"Such a waste to look behind you.... Should be lookin' straight ahead..."
And so, that's what I'm doing. I'm looking ahead after a year and a half that has had ups and downs, blessings and busts. My family has had health crises, job changes, added a new puppy (now dog) to the mix, and I've often bitten off more than I can chew. Yet, here I am, still...moving on...and as always,hoping praying
for the best outcome for my family.
One of the biggest revelations for me over the last several months was just how bitter and angry I had become. There were many reasons. Some of them, I've even talked about on this blog. I've carried a lot of pain, a lot of anger, and a lot of hate around in my heart for some time. I've been thinking a lot about how I need to let it all go, but sometimes, we've held on to things so tightly – not because they benefit us or keep us afloat. No, rather like a person who is drowning and flailing hopelessly in the water, we latch on frantically to whatever or whoever comes near us, even if they can't pull us ashore and we cling desperately until we are both pulled under.
I've done that with my hurt feelings about never quite fitting in to my neighborhood, about the queen bee whom I blame for taking up so much space and ruling the social scene with such an iron thumb that I never got my footing or found my place even after living here 10+ years. I've done it with my anger at God for my son's dyspraxia. I've done it with disappointments in my marriage and home life. I've done it with my anger toward my mother (dead now 13 years) for never telling me who my father is.
I've clung to my anger because I had no idea what it meant to let it go. The idea of letting my anger go made me feel like a victim all over again...a helpless child wanting to be understood and loved. Letting go of my anger meant taking down the one thing I had to protect myself with. It meant that the "bad guys" won. And until now that mattered.
Lately, I've felt a slight shift in my heart. I've realized that my anger isn't hurting the people I want to hurt. It's just hurting me. And my kids. And my husband. It keeps me insulated and isolated and ever more fearful and incapable of living peacefully and joyfully as I was intended.
So, yeah...I'm moving on as the song goes. Moving on with the grace and support of God and some dear friends who love me and accept me where I am. Moving on with excitement about the new health and fitness challenges I've accepted for myself (who knew running could be fun?!). And moving on with a plan to once again engage in the things I love, to separate the signal from the noise, and engage with the people and things that make my heart sing as all the rest – including all that hate and anger that was weighing me down – slowly recedes behind me.
And so, that's what I'm doing. I'm looking ahead after a year and a half that has had ups and downs, blessings and busts. My family has had health crises, job changes, added a new puppy (now dog) to the mix, and I've often bitten off more than I can chew. Yet, here I am, still...moving on...and as always,
for the best outcome for my family.
One of the biggest revelations for me over the last several months was just how bitter and angry I had become. There were many reasons. Some of them, I've even talked about on this blog. I've carried a lot of pain, a lot of anger, and a lot of hate around in my heart for some time. I've been thinking a lot about how I need to let it all go, but sometimes, we've held on to things so tightly – not because they benefit us or keep us afloat. No, rather like a person who is drowning and flailing hopelessly in the water, we latch on frantically to whatever or whoever comes near us, even if they can't pull us ashore and we cling desperately until we are both pulled under.
I've done that with my hurt feelings about never quite fitting in to my neighborhood, about the queen bee whom I blame for taking up so much space and ruling the social scene with such an iron thumb that I never got my footing or found my place even after living here 10+ years. I've done it with my anger at God for my son's dyspraxia. I've done it with disappointments in my marriage and home life. I've done it with my anger toward my mother (dead now 13 years) for never telling me who my father is.
I've clung to my anger because I had no idea what it meant to let it go. The idea of letting my anger go made me feel like a victim all over again...a helpless child wanting to be understood and loved. Letting go of my anger meant taking down the one thing I had to protect myself with. It meant that the "bad guys" won. And until now that mattered.
Lately, I've felt a slight shift in my heart. I've realized that my anger isn't hurting the people I want to hurt. It's just hurting me. And my kids. And my husband. It keeps me insulated and isolated and ever more fearful and incapable of living peacefully and joyfully as I was intended.
So, yeah...I'm moving on as the song goes. Moving on with the grace and support of God and some dear friends who love me and accept me where I am. Moving on with excitement about the new health and fitness challenges I've accepted for myself (who knew running could be fun?!). And moving on with a plan to once again engage in the things I love, to separate the signal from the noise, and engage with the people and things that make my heart sing as all the rest – including all that hate and anger that was weighing me down – slowly recedes behind me.
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