Sometimes we make terrible mistakes, unintentionally, and innocent people are hurt or even killed. Regardless of whether we are at fault, we may blame ourselves, often for the rest of our lives. And our life trajectory may change as a result, in directions we never imagined.
I have lived this truth for decades; today is the 44th anniversary of my tragic mistake during which a wonderful, talented, and beautiful young woman named Michelle lost her life. It is, as you might imagine, still very much with me.
Although I’m not a psychologist, guilt and shame over something like this feels very complex to me. My therapists have confirmed this. For many years, I would become overwhelmed with guilt at random times (triggered perhaps by the smell of a flower, or witnessing another car accident), not just for the harm I’d done to her, but to her family. Feelings of helplessness would roll like a tidal wave through me, and I’d be incapacitated, unable to function, sometimes for two-three days. I was inconsolable during those times, certain that no one could possibly understand. And often I believed that I deserved this pain; that this was appropriate punishment, albeit nowhere near just.
For many years, the only thing that helped me to pull out of these dark places was the knowledge that I had dedicated my life to making the world a better place. I made this promise to myself the night of the accident. And for nearly twenty years I used my artistic talents and skills in the professional theater to mount productions of plays that touched the heart and the mind, that uncovered essential truths about the human condition. This work took me not only to proper theaters, but to inner city schools in Boston and New York, and to hospitals and shelters.
While living in the UK, I began writing, directing, and producing plays of my own – again focusing on the flawed human condition – as a kind of hidden personal exorcism of my own demons. But, as successful as our productions were, nothing inside of me changed. I was still “that guy” to myself, the one who made that mistake, who ought to never be forgiven and who will never forgive himself.
Upon returning to the US, I threw myself into working as a consultant, trainer, writer, and coach in the diversity, equity and inclusion arena, again – I’m sure – trying to make a positive difference in a world, partly out of guilt and shame and partly because it felt natural to me, like the right thing to do. As a child, I never imagined I’d be doing this work.
And, I do believe I’d made a positive difference. But the internal weight of guilt and shame was still there, and I remained convinced that no one would understand that I saw myself as undeserving of compassion or respect. And so, not knowing what else to do, I buried these feelings and kept working, and working, and working. Nothing really changed.
But five years ago, after reading a New Yorker article about other accidental killers, one of whom started an online community called Accidental Impacts, I realized that I was not alone, that there were people who felt just as I did. From there I learned about “moral injury,” self-compassion, and the nature of psychological and emotional self-healing. If you have been involved in an accidental death, I cannot recommend this community enough to you. It will help.
One of the most important things I learned about myself was that all the good work I’d done trying to make the world a better place was a good start, but it wasn’t specific enough, it didn’t address what had happened directly enough. I realized I needed to go right at the heart of my pain and really make a positive difference in exactly the empty place that I’d struggled to fill for so long.
So, I created the Michelle Meyer Memorial Arts Scholarship and each year at graduation time, using my own funds and donations to a GoFundMe campaign from family and friends and communities who know us both, we award $1,000 or more to a senior woman at our high school on Long Island – a talented young artist who’s intention is to go to college to prepare herself for life as a professional artist, just like Michelle. Many people, including Michelle’s family, have contributed and contribute each year. And for this I am extraordinarily humbled, grateful, and heartened.
Is the guilt and shame still there? Yes, but it’s different. I can’t tell you how, but I can say that I feel that the positive difference we’re making with this scholarship is directly impacting the universe in exactly the right place. This, I like to think, is what Michelle would’ve wanted me to do. Perhaps this is all in my head, but all I know is that I am calmer and more sanguine about the accident than I’ve ever been. And I’m still just as committed to making a positive difference in the world through my work on respect and Respectful Leadership, but now with a slightly lighter heart. That, I believe, has to be a good thing.
