Today’s Reverb 10 prompt comes from Alice Bradley: Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? First, a little Frou Frou song called "Let Go" because it has been in my head since we were given this prompt.
Last month I wrote
Dear You: A Leavetaking, about being in the midst of that messy process of letting go of things and people who do not help my
Being, as Rumi would say. Aside from that, I came to this prompt thinking there was very little letting go in my 2010 life.
When I let the prompt sit and stir for a while, I realized that there is really so much I have let go of this year.
First there's the obvious, which may seem superficial but was the change that set all the rest into motion:
In February I gave up gluten after discovering I have a wheat allergy; during the summer I gave up meat and dairy and experimented with veganism; in the fall I gave up all forms of sugar went off the Pill. Holy wow.
Essentially, I began giving up things that were not good for my body. Perhaps not 100% of the time, but more often than not. Or else how can I claim to be learning to love myself if I cannot even respect the boundaries my body has given me?
Earlier this week I celebrated what would have been my mother's 79th birthday. She died much too soon at the age of 72. I celebrate her life this time of year, and always. But what I find to be increasingly true over time, is the fact that she is still much very alive in my life, and she continues to teach me. Because she is alive in me and in each of my four sisters, I cannot help but see her in my daily life -- in the good things, and the bad things. In the memories that make up my life and that made me who I am. In habits and funny French phrases and even the silly meals my sisters and I make.
When I was little, my parents split up. I was at that age where your parents are God, and my mother was my whole world, because she was my primary caretaker. I very much needed solid ground to walk on, but there was a constant shifting beneath my feet. Though I did not consciously know it at the time, my mother was depressed and dealing with severe anxiety. Looking back, I know I knew this in every cell of my being. Part of me wanted her to get over it, and to be my mom. And another part wanted to mother her, protect her. Instinctively I tried to extend to my mother what I myself most needed: comfort, love and protection.
You can choose to be a person who has resulted simply from what has happened, or from what you've chosen to be and do about what has happened. ~ Neale Donald Walsch,
Conversations with God The Miracle of Making Amends and Forgiveness Earlier this week I shared with you my personal experience with emotional abuse. As with any relationship or situation, there are two sides to the story. And as such, there are at least two steps in the process of healing.
- Acknowledging the hurt and betrayal, committed by the person who harmed you, and yourself;
- Taking responsibility for your role in what eventually went wrong. Making amends, even if it's just within your own heart;
- Forgiving, which is a natural extension to taking responsibility.
Acknowledging I expressed in the previous post how I was belittled and betrayed by someone I loved. This is something I have rarely spoken about outside of my family, but if acknowledging it publicly helps someone recognize they are in a toxic situation, then it is worth putting out there.
*** This post is part of a weekly series prompted by the new Next Chapter Book Club featuring the Happy Book. Each Friday Jamie will be asking us what makes us happy, and anyone can participate! *** Death might seem a peculiar subject for a Happy Friday post, but the event expressed here is the event which divides my life into Before and After. I am a different person than I was before, changed in many deeply positive ways. I think it is that change that makes it possible for me to experience happiness in the now.
Six years ago today, on an altogether different Friday morning, I received word that my mother had passed away. My family and I were all aware that she was nearing the end, yet in our denial had hoped we could each get through our Fridays and gather later to be with her. So while it was not a surprise, it was a shock. It was a door that closed that would never re-open, and no amount of knowing beforehand changes the finality of that door slam. And then I was surprised by the immediate softening, as I sat there holding the phone in my hands, and looking around a busy graphics department on deadline day. Suddenly knowing the pain I had convinced myself I had already felt and grieved, and knowing it to be new. It was the realization that I was living still, breathing and speaking in a world in which my mother was no more. A strange grace followed that moment within minutes. I went from total shock to relief to feeling blessed by my mother. I felt her sudden return to wholeness. I felt held and lifted out of any regrets I had toward the times when I did not handle my mother or her illness well. Although the grace of that early peace has faded, the gifts of that grace were a complete and total healing of my relationship with my mother. I knew in those moments that she now had access to the bigger picture, and as such she knew where I was coming from when I made mistakes. There was forgiveness. I also felt that her awareness of her own earthly fallibility, and that I am not expected to hold her up as a saint, which is something we often do when our loved ones pass on.
