I had an interesting conversation yesterday with a friend that is struggling with friendship (and one particular friend) in many of the same ways I have. I mentioned to her my struggles in choosing to leave a friendship behind and move on, and she asked me a question so many people have: "What did she do?"
I've gotten this question so many times. I never know how to answer it.
I guess I feel guilty because I feel like there should be some concrete answer...some REASON for leaving behind a close friendship of eight years. There is none...it was a hundred, a thousand, a million tiny things. It was both of us changing, struggling with life, finding that our paths led elsewhere. Sure, I can point to specific things I found "wrong", or mean, or just downright infuriating...but when it comes right down to it, I guess I was just fed up.
I feel sometimes that in order to forgive we have to be able to be forgiving some major wrong...something so horrendous and hurtful that it has truly wounded us. I'm just mourning the loss of a friendship.
And yet.
I keep going back to arguments, things said, situations when I needed a friend that wasn't there. I have guilt over not being the person I want to be: independent, strong, supportive, confident.
The final blow was an argument over email as things were ending. She said things to me that went directly to the root of every insecurity I have...and she did it because she COULD. Because she knew me that well.
Despite this, despite the really really hurtful things I remember most....the things that really left scars...I think that the person I'm struggling most to forgive is myself. She is no longer in my life, and it doesn't take much thought for me to realize that I'm okay with that. It's my personal demons I'm struggling with, the fear that the things she said to me are, in fact, true. On the heels of this fear is the anger that I would let someone hurt me...the anger that I can't just shake off the words and the hurt.
I wish I could say, as this month draws to a close, that the forgiveness I'm searching for has come easily. It has not. I hope that as time goes by, though, I can stop letting this bitterness I feel dominate what is really important: my life is better now. My friendships are stronger now. And I try every day to ignore the voices inside me and instead live life in a way that makes me proud at the end of the day. I try to be the person I want to be. Isn't this still a process for all of us?
I have a strong motivator. One of the most valuable things I learned by being Tiny Man's momma is that tomorrow, yesterday...they don't matter. TODAY matters. Can I go to bed tonight knowing that my actions today were kind, strong, purposeful? Did I live my life today with happiness? Did I leave room for grace, for accepting the unexpected, for rolling with the punches? I have to keep reminding myself that if I have done these things, I have succeeded in another day of leaving behind a life to be proud of.
Showing posts with label feb10. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feb10. Show all posts
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Talismans
I am fortunate enough to be the owner of a lot of really lovely shiny things that commemorate the birth and life of my Tiny Man. When he was born I received a pair of earrings and a necklace in his birthstone from Hubby. I also have a mommy bracelet that was made for me. It, too, has his birthstone and his name spelled out on it. It's not something I would have chosen for myself, but I wore it faithfully every day until Toast was born, when I received a second bracelet with both boys names on it. I love them. I also have a "B" on a silver chain, and few assorted bracelets made for me by hospice volunteers. I frequently wear a blue and yellow rubber bracelet for Down syndrome awareness. It's not dressy, but it's a daily reminder to myself and to others what one of my strongest priorities is. My two favorite things are a locket I received at Tiny Man's memorial, with his picture in it, of course; and a necklace that is now my every day wear. The second has two metal tags, each is stamped with a name...one for Tiny Man and one for Toast. I love it....it was my "push prize" from Hubby. *an aside*: I'm aware of the crassness of the term "push prize", but I made it abundantly clear to Hubby at the outset of our marriage that while I am NOT a girl who requires regular gifts of shiny things, it was of paramount importance that I receive the shiny gift of my choosing ASAP after bearing a child. It's okay for you to think this is shallow of me, I don't mind. I make up for it in other areas.
The purpose of this post isn't to enumerate my jewelry collection for you, but to share how some of these things are significant to me. I'm really not a dressy kind of girl. These items aren't expensive, they aren't flashy, and they don't hold a whole lot of monetary value. There are days, however, that I want to wear all of them at once. If I didn't think it would make me look like some ridiculous mommy-version of Mr. T, I probably would. They remind me of Tiny man. Of what he means to me, and they are a way to help keep him present in my daily life.
