I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately. Mostly this last year of my life and how much has happened, how much I’ve changed, and grieving all that depression seemingly took from me.

I’m in a much better space today. I feel better. I feel more confident. My self love is growing. It’s kind of incredible actually when I consider how I was feeling only a year ago. Really only a few months ago. It has taken me a lot of time, grace, and work to get to where I am today. But I am so incredibly grateful for all of it.

But what has continued to linger for me is the concept of forgiving myself for that time in my life. Forgiveness in any respect can be challenging. I have learned to forgive others whether we had closure or an apology. But forgiving myself? That has proven to be the most challenging.

It’s not like anything truly bad happened while I was deep in depression and anxiety. But I wasn’t “performing” to the capacity I knew I could. I feel like I let everyone around me down. I felt like I failed.

These are strong descriptors, and I am very aware of the words I’m choosing to use. Deep down I don’t believe that I have failed. I know that I was in a state that didn’t allow me to truly be myself. And I have grace for the girl that was just trying to survive each day and learning and growing along the way.

But I don’t think I have quite learned how to forgive her.

I have a lot of shame for the girl I was this last year. I’m embarrassed for her. I’m ashamed of her. Honestly, I’m probably disappointed in her.

But if I were thinking of anyone other than myself, I would never think these things about them. I would never be ashamed, embarrassed, or disappointed in someone who was just trying survive, no matter how many mistakes ensued along the way. I’d have compassion for them. I’d remind them how loved they are. I’d remind them how human they are.

So then why am I judging myself harsher than anyone else? What’s the point? What’s the purpose?

There is none.

I made mistakes this last year. Looking back, I made more than I ever realized in the moment. But the reality is, whether I was depressed or not, I would have made mistakes. Because I’m only human and making mistakes is the only way we learn.

I’m not sure I’m quite ready to forgive who I once was. But I really want to. I want to forgive her for all she wasn’t able to do. For all those she let down. For letting herself down. For struggling every day and barely keeping it together. For not realizing how much her depression and anxiety were truly effecting her. She is loved at her lowest, at her worst, and that is enough.

I may feel better, but I can guarantee that I will make mistakes this year. I just hope that I will have as much grace for her as I would anyone else. That I would learn from the mistakes rather than shaming myself for them.

While I may struggle to forgive my past self for everything I see in the lacking. I am also so incredibly proud of her. For getting the help she needed when she needed it. For not completely isolating when she could have. For continuing to grow and learn and change. For fighting for herself and her future. For staying here. For making me into who I am today.

And if I am that proud of her, then maybe I can forgive her for everything else.