The Lie I’ve Been Telling Myself Since Chloe Died

There's always another truth to face on the path to rebuilding a meaningful life.

It's quite a revelation to realize one of the most foundational truths I've been telling myself, and clinging to, has been a lie.

The loss of a child is one of the most painful experiences a human being can endure.

Grief is an all-consuming experience. It fractures the mind, overwhelms the heart, and weighs on the body like a boat anchor around the neck.

And as devastating as it can be, there are countless ways to ratchet up the agony to even more intolerable levels.

One of the most common is one I thought I'd moved past. Guilt.

The guilt of failing at my most sacred duty to my child. The duty to protect her.

I've been telling myself all the right things (and believing them).

"Being a great dad is the most important thing in the world to me."

"I did my absolute best, and I'm at peace with that."

"There are a million things out of my control that influenced the trajectory of Chloe's life."

During a recent Somatic Experiencing session, I was feeling a very acute sense of charge.

My nervous system was lit up and my edginess made me want to crawl out of my own skin.

The therapist guided me to connect with what was happening in my body.

As he did, I dropped out of fight-or-flight and into a rare sense of calm. It's something I don’t experience often, usually only in sessions with him.

My perpetual hyper-vigilance disappeared, and I could be fully present. It’s in those moments where I tend to have the most profound insights.

This time, I felt a powerful wave of guilt for failing my daughter when she needed me most. I immediately started sobbing.

I realized I don’t really believe all the logical things I’ve been telling myself I believed.

I’ve been reciting them like a mantra—something to manage the pain while I try to hold my life together.

Realizing it’s all been a self-protective lie is as exhausting as it is empowering.

The exhaustion comes from knowing there’s always another raw nerve to touch. Another truth I haven’t been ready to feel.

But it’s empowering, too. Because the more I understand what’s really there, the more I can square my shoulders, stiffen my spine, and face it.

No matter how much it hurts.

I couldn't save Chloe. But I can honour her memory by continuing to heal.

I love you little buddy and I always will ♥️♥️