I have other Talismans too...but they aren't as visible. These are the gifts my son gave me.
I look at people with disabilities differently now. It isn't that I was judgemental or rude before; I was simply uncomfortable because I wasn't sure what to do or how to act. I didn't want to say anything wrong. Tiny man did so much to draw people in to him. Without a single word (he never learned to talk), he could draw a complete stranger to him, introduce himself, and hold a conversation. A simple smile, a laugh...the twinkle in those eyes that were so blue I couldn't have chosen the color in Photoshop if I wanted to. This gift of acceptance is a Talisman I carry with me every day. It helps me to see people better, to laugh at life (and myself), and to accept imperfection.
I worry less. I'm a planner, and boy did I try to plan everything about Tiny man's life. Before I even got pregnant I had a plan...when I would get pregnant, how it would work with my teaching schedule, when I would have to go back, what the baby would be doing at that age and how things would work out in daycare. When he was born I tried to think of a plan. There was none. We made a plan, instead, of what to do if he died in the car on the way home. Not the kind of plan I had in mind. After several months, we started thinking about the fall...would I return to work? Who would take care of him? How would his health be? I was so scared to stay home...scared of money (or the lack of it), scared of losing myself and my identity, scared of leaving my job, scared of being alone with him (though I didn't realize it at the time). All the old adages about planning? We all know them because they are all true: "we plan, god laughs"..."life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans"..."the best laid plans of mice and men"...it's all true. Instead I realized that if I stop trying to plan my life, I can actually live it. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or three months from now. I can make sure I'm ready for good things (be frugal, stay healthy, keep an open mind)...but I can't plan. It won't work. Another thing? When I stopped planning, I loved my life so much more...and I found that life loved me back and gave me gifts beyond what I thought possible.
I'm more forgiving. I know that in light of recent blog posts this may be difficult to understand, but it's true. I'm less likely to bristle over an off hand comment. I'm more likely to remember that people say things that they don't think through. I try to remember that I can't control other people and what they think, and sometimes the best thing to do is just walk away and Let. It. GO.
I've spent a lot of time this year, on the anniversary of Tiny Man's death, thinking about my Talismans...about how the lessons I learned from him still guide me. He really is my star...and he's still with me every day...helping me get through this life with some grace and dignity. It sounds like a cliche, but it's true that sometimes it's those who know the least that teach us the most.
I miss you, buddy. Every day. Still.
Love,
Mama
The purpose of this post isn't to enumerate my jewelry collection for you, but to share how some of these things are significant to me. I'm really not a dressy kind of girl. These items aren't expensive, they aren't flashy, and they don't hold a whole lot of monetary value. There are days, however, that I want to wear all of them at once. If I didn't think it would make me look like some ridiculous mommy-version of Mr. T, I probably would. They remind me of Tiny man. Of what he means to me, and they are a way to help keep him present in my daily life.
I have other Talismans too...but they aren't as visible. These are the gifts my son gave me.
I look at people with disabilities differently now. It isn't that I was judgemental or rude before; I was simply uncomfortable because I wasn't sure what to do or how to act. I didn't want to say anything wrong. Tiny man did so much to draw people in to him. Without a single word (he never learned to talk), he could draw a complete stranger to him, introduce himself, and hold a conversation. A simple smile, a laugh...the twinkle in those eyes that were so blue I couldn't have chosen the color in Photoshop if I wanted to. This gift of acceptance is a Talisman I carry with me every day. It helps me to see people better, to laugh at life (and myself), and to accept imperfection.
