Lessons

Some lessons are more important than others, some are easier to learn than others, and it’s a life-long endeavor.

Hello dear reader.

I hope all the mothers out there had a wonderful mother’s day. I had a very emotional day. I spent quite a bit of time talking with two of my children, my mother, and my mother-in-law, which was great. I also spent a lot of time feeling how much I miss the two of my children who aren’t speaking to me. I always miss them, but it hits me harder on holidays and birthdays. I’ve tried to turn it into a learning experience, though probably not the way you’d think. I’m not going to go into the whole mess about why the situation is the way it is except to say that most of it was beyond my control. The biggest thing I’ve learned from it is that I can’t hold myself responsible for other peoples’ behavior, only how I react to their choices. I can’t force my will on anyone else. I can choose to stop putting myself in situations that open me up for further pain. That was a difficult thing for me to understand. Lesson learned.

Here’s another situation that’s not nearly as important, but is still a learning experience. I read over my last post and realized how scattered it was, definitely not my best writing. I think it turned out that way because I was trying to fit in too many things. I was more concerned with it not being overly long than I was with clarity. What did I learn from that? I learned that clarity needs to be priority. I should have either let the post run longer or split it up. Lesson learned.

Some learning experiences are a work in progress. I’ve learned them in my head but struggle with learning them in my life. For example, I blew my back out yesterday. I’m in a huge amount of pain today and can’t walk at all without my cane. I guess I need to quit doing crazy things like vacuuming the floor. The lesson I’m struggling so much with is that I have no reason to feel guilty. I know for a fact I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I still feel guilty for not being able to cook dinner for my husband. I feel guilty about having to cancel a doctor appointment I had scheduled for tomorrow. It’s five hours round trip and even if I got someone else to drive, the ride would be absolute torture. I have no reason to feel guilty, yet I still do. Lesson in progress.

Some lessons are more important than others, some are easier to learn than others, and it’s a life-long endeavor. What are some of the hardest/most important lessons you’ve learned?

Until next time…

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Hot Coals

Hello dear reader.

My last couple of posts have been a bit different from what I usually write about, but they’ve been things I’m very passionate about…domestic violence and giving children a voice when they need one.  Today, however, will be a little calmer.  I promise.

I found a quote the other day that really stuck with me.

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else. You are the one who gets burned”
Buddha

I’ve believed for a long time now that holding on to anger and refusing to forgive, gives the person who wronged you power over you. It hurts you, not them. Buddha just says it better. No matter how it’s said, it’s a truth that a lot of people never grasp.

When I was a child, I wanted more than anything to be grown so my abusive mother and step-father would no longer have control over me. When I was 15, I simply could not deal with it any longer. I was literally losing my mind. So I left. The police found me after a week or so. They gave me a choice between going to Juvie or going home. I thought about it and decided, better the devil you know……right? So I went back. Nothing got better. Things actually got worse. So when I left again a few months later, I had a plan. The plan worked. Instead of sending the police after me, they told me that they would call the police on me if I showed up there. I was free! At least, I thought I was.

Many years went by while I hung on to hurt, anger, hatred, and guilt. Why guilt? Because I had left my four siblings in that hell hole. When I left, I planned to get them out as soon as I could. But I was living in an abandoned car out in a field. In Louisiana. In the summer. I knew I couldn’t take custody of them while I was living like that. It was four years later by the time I had a home of my own, not staying at someone else’s house, and a steady job. By then…..anyway, that’s where the guilt came from.

I went from bad relationship to bad relationship to worse relationship. I was angry, depressed, and felt like a victim. But I didn’t have a clue how to change things. I had gotten away. But I wasn’t FREE. My life still felt the same. I changed geography and who was abusing me, but other than that it was the same life. I’d reach a point where I simply could not deal with it any longer and I’d run, over and over again.

The first time I tried to commit suicide I was 10 years old. I knew that it was dangerous to take more Tylenol than it said to on the bottle, so I swallowed an entire bottle of Tylenol before I went to bed. I completely expected to die during the night. Boy was I mad when I woke up in the morning! That was the first of many attempts throughout my life. I simply could not deal with my life any longer and I tried to run.

It’s a funny thing about running. No matter how fast or how far you run, you are still there with all the pain and anger you try to escape. It took me more than 40 years to figure that out. But I still didn’t know how to change it. I couldn’t erase all that had happened to me. I had tried to forget, but that never worked. I had to let go of it. I didn’t know how to do that.

When I had my first surgery for the Chiari, I truly didn’t know if I would survive the surgery. I wasn’t scared of dying, but if I was going to, I needed to do it with a clean slate. I had to forgive so that I could be forgiven. It wasn’t about letting them off the hook, or in any way condoning what had been done. It was about me being able to die with a clear conscience. So I started calling people…my mother, my ex-husband….people who had hurt me the worst. I called and told them that I was sorry. I was sorry that I hadn’t been a better daughter. I was sorry that I hadn’t been a better wife. I was sorry that I hadn’t been a better person, a better sibling, friend, mother….so many things.

I was shocked at what happened. My pain and anger toward people went away as I apologized for my failures in the relationship. I was able to let go of my hurt. With every person I talked to, a little bit of light shined into places in my heart that had never been anything but dark. It was incredible! They didn’t have any more power over me. What they had done to me no longer controlled my life.

Let me be very clear about one thing here. Forgiving does not mean forgetting. I would never leave my daughters alone with my parents because I knew what could happen. I let go of the pain they had caused me. I didn’t become stupid. What I did was for me, not for them.

I did survive the surgery….obviously. But I had my clean conscious. My past no longer ruled my future. I’ve worked hard every day since then to try to be more forgiving. The things that happened to me are still a part of my life, but now I try to use them for good. I work with children who have been abused or neglected. I work with victims of domestic violence. I am very passionate about those things. But I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor.

That hot coal did a lot of damage to me while I tried to throw it. I still burn my fingertips from time to time when I reach to pick it back up. But now I’ve learned to drop it.

I truly hope that I (and Buddha) have given you something to think about today. Put something in comments at the bottom of this page and let me know. You are welcome to share as much or as little as you’d like. Please feel free to pass this on. It’s truly life changing.

Until next time…