Shift Happens

What happens when a shift occurs?  Something moves, adjusts itself, pushes and pulls until it settles into a new spot.  Seemingly at odds with itself, the shift is sometimes nearly imperceptible, yet like a runaway train it infiltrates our life and we have no control over it whatsoever.  What do we do?  We learn to adjust. But first we reach out.

What happens when a shift occurs?  Sometimes we feel the change coming, slow and ghost-like, the repercussions of it on the periphery, waiting, and we have no idea what the sensation is trying to tell us.  Once the tugging, twitching, and tweaking are complete, painful as they may have been, hindsight kicks in and we have our aha moment and see the shift for what it is.  Then what?  We have to adjust. If we don’t adjust, we can’t take the next step, or the next.

What happens when a shift occurs?  Here we are, moving at the speed of life when out of nowhere tragedy strikes a horrible blow, its shockwaves causing the ground upon which we stand to quake with fury, buckling the road we were so obliviously cruising on, forcing a seismic shift of the most painful proportions…and we are blindsided. We don’t see it coming so we hold on to whatever feels stable long enough to survive the onslaught.  Eventually, when the broken foundation beneath us finally goes still, we assess the damage and see where the shift occurred.  We strike a deal with ourselves and ask for help. This could be our only saving grace, our road to adjusting to the new landscape left behind by the shift.

What happens when a shift occurs?  Our options, it would seem, are few.  We can (and sometimes do) fall apart.  We lose our shit and we crumble, which is perfectly acceptable when horrible things happen.  But this is not where we want to hang our hat and spend the rest of our lives.  The Shit and Crumble Hotel is okay for a visit but we aren’t meant to move in permanently.  It’s cold, it’s lonely and it doesn’t offer continental breakfast.  We can’t adjust here, not honestly anyway.

Then there is the often used but rarely successful option to brush off the dust and march forward with no willingness to look at the shift at all because we are too hell bent on trying to “get back to normal.”  It takes a while but at some point we come to see that the only normal now existing is the one the shift created.  We begrudgingly admit this is doable even though it isn’t what we expected so we launch adjustment mode and hope for the best.

Then there is the choice that makes the most sense but is the hardest to do and that is simply sitting down and taking it all in, evaluating the shift, what it means and how it pertains to life as we now see it.  Take the time to feel all the feels and grieve for life as it was before the shift sent it into orbit.  This option allows the shift to move us in the direction we need to go, and once we get our bearings, well, you know.  We adjust. Wash, rinse, repeat.

This isn’t giving up or giving in, it’s change.

When we were young no one warned us that shift happens all.the.freaking.time.  The tectonic plates of our existence are forever in motion, sometimes moving towards each other and sometimes away.  When the stress in our lives overcomes our ability to cope, there is friction and the next thing we know we are up shifts creek without a paddle.  Or munchies.  This is when we need to find it within ourselves to reach out.

My reaching out ability is abysmal.  I think it’s because I don’t know what I really want when my personal tectonic plates are in full shift mode.  On the outside looking in, oftentimes a shift looks more like an unholy mess that needs fixing, but it’s not.  I feel that most of us don’t want anyone to “fix” our shift, we don’t need our shiny new shift-ness to be mended, repaired, nailed or duct taped.  What so many of us want, what we need, is someone to sit in the middle of our shift and tell us, “Yes, this really does suck and I will sit here with you in all the suckage until you are okay.”  And maybe they will bring us soup.

Sometimes we need help, other times we need to be the help.  There are no steadfast rules on how to handle either one except to be kind.  We need to be kind to ourselves when the shift hits the fan and love ourselves enough to reach out, no matter how hard it is.  There is also the kindness that follows when we are asked for help.  This kindness is born not from wanting to fix, but to sit in companionship, and if necessary slurp soup, until the person and their shift have decided on the details of a peace treaty.

(Side bar:  if we can’t help, that’s okay, we all have our shift to deal with, but at least don’t cause hurt.  Maybe find a way to help the person needing help to find help for their shift.  Got that?)

