Endigar 953
From Courage to Change of Jul 14:
I didn’t know how great a burden my guilt was until I made amends and gained release from it. I never wanted to face the harm I’d done in the past. Consequently without knowing it, I carried guilt with me most of the time. Making amends has helped me to put the past behind me and move on with a clear conscience. My self-esteem has grown ever since, and I feel much better about myself.
But I had a problem. The person I felt I owed the most amends to is no longer living. Deep in my heart I knew she had understood and forgiven me, but I could not forgive myself for the harm I had done. How could I make amends?
After much prayer and thought, I realized that I couldn’t change the past. All I could do was to change my present behavior. Now, when I feel tempted to shirk a responsibility, I can remember my friend and consider my choice. Each time I talk to a newcomer, chair a meeting, or share my story, I am making amends to my friend.
Today’s Reminder
I can’t make past wrongs disappear, but I can take actions that will help me to let them go. When I make amends, I do what I can to correct the situation. Then I can put the past in tis rightful place and leave it there.
“Let me remember that the reason for making amends is to free my own mind of uneasiness.” ~ The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage.
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My guilt meter’s broken. That’s the truth. Somewhere along the way, it got rewired by survival, by dysfunction, by patterns I didn’t ask for but learned to live with. Now it spikes when I try to set a healthy boundary, and stays silent when I hurt someone I care about. It’s not that I don’t want to do right—it’s that I don’t always know what right looks like.
I’ve been conditioned to feel guilty for things that shouldn’t even raise a flag—saying no, needing space, refusing to fold into the expectations of enmeshment just to keep the peace. Somewhere along the way, peace became about appeasement. That kind of peace is a prison.
At the same time, I can miss the moments when I genuinely fail someone—when I step on hearts, neglect responsibilities, disappear emotionally—and I feel… nothing. That’s the part that scares me. Not because I don’t care, but because I’ve lost the signal. I need help, outside myself, to even know when an amends is owed.
That’s why I have to learn—not just what I feel, but what’s actually real. I have to develop an inner compass that doesn’t just react, but discerns. That means listening when someone says, “You crossed a line.” That means learning how to respect the sacred in others—their boundaries, their needs—even when it doesn’t come naturally.
Sometimes an amends isn’t just personal—it’s societal. My awareness can ripple outward. If I’ve been careless with one, chances are I’ve been unconscious with many. And if I want to make a living amends, I need to walk differently through the world. More awake. More accountable. More human.
Daily Reprieve 
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