I worry less. I'm a planner, and boy did I try to plan everything about Tiny man's life. Before I even got pregnant I had a plan...when I would get pregnant, how it would work with my teaching schedule, when I would have to go back, what the baby would be doing at that age and how things would work out in daycare. When he was born I tried to think of a plan. There was none. We made a plan, instead, of what to do if he died in the car on the way home. Not the kind of plan I had in mind. After several months, we started thinking about the fall...would I return to work? Who would take care of him? How would his health be? I was so scared to stay home...scared of money (or the lack of it), scared of losing myself and my identity, scared of leaving my job, scared of being alone with him (though I didn't realize it at the time). All the old adages about planning? We all know them because they are all true: "we plan, god laughs"..."life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans"..."the best laid plans of mice and men"...it's all true. Instead I realized that if I stop trying to plan my life, I can actually live it. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or three months from now. I can make sure I'm ready for good things (be frugal, stay healthy, keep an open mind)...but I can't plan. It won't work. Another thing? When I stopped planning, I loved my life so much more...and I found that life loved me back and gave me gifts beyond what I thought possible.
I'm more forgiving. I know that in light of recent blog posts this may be difficult to understand, but it's true. I'm less likely to bristle over an off hand comment. I'm more likely to remember that people say things that they don't think through. I try to remember that I can't control other people and what they think, and sometimes the best thing to do is just walk away and Let. It. GO.
I've spent a lot of time this year, on the anniversary of Tiny Man's death, thinking about my Talismans...about how the lessons I learned from him still guide me. He really is my star...and he's still with me every day...helping me get through this life with some grace and dignity. It sounds like a cliche, but it's true that sometimes it's those who know the least that teach us the most.
I miss you, buddy. Every day. Still.
Love,
Mama
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
What's the meaning of this?
What does it mean to forgive someone who is not a part of your life? I mean....not the guy that cuts you off in traffic or the rude person in the grocery store line...I mean someone who has done a personal wrong to you. Someone who knew you so well as to use your insecurities against you in an argument, disagreement, or complete destruction of a relationship. I don't feel the need to re-establish a relationship with this friend. In fact, I think that my life has grown significantly since we ended our friendship...I"m not the same person. I'm sure she isn't either. Forgiving seems sticky, though.
I'm not sure I can forgive without contacting her. In some ways, this seems silly...I'm concerned with matters of my own well being here, so maybe there is no need to make contact. I wonder how "real" it will seem to forgive someone when I'm doing it for myself? Maybe this is another issue at the root of the problem; I have trouble forgiving because it comes down to the last word thing. I don't want to contact her. In order to forgive her, though, I need to get over the need to get the last word. I need to remember that having the last word is not the point. Moving on is the point. Letting go of the hurt is the point. Last word will get me nowhere.
___
In other news, we have indeed entered the month of suck...full force, as it were. This year the anniversary of Tiny Man's death seems a little easier. I still miss him. I still hate that this is an anniversary I would rather not deal with. I can't help, though, but be aware of how amazing my life is, and how much of that is due to his presence...as short as it was. I have amazing friends...a totally new circle of friends that are genuine, true...people I can count on. People that are willing to count on me. I have old friends that are comfortable, and new ones I'm so fortunate to have found. The new ones are a direct result of Tiny Man...they all have children with Down syndrome and I would have never met them if it weren't for my involvement in the DS community. They show me that friendship doesn't have to be hard, and it doesn't have to be dramatic. They have shown me that friendships don't have to be old to be good. They have shown me I am lucky. They have shown me that people don't have to be identical to like each other, care about each other, and be good friends...in fact it's more interesting when you're a little different. They miss Tiny Man too, and that is an enormous comfort. My old friends, the ones I've always known...they are checking up on me...reminding me they care. I'm lucky indeed.
This year I've chosen to try and remember Tiny Man positively. I'm remembering the good things, trying to do little things to spread the word and raise awareness for Down syndrome. It's still hard. It still hurts. There hasn't been a day this week I haven't cried. I'm sure it will get harder. He is so missed. He taught us so much.
I'm not sure I can forgive without contacting her. In some ways, this seems silly...I'm concerned with matters of my own well being here, so maybe there is no need to make contact. I wonder how "real" it will seem to forgive someone when I'm doing it for myself? Maybe this is another issue at the root of the problem; I have trouble forgiving because it comes down to the last word thing. I don't want to contact her. In order to forgive her, though, I need to get over the need to get the last word. I need to remember that having the last word is not the point. Moving on is the point. Letting go of the hurt is the point. Last word will get me nowhere.
