Taking Accountability: Owning My Past, Choosing My Next Right Step

A personal reflection on responsibility, forgiveness, and moving forward

Accountability is one of those words that sounds simple until you actually try to live it. It’s easy to say, “I take responsibility.” It’s harder to sit with the truth of what we’ve done, what we’ve avoided, who we’ve hurt, and what we’ve neglected—then still decide we’re going to move forward with integrity.

For a long time, I didn’t fully understand that accountability isn’t the same as shame. Shame says, “I am bad.” Accountability says, “I did wrong, I fell short, and I’m going to make it right.” Shame keeps you stuck. Accountability sets you free—because it gives you a path forward.

Owning My Failures Without Excuses

One of the biggest turning points in my life was realizing I couldn’t keep blaming circumstances, stress, pain, addiction, or “how I felt” for the choices I made. Yes, those things were real. Yes, they played a role. But they don’t erase the fact that my decisions had consequences.

I’ve had to look back and admit some hard truths:

  • As a parent, there were moments I wasn’t present the way my kids deserved. I missed things. I let them down.
  • As a son, there were times I didn’t show appreciation, respect, or effort the way I should have.
  • As a brother, I’ve had moments I wasn’t reliable—distant, inconsistent, or adding stress instead of support.
  • As a friend, I’ve hurt people with broken promises, selfish choices, or disappearing when life got heavy.

None of that is fun to admit. But it’s real. And the truth is: I can’t heal what I won’t admit. Accountability means I stop defending the past. I stop rewriting the story to make myself look better. I stop acting like I’m the victim of every chapter.

“I was wrong.”“I hurt you.”“You didn’t deserve that.”“I’m sorry.”

Asking Forgiveness the Right Way

Forgiveness isn’t something we demand. It’s something we ask for with humility, and then we prove we’re changing with our actions.

What accountability doesn’t sound like

  • “I’m sorry, but you don’t understand what I was going through.”
  • “I’m sorry, but you did things too.”
  • “I’m sorry, but that’s just how I am.”

What accountability sounds like

  • “I’m sorry. I take responsibility.”
  • “I understand if it takes time.”
  • “I’m committed to doing better.”

I’ve also learned something the hard way: sometimes people forgive you, and sometimes they don’t—at least not right away. Sometimes trust takes time to rebuild. Sometimes consequences remain. Accountability doesn’t argue with that. Accountability accepts it.

Moving Forward: The Next Right Thing

Once I owned my past, I had a choice to make. I could either drown in regret—or I could start building a new pattern. This is where “the next right thing” comes in.

I don’t have to fix my whole life in one day. I don’t have to be perfect. But I do have to be honest, consistent, and willing. The next right thing is simple, but powerful:

  • Tell the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.
  • Show up, even when you don’t feel like it.
  • Keep your word, especially on the small stuff.
  • Make amends where possible.
  • Stay teachable.
  • Stay grounded.
  • Choose responsibility over excuses.

Accountability is proven in the daily decisions no one claps for.

Doing Better Isn’t a Feeling—It’s a Pattern

A lot of people say, “I’m going to do better,” but they treat it like motivation—like a mood—like a moment. But doing better is not a feeling. Doing better is a pattern.

  • Going to therapy even when you’d rather avoid everything.
  • Making the phone call you’ve been putting off.
  • Owning your mistake without blaming someone else.
  • Apologizing without trying to control the outcome.
  • Choosing peace over chaos.
  • Learning healthier coping skills.
  • Being consistent even when you’re tired.

Accountability Is Love in Action

Here’s the truth I’ve come to believe: accountability is one of the most loving things a person can do. It tells the people in your life, “You matter enough for me to change.” It tells your kids, your family, your friends—and yourself—that you’re not trapped in who you used to be.

I can’t change the past. But I can own it. I can’t undo harm. But I can make amends where I can. I can’t force forgiveness. But I can live in a way that earns trust again. And I can choose, today, to take the next right step.

If you’re reading this and you’re carrying guilt, regret, or pain from your past, hear me clearly: you’re not disqualified. But you are responsible. And that’s good news—because responsibility means you have the power to change what happens next.

One honest admission. One real apology. One faithful decision. One next right thing. That’s how a new life gets built.

—Josh Bridges

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