Forgiveness.
Forgiveness is a sonuvabitch.
People will tell you that you just need to forgive and you'll feel better.
Real forgiveness isn't a simple decision. It's not a split second where you just DECIDE to forgive and all is well.
Real forgiveness takes work. And fall back. And "maybe I haven't forgiven yets." And triggers. And getting angry again. Until you DECIDE to dive in and do the work.
I wanted to forgive but I didn't. Forgiving wasn't going to make me feel better. What would make me feel better was evening the score, telling the world of all their misgivings, telling everyone who she really was, ruining everything she had like everything of mine had been ruined, telling them every last mean word I had kept inside my heart so they would KNOW. Who cared if they could care less? Who cared if I was drinking the poison or however that saying goes that's meant to make people feel better but that whole "drinking the poison" line actually just feels worse. Because not only are these a-holes getting away with wronging you but now you're drinking your own poison?!
No, that was not where the decision to forgive would start. At least not for me.
I guess sometimes you have to decide to simply START the journey to forgiveness. Then do the work. And then when you're ready and willing, you truly start to forgive.
I attended my Propel group last night. We were starting on the first lesson we ever started the local Propel discussion series with. Basically, we are starting the conversation series over again.
Having it all.
The first time I walked into a Propel discussion series I was so broken. My life as I knew it had just unraveled. Having it all??? More like risking it all. We talked about our roles as women and I couldn't even get the words out of my mouth that I had no idea what my role in life was anymore because my life as a married mom and a wife, was no longer. I left with tears streaming down my face.
That story used to be longer. Or at least it used to feel longer. And, although I used to tell it as part of a Look at me now! success story, I felt every painful word of that story. It was my story and I needed to tell it. Yes, I wanted to tell my story to inspire others who might need healing and community like I had gained through Propel. But there was this underlying part of me that needed to tell my story because I needed others to understand, I needed to convince myself, that I didn't deserve any of this and that I was so very wronged through no real fault of my own.
I didn't deserve that.
You believe me, right?
If I tell you all the dirty details, will I finally believe I didn't deserve it?
If I can make you see, can I make myself see?
I heard something that struck me dead as I was mopping the floor and listening to a Brene Brown audiobook. I remember exactly where I was in my house.
In order to truly forgive you have to let go of your story.
What?! Let go of my story? But this story is my proof! This story is what I live! It was my battlecry! And rehashing it over and over was how I finally got to tell my side!
And this story was what was keeping me right there in that space. The way I told it, the way I delivered it, the way I lived it...it was keeping me from forgiving.
So last night I fully expected to experience revisiting that discussion series' first lesson with some pain and maybe some leftover angst about where I was when I first dove into that series. Maybe I'd experience some waves of somber familiarity and I was ready for it. But instead, I felt very different. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I was no longer there anymore. That didn't feel like my story anymore. Because it isn't.
Or rather, that time in my life will always be part of my story. I just no longer live it every day.
So that's what leaving my story behind meant.
It means I can share my story when I recognize it in the face of others and I can tell her that it's going to be okay because I was there and I'm here now and it'll all be okay, I promise. But my story's important parts are no longer about being wronged or hurt or scorned or...left.
My story is about the rising. It's about getting to the other side and being so grateful for my evolution I could burst wide open. It's about creating a new story and living that. And how can I live a brand new, beautiful, brave story if I can't leave the other one behind?
And with that realization, I finally felt in my bones that I didn't want to live that story anymore and forgiveness no longer felt like a struggle. It now feels very inviting.
People will tell you that you just need to forgive and you'll feel better.
Real forgiveness isn't a simple decision. It's not a split second where you just DECIDE to forgive and all is well.
Real forgiveness takes work. And fall back. And "maybe I haven't forgiven yets." And triggers. And getting angry again. Until you DECIDE to dive in and do the work.
I wanted to forgive but I didn't. Forgiving wasn't going to make me feel better. What would make me feel better was evening the score, telling the world of all their misgivings, telling everyone who she really was, ruining everything she had like everything of mine had been ruined, telling them every last mean word I had kept inside my heart so they would KNOW. Who cared if they could care less? Who cared if I was drinking the poison or however that saying goes that's meant to make people feel better but that whole "drinking the poison" line actually just feels worse. Because not only are these a-holes getting away with wronging you but now you're drinking your own poison?!
No, that was not where the decision to forgive would start. At least not for me.
I guess sometimes you have to decide to simply START the journey to forgiveness. Then do the work. And then when you're ready and willing, you truly start to forgive.
I attended my Propel group last night. We were starting on the first lesson we ever started the local Propel discussion series with. Basically, we are starting the conversation series over again.
Having it all.
The first time I walked into a Propel discussion series I was so broken. My life as I knew it had just unraveled. Having it all??? More like risking it all. We talked about our roles as women and I couldn't even get the words out of my mouth that I had no idea what my role in life was anymore because my life as a married mom and a wife, was no longer. I left with tears streaming down my face.
That story used to be longer. Or at least it used to feel longer. And, although I used to tell it as part of a Look at me now! success story, I felt every painful word of that story. It was my story and I needed to tell it. Yes, I wanted to tell my story to inspire others who might need healing and community like I had gained through Propel. But there was this underlying part of me that needed to tell my story because I needed others to understand, I needed to convince myself, that I didn't deserve any of this and that I was so very wronged through no real fault of my own.
I didn't deserve that.
You believe me, right?
If I tell you all the dirty details, will I finally believe I didn't deserve it?
If I can make you see, can I make myself see?
I heard something that struck me dead as I was mopping the floor and listening to a Brene Brown audiobook. I remember exactly where I was in my house.
In order to truly forgive you have to let go of your story.
What?! Let go of my story? But this story is my proof! This story is what I live! It was my battlecry! And rehashing it over and over was how I finally got to tell my side!
And this story was what was keeping me right there in that space. The way I told it, the way I delivered it, the way I lived it...it was keeping me from forgiving.
So last night I fully expected to experience revisiting that discussion series' first lesson with some pain and maybe some leftover angst about where I was when I first dove into that series. Maybe I'd experience some waves of somber familiarity and I was ready for it. But instead, I felt very different. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I was no longer there anymore. That didn't feel like my story anymore. Because it isn't.
Or rather, that time in my life will always be part of my story. I just no longer live it every day.
So that's what leaving my story behind meant.
It means I can share my story when I recognize it in the face of others and I can tell her that it's going to be okay because I was there and I'm here now and it'll all be okay, I promise. But my story's important parts are no longer about being wronged or hurt or scorned or...left.
My story is about the rising. It's about getting to the other side and being so grateful for my evolution I could burst wide open. It's about creating a new story and living that. And how can I live a brand new, beautiful, brave story if I can't leave the other one behind?
And with that realization, I finally felt in my bones that I didn't want to live that story anymore and forgiveness no longer felt like a struggle. It now feels very inviting.
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