Forgive Myself?

     Talking to my "life coach" (I always put it in quotations because I kind of think it's a silly name. Isn't it more like inexpensive therapist?) the other day and I thought I was doing well going through the whole apology letters to people I felt have caused me to be angry today. I wrote those letters and I was feeling pretty good about myself. He was right. It was a huge release to do it. 
     So, when I met up with him (after he'd printed out and read the letters), I was feeling good. I wasn't feeling emotional. We met in the middle of his restaurant prior to the opening. No problem. Just a casual chat about what I'd written. Somewhere in there, the tables turned. I'm not sure what happened but suddenly I was crying. In the middle of a restaurant. That had opened. Swell. 
     Like I said, I'm not even sure where it started. I know I was already upset (internally) because of a couple things I'll touch on later. Somehow we got on the subject (that I was upset about) and then I was gone. 
     Okay, fine. I'll just tell you now. It would make more sense if I do, right? When I was twenty, I got married. I'm pretty sure I've told this story before. Anyway, I got married, had two kids, and got divorced all in about 6 years. Here's what happens when you get divorced when you have little kids. It becomes a game of visitation. It's bad enough when your kids are little (which is why I'm a huge advocate for not getting divorced, especially when your kids are little), but then they grow up, get married, and have kids of their own. And the visitation competition continues.
     It's not bad if your adult child lives out of town. It IS bad if you don't have money to fly out and visit all of the time (or more than once a year). It becomes worse when they come to town and they have to split their time between you and your former spouse. 
     And grandchild birthdays. My grandson turns two this year, right after Christmas. I don't have a lot of family living here in town. Just me and my sons. No reason to have a big birthday party. Nobody to invite. My ex and his wife, on the other hand, have tons of family to invite. Am I jealous? Of course. It's probably dumb. My grandson has no idea that a big birthday is important because it's not. It's not at all. And it's dumb for me to be jealous or upset or whatever. That cute little kid won't care. It's a cake and balloons and a ton of people singing Happy Birthday. And he won't have any idea what it all means. He's 2. 
     Look what talking it out with all of you has done for me. I'll throw that cute kid a party for just me and my sons and whomever shows up. We'll have cake and ice cream and presents and it will just be a celebration. And it doesn't even have to be on his birthday. Because he's 2 and he won't know the difference. That's awesome. I'm good now. Moving on.
     So, because that day I was upset about this particular issue, it brought up regrets. Regrets are a bag of crap that you drag around you like a horrible weight and they don't matter because they are in the past. Yes, I get that. I told my life coach I hang onto my "regrets" because they remind me to not do it again. Right? Isn't that what they do? Well, no. I really don't think they do. Have I learned enough from past mistakes to never do them again? Nope. I can say that I have not. Sadly, I have not. Why? Shoot. I don't know. I'm dumb. I'm human. Bad judgment. It's all dumb. 
     And this is when he told me I had to forgive myself. FORGIVE MYSELF? Are you serious? Yes, your 20 year old self (20-25) was young and she made mistakes. Forgive her. And that was the final blow. Why can't I forgive her? She made a buttload of mistakes (yes. A buttload). She left her two little boys behind to go after what SHE wanted. Would she have done it when she was older? No, she would not have. She got remarried when she was 27 and had two more kids. And she could never imagine leaving her kids behind. She would not have done at 27 what she did when she was 23 or 24 or 25. Sadly, two to four years made that much of a difference. 
     SO, why was she so dumb at that age? Why did she make those mistakes? I look at my children. My daughter is 23, the year I made my first HUGE life changing error. She's making her own choices, and a lot of them I don't agree with. BUT, do I hold a grudge against her? Nope. Not a one. I have talked to her about paying attention to my past mistakes and learn from them but she wants to live her life, experience what she is going to experience, and make her own mistakes. And there is nothing I can do about it. She will learn on her own. Should she know better? Of course. She's not dumb. She's young.
     My youngest is 21. He's a funny kid. He has made many mistakes and I just shake my head. Do I hold a grudge against him? Nope. He's young. He won't always make these mistakes. He'll grow up and he'll learn and chances are he won't make the same mistakes when he's older. 
     My mom doesn't hold my past mistakes against me even though I screwed up more than once. She just kept loving me. I KNOW I hurt her many times over. I know she was worried about me. I know she was disappointed in me. But she's still here. She still loves me. She has thanked me for being me. Do I think she'd do that if she was ashamed of me? Nope. 
     SO, the magic question is "Why do I continue to feel ashamed of the girl I was 30 years ago?" You tell me. It's dumb, right? 
     That young girl made me who I am today. She was funny, cute, sweet, loving, kind, and slightly messed up. But I DID in fact learn from it. There are many things I don't do now that I did then. I am kinder, more loving, honest, more thoughtful, more sweet, (still cute), selfless, and I've turned into a caregiver because of her. She was self-centered. I am not. (atleast I hope I'm not). She walked away from her children when they needed her. I would never do that. Just ask my kids. 
     She just did what she knew to do. She was young. She was dumb. She was probably lost. She was undoubtedly REALLY lost. Poor thing. 
     What would I tell her if I could have met her and talked to her? 
    

