home. Her Dr said she was well enough to be allowed back to her own home. She had been home three weeks and her husband had reported she was beginning to fix her own meals, sit with them watching tv, etc. My two younger sisters had visited the day before I did. I was visiting with her the afternoon before she died. She was sharing a lot about her prayer life and reflections. But, the next morning, she jumped to her death from a couple of floors above her apartment .. and it was Mother’s Day weekend and we were to gather at my home for extended family meal and celebration.
None of us sensed this coming. We were shocked. Even angry. Angry with her. Angry with ourselves. Why didn’t we sense she was still high risk of suicide?
I lost my father in July 2016 to suicide. He had been in depression since he pre-retirement from work. He was supervised by a renown psychiatrist for years and on medication. He had been experiencing deeper spirals recent past years, and had to received ECT. He overdosed on his psychiatric meds in March 2016; while in hospital, he was administered 3 cycles of ECT during the 10 days there. I moved both my parents to my own apartment for 3 months, till her doctor said it was fine to let them return to their own apartment. We hired a domestic helper to assist my mom to keep watch over my father, and cater to their daily needs. Then on a very sad morning, my father jumped to his death from the back window of their kitchen.
None of us sensed this coming. I was bewildered. Disappointed. Frustrated. Loss for words. Numbed. We did all we could to make it safe for him, and my aging mother.
I found help myself from these tragic losses of loved ones, through pastoral counseling, and the Grief Recovery Method helped me complete all undelivered communication with my late sister and father. Part of the process was forgiving them and self forgiveness. I have moved beyond loss and grief to recovery.
I highly recommend you to this larger community at Grief Recovery Institute, if you have not already been in touch with them.
I have a Master degree in professional counseling; I counseled widows and children from loss and grief. In May 2016, I went for further training with the Grief Recovery Institute, and now practice as a Grief Recovery Specialist, helping grievers with all losses in life.
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Thanks, Joan. I am sorry for your losses. I have read about the Grief Recovery Method and it certainly looks like it is helpful for many people. Right now I’m probably most interested in cooking up my own approach to grief recovery by reading as much of the scientific research literature as I can stand and trying to figure out ways to implement it in specific behaviors. And it seems to be helping, or something does anyway. I’ve been considerably better since passing the anniversary of Brady’s death a month ago. I’m not sure why, but it is certainly a relief to not feel quite so horrible quite so much of the time. He’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I’m still here and I am starting to feel hopeful that someday life will seem more like it’s worth living. Thanks again. I hope you get some peace today. Best, Mark
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