That One Day When I Thought About Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a tricky little something that seems to occur in layers. Sometimes we make the conscious effort to lay aside the hurts we have suffered at the hands of others. Other times, it’s not so easy. In my book, 62 Days, I talk about how, at the end of my mother’s life, I was able to forgive the rejection I felt from her during my life from childhood to adulthood.

Several times over the course of my life, I had forgiven her. At least I thought I had. And maybe it was in those layers I previously mentioned. Forgiveness doesn’t necessarily mean that you are okay with what the other person has done to you. What it does mean is that you release yourself, and the offender, from the prison that is hatred, anger, and despair.

So how do I do that? My go-to therapy is writing. When I worry about something–especially when it is beyond my control–I write it down. That way, it is out of my head and that means less stress. When I have been offended by someone, I will, depending on my relationship with that person, talk to them about it. If I can’t talk about it, I write it down. It is an actionable demonstration of releasing what I feel from inside my head.

I can write anything I want without offending anyone.

Once my mind is cleansed through putting pen to paper, I can proceed to destroy that paper. I can rip it, ball it up, or even burn it (safely, that is. Preferably outside and with water nearby).

I have done that countless times, but there are times when I hang on to offenses. Not intentionally, though. I unwittingly keep some offenses like a nice warm blanket on a blustery winter’s day. For some crazy reason, we are sometimes comforted by the anger we feel toward a person. Maybe so we can use it against them later. To hurt them the way they hurt us.

In the end, this is not, I repeat, NOT a healthy coping mechanism.

We have to lay down the comfy blanket. We have to let go of the mess. And when there is nothing left, forgive. Forgive them for rejection. Forgive them for the harsh words. Forgive them for withholding affection. Whatever the offense, let it go. Find your peace.

The first step is to say, “I forgive.”

And I promise, the rest will fall into place.

Thanks for reading!

That One Day When I Realized I’m Broken and it’s Beautiful…and That Matcha is Life!

I have so many words in my head today, so this may be a long one. First, Kelly Clarkson is amazing and if you haven’t listened to Broken and Beautiful recently, do it now. I’ll wait. Okay, back to what I was saying. The words in my head…oh yes. There are so many things I need to say. I have to constantly take notes in my phone because, alas, Frankie (my MS) has stolen my brain power.

I place my fingers to the keyboard, but I am so full, I don’t know where to start. I’ll just start with the title. I am broken. My sisterfriend, Nyree always says, “No you’re not!” But I am. We all are to some extent. Broken, then mended. Broken, then mended. I shared this with my perpetual fiancé, Robert. And by perpetual, I mean, we’re never getting married. Just forever engaged. Anyway, so my brokenness is not an altogether bad thing. Unless you are extremely close to me and I trust you enough to show you, the brokenness is nearly unnoticeable.

I have been hurt a lot in my lifetime. A lot. Rejection sucks and I have experienced it more than any one person should. Yet, I see where it has formed me and made me who I am. I like me. I actually love me. Finally. It took a while, though. See? So many words and they’re fighting my brain space for a chance to be written. Hold on patient readers, while I get them in order. chill out words, you’ll all get your chance.

Okay, I’m back. Now, what was I saying…yes, I love me. And brokenness. Being broken is not the end of all things. I am talking to my warriors with chronic illness and pain. When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, it happened so quickly, my world changed in the blink of an eye. I went from superwoman to what-in-the-whole-hell-is-happening-woman. I was depressed from being bedridden, unable to work and having to drop out of college (again?!) I was beside myself.

But wait, is that the sound of the mender coming to heal some of my brokenness? Yes! As the glue was being applied, I began to see some beauty in the break. I have loved to write for as long as I can remember. This season of nothingness gave me what I needed to start writing. Time! That elusive thing of which we never seem to have enough. So began this here blog. The place where I write. Everything. Go back to the beginning. You’ll see.

I’m gonna wrap this up and save the rest for another day. Find your beauty. It may be in the cracks of your brokenness, but it is there.

Oh and matcha!! If you have not discovered this tea of champions, go. Go forth and find this treasure. Until next time (which will probably be tomorrow because, again, the words and whatnot).