”Forgiving is rediscovering the shining path of peace that at first you thought others took away when they betrayed you.” ~Dodinsky.
Yesterday, after tremendous soul searching and meditation, I took a deep breath and I forgave, and the burden was lifted from my heart, a burden that had been heavy on me, getting more difficult over the recent weeks. I exhaled. I smiled for the first time in days. I admitted where I could have handled things better, and it gave me strength. Whether or not something evolves from that, I don’t know, but I feel better for my own effort. I know I’ve learned. And when I speak of forgiveness, this has to do with everything and everyone. My relatives who don’t understand and never have understood the woman I am. Myself for not doing enough these past two years with my grandmother. The people who were not able to give me what I wanted, when I wanted, and myself for being too demanding when I knew I’d asked for more than they were capable of. Those who I felt betrayed by untruths. Myself for punishing myself for not being able to prevent the storm, for not seeing everything clearly, for not knowing what was going to happen next. I took accountability for my own stumbling, fumbling, bumbling, overreactions. I’m still learning, still growing, and part of that includes taking a deep breath and observing before doing. Not an easy thing for a girl who likes to get stuff processed as quickly as possible and move along to the next thing. My mind has always gone so fast that my heart doesn’t always understand how to balance. So I put myself out there, I asked for forgiveness, I refused to let my heart close, and will do my best to be a better woman. And I do need to be a better woman – we all need to keep working on ourselves, to understand our weaknesses and to learn how to better utilize our strengths to process the things that come through our lives. We all see what we want to see, and our friends provide us an extra conscience, telling us when we should take another look, soften our stance, not allow the past to affect our present.
So I hibernated, I stretched, I slept, I ate, I allowed tears to overwhelm me rather than try to be strong strong strong. And I wrote. I opened. And extended the olive branch. Later, I went back to sleep, willingly. Waking up this morning to the typical cool, overcast Oregon sky that allows garden time before the late morning burn off, and felt everything fall away. I’d done something right.