___
In other news, we have indeed entered the month of suck...full force, as it were. This year the anniversary of Tiny Man's death seems a little easier. I still miss him. I still hate that this is an anniversary I would rather not deal with. I can't help, though, but be aware of how amazing my life is, and how much of that is due to his presence...as short as it was. I have amazing friends...a totally new circle of friends that are genuine, true...people I can count on. People that are willing to count on me. I have old friends that are comfortable, and new ones I'm so fortunate to have found. The new ones are a direct result of Tiny Man...they all have children with Down syndrome and I would have never met them if it weren't for my involvement in the DS community. They show me that friendship doesn't have to be hard, and it doesn't have to be dramatic. They have shown me that friendships don't have to be old to be good. They have shown me I am lucky. They have shown me that people don't have to be identical to like each other, care about each other, and be good friends...in fact it's more interesting when you're a little different. They miss Tiny Man too, and that is an enormous comfort. My old friends, the ones I've always known...they are checking up on me...reminding me they care. I'm lucky indeed.
This year I've chosen to try and remember Tiny Man positively. I'm remembering the good things, trying to do little things to spread the word and raise awareness for Down syndrome. It's still hard. It still hurts. There hasn't been a day this week I haven't cried. I'm sure it will get harder. He is so missed. He taught us so much.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
So here's the thing
It's not that it's all that hard to forgive, right? I mean, we do it a hundred times a day without thinking of it. My son dumps some eggs on the floor, I take a deep breath and we clean it up together. Sure, I'm annoyed, but in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter, right? Or someone cuts you off in traffic. You get angry, you get frustrated, you get over it.
For me, the issue with forgiveness really takes two forms. The first is it is hard to forgive when I feel I have been wronged and the other person won't take responsibility for it. The second is when an argument or incident is my fault, and leads to both of us being unfair, I feel bad and I have a hard time admitting I'm wrong. Both of these apply to my current situation.
See, I'm a last word girl. I like to be witty and clever. I have a burning sarcastic streak. Sometimes this works out well for me: being a last word person means that I like to communicate. I pride myself on being able to talk to different kinds of people about different kinds of things. Being a last word girl has its drawbacks, though, when you have been "wronged" (either in your perception or for real).
There are still things that are unresolved between my friend and I. There were things said in the argument and the subsequent back and forth on email (I know, I know....but it happened...so I'm owning it) that were hurtful. I was responsible for some of that hurt. So was she. It bothers me that I probably won't get an apology, ever. It bothers me that she probably doesn't think she did anything wrong. And it bothers me that even if I am willing to apologise for the way I hurt her, I won't get what I want out of it.
THIS....this is the crux of the issue.
What do I want? I want her to apologize. What do I need to do? Apologize for my own actions, and then MOVE ON. Whether I get an apology or not. MOVE ON. Put her down. Stop trying to be right. I need to apologize to make myself feel like I have mended the wrongs I did. I need to apologize with no expectation of getting an apology back. This is what has held me back for so long...I feel like I deserve something that I'm not getting...an apology. Some kind of admission of guilt from her. I want to know she feels bad.
Here's the thing though: I don't have any of that now. So if I don't get it when I apologize, I'm no better or worse off that I am now. So why not just go ahead and do it? I'll at least know that I have done my part, and I can move on to forgiving her and myself and live my life.
That wanting the last word thing, though? That's a powerful thing. It's not a great thing to admit about myself, but it's there. And I know that it's ridiculous. And I know it's getting in the way of my forgiving her.
Working on letting go. Working on putting her down. I'm working.
For me, the issue with forgiveness really takes two forms. The first is it is hard to forgive when I feel I have been wronged and the other person won't take responsibility for it. The second is when an argument or incident is my fault, and leads to both of us being unfair, I feel bad and I have a hard time admitting I'm wrong. Both of these apply to my current situation.
