Keeping It Real

Hold onto your hats because a new perspective is afoot.

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Here’s something most spiritual teachers won’t say out loud:

Many of us did things in our past that quietly harmed the people who loved us.

Not because we were evil. Not because we were malicious. But because we were young.

Confused. Wounded. Or simply unconscious.

And sometimes the people who loved us most ended up carrying memories of our mistakes right alongside us.

That’s not an easy truth to face. But healing rarely begins with easy truths. So today, I want to talk about something we almost never discuss in spiritual circles — the quiet responsibility we carry for the memories we co-created with the people in our lives.

The journey toward freedom—toward enlightenment, joy, and being fully expressed—is rarely a straight line. It is riddled with ebb and flow, ups and downs, moments of clarity followed by moments of confusion. It is about learning how to navigate the hard stuff.

That has certainly been true in my life. And if we’re being honest, it may be true in yours too. No one arrives at the mature side of life without a few errors under their belt. (BE HONEST HERE)

If you were fortunate enough to grow up in a home where peace, emotional safety, and spiritual grounding were the foundation—good for you. Truly. Consider yourself blessed. Those environments exist, and when they do, they are powerful gifts.

But the statistics tell a different story for many people. A great number of us grew up in households where chaos was normal—domestic violence, alcoholism, sexual abuse, emotional neglect, or simply the quiet dysfunction of adults who were doing the best they could in an unskilled way with very little awareness.

If that wasn’t your experience, you are fortunate.

But if you are listening to me right now and your childhood or early adulthood was a little more complicated—lean in. Because many of us took our souls on quite a ride through our twenties, thirties, and even our forties.

And along that ride, we made mistakes. At least I did.

Sometimes those mistakes were private. Sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes we asked people to keep secrets. Sometimes the secrecy was simply implied. And sometimes the people who loved us ended up witnessing behaviors that were not our finest moments.

And here is the realization that has been slowly dawning on me as I mature and, hopefully, grow a little wiser:

There were people in my life who were harmed—not always by direct action, but by being pulled into the orbit of my confusion. They unwittingly became my accomplices. There were people who watched me when I was not well. People who saw me making choices that were not aligned with my highest self.

And I assumed they were okay with it.

“One of the hardest truths of adulthood is realizing that some people loved us enough to stay—but not enough to stop us.”

Years later, I discovered something that stopped me in my tracks.

Some of those people were horrified. They weren’t agreeing with me. They weren’t comfortable with what was happening.

They simply loved me too much to say anything.

Or perhaps they didn’t know how.

And that realization has humbled me.

Because I now recognize that some of the memories people carry about me include moments when I was acting out of my own wounds, confusion, or immaturity. Some of it was downright ugly.

Moments where my behavior may have pulled them into something they would never have chosen for themselves. So let me say something out loud here in March of 2026.

To anyone in my life who was placed in that position:

I am sorry. I am sorry that my behavior involved you in experiences or memories that may have been uncomfortable, painful, or even toxic. I am sorry that you had to witness parts of my life that I myself had not yet grown beyond.

But I also want to explore something deeper here, because healing is rarely one-sided.

Some of those moments were co-creations. Not because the responsibility for the action belonged to anyone else—but because silence creates complicit acquiescence.

While it may have been my behavior, no one called me out. And I understand why. Love often makes confrontation difficult.

But I also recognize that I have done the same thing in my own life.

There were times when I watched someone I loved behave in ways that were not aligned with their integrity—and I said nothing.

I didn’t hold them accountable.

I didn’t challenge them.

I didn’t interrupt the pattern.

And in that silence, we too co-created a memory.

Are you following me here?

THINK: GOVERNMENT – POLITICS - THE WHITE HOUSE. They all choose to be silently complicit rather than holding their colleagues to a higher standard of integrity.

When we are young, we often surround ourselves with people who love us deeply—but who may not yet know how to hold us to a higher standard. So instead, we mingle in the same energy. We normalize behavior that later, with more maturity and awareness, we realize wasn’t our highest expression.

And years later, those moments live in the shared memory between people. Sometimes awkward, painful, scarring, shameful, or simply unfinished.

So today, I want to say something very simple.

I apologize. I apologize to anyone who was harmed by being included in parts of my life that were not aligned with who I truly am. I apologize for any toxic memories that may have been co-created during seasons when I was still figuring myself out.

And if you recognize yourself in this reflection—if you can look back at your own life and see moments where your behavior pulled others into something less than your highest self—I want to invite you into something deeper than guilt.

Forgiveness.

Forgive yourself for the ways you were still growing. Forgive yourself for the seasons when you did not yet know how to do better.

“Maturity is the moment we stop defending who we were and start taking responsibility for who we became.”

Because here is the truth I live by now:

All of my errors live within my own mind, heart, and consciousness, so this will not lead to a public confession.

I’m not looking for approval or forgiveness from another—that is my job, that is my inside job. I’m here to live in quiet willingness to see clearly, to take responsibility, and to grow beyond the person I once was.

That is how healing happens. That is how we free ourselves from the past. And that is how we stop carrying toxic memories forward into the rest of our lives.

Over the years, I have come to see that forgiveness is not simply about forgiving others. Often the deepest work we ever do is learning how to forgive ourselves for the people we were before we knew better.

Let us forgive ourselves for the seasons when we were acting from pain instead of wisdom.

For the moments when we hurt people we loved simply because we had not yet grown into the person we were meant to become.

This is the kind of work I have dedicated much of my life to—helping people release the weight of the past so they can step back into their power, their joy, and their authenticity.

If this reflection stirred something in you, you might find my Forgiveness Workbook: A Guide to Emotional and Spiritual Freedom helpful as a companion on that journey.

And if you are ready to go even deeper, I occasionally lead guided forgiveness programs where we walk through this work together—with honesty, courage, and compassion. MichelleWadleigh.com

Because none of us came here to spend the rest of our lives haunted by the person we used to be.

“Self-forgiveness is not letting yourself off the hook. It is finally taking responsibility for healing.”

We came here to grow beyond them.