Guilt, Shame, Self-hatred and Remorse in Prison

Michael Philpot writes about his remorse in prison, knowing his victims will “never see a beautiful sunset, taste a home-cooked meal, or see or be seen by their family again.”

I’ve had to live with the tremendous guilt, shame, self-hatred, and remorse in prison. As I’ve briefly touched on in one of my previous articles, I’m incarcerated for a car accident that took a precious life. And because I wasn’t man enough back then to face my actions, I fled the scene,  which ended up causing the situation to be distorted and blown way out of proportion. And every since that terrible day,

I’m not one of these individuals that will try to point fingers at everyone else or try to blame” the man” or anyone for my situation or circumstances but myself. It wasn’t my upbringing, because I come from a two parent household with two very hard-working parents. A mother that showered my siblings and I with love and affection and a World War II veteran father that, even though he passed away early in my life, was still a hard-working man that set a great example as a provider.

So to those who feel that all incarcerated black males come from broken families, crack whore mothers, thugs or pimps, that’s surely not the case here. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve experienced my fair share of struggles, hardships, and tough times growing up, but it isn’t the cause of me coming to prison.

In life, a lot of times things just happen that are beyond our scope of understanding, and regardless of what anyone may say or think, that’s the cold hard truth. A person can be in this situation so fast and truly be wondering ”how in the fuck did that just happen?”

But as a man and no longer a little boy, I must take full responsibility for my situation and circumstances. And trust when I say that not a day goes by that I don’t carry the tremendous weight of knowing that I took a life. It’s not some badge of honor, or sense of being ”gangsta” or any of that mentality that a lot of idiots portray. To be 100% honest, the shit hurts like a motherfucker, and knowing that it can never be undone is like walking through life with a ball and chain around my neck.

I awake each day knowing that my victim will not, knowing that they will never see a beautiful sunset, taste a home-cooked meal, or see or be seen by their family again. That is not something to be taken lightly. So at those times when I feel ostracized, forgotten, or left for dead by society, I put the two situations on the Libra scale. And being left for dead and actually being dead can not compare in any way.

Now this is not a ploy for sympathy, compassion, or any of that. This is just to show that there are individuals that are truly remorseful for their actions — and not all of us glorify crimes, even though we may commit them. And if I can just get one person to actually stop and think about their actions and how they may affect, or how they have affected, others, than this piece was worth writing.

Life is precious, and we must learn that we are truly all connected in one way or another, and when we drop a negative pebble in the proverbial ocean of life, those negative ripples  go out beyond the point of impact, same as with a positive pebble.

And trust when I say that I will forever experience the ripples from that negative pebble I dropped over 16 years ago. I just hope and pray that one day, maybe one day, I can be truly forgiven for my actions.