See, I'm a last word girl. I like to be witty and clever. I have a burning sarcastic streak. Sometimes this works out well for me: being a last word person means that I like to communicate. I pride myself on being able to talk to different kinds of people about different kinds of things. Being a last word girl has its drawbacks, though, when you have been "wronged" (either in your perception or for real).
There are still things that are unresolved between my friend and I. There were things said in the argument and the subsequent back and forth on email (I know, I know....but it happened...so I'm owning it) that were hurtful. I was responsible for some of that hurt. So was she. It bothers me that I probably won't get an apology, ever. It bothers me that she probably doesn't think she did anything wrong. And it bothers me that even if I am willing to apologise for the way I hurt her, I won't get what I want out of it.
THIS....this is the crux of the issue.
What do I want? I want her to apologize. What do I need to do? Apologize for my own actions, and then MOVE ON. Whether I get an apology or not. MOVE ON. Put her down. Stop trying to be right. I need to apologize to make myself feel like I have mended the wrongs I did. I need to apologize with no expectation of getting an apology back. This is what has held me back for so long...I feel like I deserve something that I'm not getting...an apology. Some kind of admission of guilt from her. I want to know she feels bad.
Here's the thing though: I don't have any of that now. So if I don't get it when I apologize, I'm no better or worse off that I am now. So why not just go ahead and do it? I'll at least know that I have done my part, and I can move on to forgiving her and myself and live my life.
That wanting the last word thing, though? That's a powerful thing. It's not a great thing to admit about myself, but it's there. And I know that it's ridiculous. And I know it's getting in the way of my forgiving her.
Working on letting go. Working on putting her down. I'm working.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Why is it so hard?
I've been thinking about forgiveness lately. A lot.
I read a parable a few months ago. I want to link to where I read it, but I can't remember the site, or the book, or whatever medium it was. I'm going to sum up and post it for you anyway, because it's relevant.
Two monks are walking together on a road. They meet a woman who is going the same way, and the three begin to walk together. The woman is really not a nice person. She's loud, boastful, and rude. She is mean to the monks. Still they walk on together. Eventually they come to a stream. The woman insists she is NOT crossing this river by herself. She demands that the monks carry her, and they do. One picks her up, the other picks up her stuff (which is a lot...she has a lot of stuff)...together they get her across the river. On the other side, they part ways with her...she stands shouting and degrading them as they leave.
After walking on for another hour, one monk turns to the other and says "I cannot believe you carried that woman across the river. She was so awful. She was so rude to you...and you did it anyway. She was the most horrible person I've ever met!" His companion turns to him and says "Brother, I put her down an hour ago. Why haven't you?"
I've retold this story many times over the past months, and part of that retelling is me trying to work out my own stuff. See, I strive to be a better person. I really try to do good things for others and for this world. The fact is, though...one thing I have never been able to change is the fact that I hold a grudge. I have the ability to stay mad at someone for so long it is ridiculous.
Honestly, most of the time I yell a little, recounting to Hubby what injustices have been done to me in a particular situation...then I'm over it. Maybe I'll tell a few other people and turn it into a good story.
I have one particular grudge, though, that I cannot let go of.
A few years ago I had a friend I was extremely close to. Without giving details, I will suffice it to say that our friendship didn't just fall apart, it exploded in an ugly way. We were drifting apart, it hurt, and then it turned ugly. The fault belongs to both of us; I have to say I did and said some things that really make me cringe now. I didn't handle it well.
But here's the thing: I can't let it go. I know I had a hand in the way things ended. I know that I could have handled the whole situation better. But all I can dwell on is how hurt I was...how I needed my friend and she chose that time to pull away and focus on other things...other friends...her own life (which was, truth be told, in turmoil). I was angry at her for not being there for me, angry at her for not letting me be there for her, and angry that our friendship, which I treasured, now seemed to mean nothing to her. I'm still angry. I'm still hurt. I want to let it go.