   Everything is going to be awesome. 

     Four gorgeous kids, an adorable little grandson who will crack you up all the time. Life will be incredible. You'll get to travel, and live in five different states, and spend time with family, and go to college for Heaven's sake! And paint, and teach, and meet lots of really wonderful people. And make lots of really great friends. And you'll love. Love A LOT. And you will eventually find forever love. I haven't yet, of course. Not forever love. But eventually you will. I will. Your heart will be broken many times. You will cry a lot. You'll be sad. There will be loss. But you will become a survivor. All of this crap you go through will make you stronger. Make you more loving. You will make a difference in someone's life. And your children will love you. 
     And I would hug her for a really long time and we would cry together because we understand eachother, and what we have gone through and what we will go through. Then we'd laugh because we'd be all embarrassed over the fact that we were crying. 
     And then we'd sit down, crack open a Diet Coke and some peanut M&Ms and I'd tell her about her children. And her grandson. It would be amazing. 
     SO, have I forgiven my twenty-something year old self? 

                                   Yes, I have. 

Epiphany

     I started "seeing" a life coach last week. It was just one of those random moments when you are talking to someone you've known for over a year, assuming you know them pretty well, and then discovering something about them you never even guessed. One of my (what I thought) dear friends and I were chatting online one day and he started to ask me how I was doing. It was one of those low days I've had lately and I couldn't hide my mood. That's when he told me he wanted to help me. Suddenly he's telling me that he's a life coach and he has been for almost ten years. I had no idea. This guy owns my favorite pizza place (authentic Italian, no less) and dabbles in several different businesses. I never thought this was one of them. Next thing I know, I have an appointment with him that afternoon. 

     It's awkward to sit down with a friend and tell them your deepest, darkest secrets and fears, especially in person. I know. If they are really your friend, it isn't awkward. So, I guess he wasn't my "friend." He was someone I admired, loved and liked to be around but I never showed him my "real self." I showed him my happy self, the one most people actually see. He never heard about my vulnerable side. I never let him see that. I let very few people see that. I don't like whining and I don't like talking about my problems (even though I really don't have any problems). You understand, right? This blog, right here, is where I put my thoughts, my hurts, my dreams. Everything. I share it with you, dear strangers because I do not fear your judgment, and you are not going to tell me to snap out of it, right? You just read and move on. 

     Not this guy. I thought he'd be more gentle in his approach to me exposing myself. Instead he has become one of those people that just doesn't put up with my crap. I love those people. They make me think.

     So, my first week in a five week plan is to write letters to those I feel have hurt me in some way. 

And apologize. 

Wait. 

You want me to what, exactly? 

      Apologize.  

     Apologize for expecting them to be more than they were. Expecting my dad to be the 60s/70s TV dad I always wanted. Expecting my ex-husband to be a great father, be honest, and want me more than he wanted pornography. Expecting my ex-boyfriend to control his temper. 

     I cannot expect people to be someone more than they actually are. Wow.

     Apologizing to them releases their bond over me and stops me from being the "victim." Playing the victim card.
Blaming them for who I am, or how I feel about myself today. 

Easier said than done.

Or is it?

     So, the other night when I couldn't sleep, I wrote a letter to my dad. Just on my phone. In the dark. While my mom slept in the other bed in our hotel room. I told him that I knew that he had always loved me, I knew that no matter what words he used to upset me, not matter how he treated me when I was growing up, I always knew that he loved me. And I knew that Heavenly Father loved me, so it shouldn't make any difference what words my father used, I should have always known otherwise. I should have always known. 

So, why didn't  I? 

     I chose to listen to what was being said to me. I interpreted what my dad was telling me as "I don't love you," or "You are unloveable." He never said those words. Not in my entire life. He never told me that I was stupid, or ugly, or fat, or unloved. He may have said things in anger, or even just without thinking, but he never said anything I should have interpreted as being unloved. 

    I keep a lot of motivational (feel good) thoughts that I find on the internet, or they just happen to wend their way through my Facebook page. I save them for later use, share them with my friends, or I think they might inspire me later. Yesterday, when I was struggling with "apologizing" to those who hurt me, I came across this:

Number 4 is the one that hit me. 

"4. Where did we get the idea that if we don't forgive people, they suffer?"

Exactly.

Where did we ever get that idea?
How does holding a grudge against someone hurt THEIR feelings? 
And then I felt peace. Seriously. 
A really calm feeling came over me. 
The calm feeling I get when Heavenly Father speaks to me and tells me that whatever I'm doing, whatever I'm thinking, is right.

    And I "got" it. 

     The rest of "Happiness in a Nutshell" is also great and something I want/need to remember. It's all true. 

     I think I passed the test for week number 1 of my 5 week lesson on loving/healing myself. I have a feeling it's only going to get harder as the weeks go on. It may take me 5 days every week to actually understand what my life coach is trying to teach me, but 5 days is better than continuing to beat myself up over something that never actually happened. 

     It's okay. I got this.