I know that letting this go means I need to forgive her for not being the friend I wanted, the friend I thought I had. I also know that letting go means I have to forgive myself for the same things...for not being the friend I aspire to be...for not being the person I aspire to be.
February is here...an online friend I have would refer to this as the "month of suck"...and I'm adopting that moniker from here on out. I hate february. I do. Hubby and I try to fill the month with positive things; things like family and friends and memories that make us smile. But the fact of the matter is that I cry every time I remember tiny man and how his death will always be linked to his birthday in my heart. It makes me angry.
So this year, the second anniversary of his death. The year he would have turned four. I'm going to try to be the person my son thought I was. Kind. Loving. Dedicated.
Forgiving.
I've decided that I have to put this friend down. I have to let her go. I've decided that I can't apply the lessons Tiny Man taught me in his short life when I'm letting anger and bitterness hold me back.
This is going to hurt.
I read a parable a few months ago. I want to link to where I read it, but I can't remember the site, or the book, or whatever medium it was. I'm going to sum up and post it for you anyway, because it's relevant.
Two monks are walking together on a road. They meet a woman who is going the same way, and the three begin to walk together. The woman is really not a nice person. She's loud, boastful, and rude. She is mean to the monks. Still they walk on together. Eventually they come to a stream. The woman insists she is NOT crossing this river by herself. She demands that the monks carry her, and they do. One picks her up, the other picks up her stuff (which is a lot...she has a lot of stuff)...together they get her across the river. On the other side, they part ways with her...she stands shouting and degrading them as they leave.
After walking on for another hour, one monk turns to the other and says "I cannot believe you carried that woman across the river. She was so awful. She was so rude to you...and you did it anyway. She was the most horrible person I've ever met!" His companion turns to him and says "Brother, I put her down an hour ago. Why haven't you?"
I've retold this story many times over the past months, and part of that retelling is me trying to work out my own stuff. See, I strive to be a better person. I really try to do good things for others and for this world. The fact is, though...one thing I have never been able to change is the fact that I hold a grudge. I have the ability to stay mad at someone for so long it is ridiculous.
Honestly, most of the time I yell a little, recounting to Hubby what injustices have been done to me in a particular situation...then I'm over it. Maybe I'll tell a few other people and turn it into a good story.
I have one particular grudge, though, that I cannot let go of.
A few years ago I had a friend I was extremely close to. Without giving details, I will suffice it to say that our friendship didn't just fall apart, it exploded in an ugly way. We were drifting apart, it hurt, and then it turned ugly. The fault belongs to both of us; I have to say I did and said some things that really make me cringe now. I didn't handle it well.
But here's the thing: I can't let it go. I know I had a hand in the way things ended. I know that I could have handled the whole situation better. But all I can dwell on is how hurt I was...how I needed my friend and she chose that time to pull away and focus on other things...other friends...her own life (which was, truth be told, in turmoil). I was angry at her for not being there for me, angry at her for not letting me be there for her, and angry that our friendship, which I treasured, now seemed to mean nothing to her. I'm still angry. I'm still hurt. I want to let it go.
I know that letting this go means I need to forgive her for not being the friend I wanted, the friend I thought I had. I also know that letting go means I have to forgive myself for the same things...for not being the friend I aspire to be...for not being the person I aspire to be.
February is here...an online friend I have would refer to this as the "month of suck"...and I'm adopting that moniker from here on out. I hate february. I do. Hubby and I try to fill the month with positive things; things like family and friends and memories that make us smile. But the fact of the matter is that I cry every time I remember tiny man and how his death will always be linked to his birthday in my heart. It makes me angry.
So this year, the second anniversary of his death. The year he would have turned four. I'm going to try to be the person my son thought I was. Kind. Loving. Dedicated.
Forgiving.
I've decided that I have to put this friend down. I have to let her go. I've decided that I can't apply the lessons Tiny Man taught me in his short life when I'm letting anger and bitterness hold me back.
This is going to hurt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)