Shift happens.  (Personally, I think this should be a required class in middle school, the age of total chaos and confusion in kids, so maybe they won’t feel so bat-shift out of sorts and will seek help.) 

It’s no big secret that change is inevitable, sometimes it hurts and if nothing else it’s confusing but regardless, the shifts of life require one thing above all else and that is to adjust.  We can do this at our own pace and on our own terms but adjust we must.  Shift is going to happen with or without our permission but we don’t have to go it alone.  We can reach out, take a hand and let someone help us with our shift. 

© Terri Onorato 2023.  All Rights Reserved.

Resist and Release

Just recently I closed my pet grief website of 27 years.  It was a huge part of my life, beginning after the loss of Misty Blue, the first retired racing greyhound my husband and I adopted when we got married.  Her death opened an unexpected door for me and the website was born.

I expected to feel a great deal of pain in closing the site, it had come to mean so much to so many, but I didn’t.  I think it’s because I’d started the process of letting go months before.  Two years ago I’d planned to close the site but a combination of feeling pressured to continue and not being quite ready to let go stopped me. This time, I gave myself a pre-mourning opportunity that helped a great deal.  Instead of feeling bad about the site closure, I find myself feeling gratitude for all that it meant, all those it helped and how the experience changed and enriched my life.

I’ve always had a hard time letting go, whether it’s people, places, ideas, or things. My mother once told me that I held on to my belief in Santa Claus (as well as the Easter bunny and tooth fairy) far longer than most kids. I’m pretty sure I quit believing in a literal sense at an earlier age but I held on because there was magic in these unseeable friends of mine, and I wanted to feel that magic for long as possible.

I’ve done this with people too, gotten wrapped up in their magic, and then when things went sour, struggled to let go.  I thought maybe, if I waited long enough, the magic would return but that was never the case.

It’s funny how things change because now that I’m older I’m in the process of trying to let go of a lot of things.  We want to retire and downsize, and this requires letting go.  Much to my surprise, letting go of material things has turned out to be much harder than I expected.  I am rather taken aback at my own reaction to letting go of stuff, even the stuff that has no sentimental value. 

It’s not easy, this business of letting go.  It has to be done with compassion otherwise it becomes a sense of inner tension.  The soul knows when it’s time to let go and it will prompt us to this knowing. 

Friend and author Peg Morse Conway, who wrote the beautiful and poignant must-read book The Art of Reassembly: A Memoir of Early Mother Loss and Aftergrief, helped me understand more of what letting go entails in a recent workshop.  “Clearing out a closet or a home can feel overwhelming. Whether you’re dealing with childhood treasures, ancestral heirlooms, or ordinary household items, the real dilemma at the heart of the process is: “How do I know what to keep and what to move along?  This question is deeper than it appears and requires more thoughtful discernment than mere decluttering.”  I couldn’t agree more, in both letting go of material things and that which I hold on tightly too within myself.  (More information on Peg’s next workshop can be found at https://www.pegconway.com/event-making-space-rituals-of-releasing-stuff/ .)

Getting older in and of itself requires letting go too, while at the same time looking forward, which is a delicate balancing act.  I do not equate letting go with giving up.  Letting go is partly a dismantling of the life I have which allows space to open for what’s to come.  Nothing new can come in if there is too much of what I don’t need taking up space.

For me, one of the most surprising discoveries in letting go is how I breathe a bit more freely when not surrounded by the stuff (or situations, expectations etc.) that I don’t need.  Don’t be fooled!  I’ve not thrown away all my possessions (far from it), nor dumped all my people (noooooo) but as I attempt to disengage from the material things I no longer need, loosen my grip on this home I will be leaving, and face my feelings about it all, I’m beginning to feel a little less encumbered. 

I once saw a plaque that said life is a balance of holding on and letting go and it seems to me this is true.  Life is full of surprises, and we never know when a surprise will need a place to land.  I want to make sure I have space for the surprises to come.

(c) Terri Onorato 2023. All Rights Reserved.

My 2022 Year In Review

2022 Year in Review

As I approach my 62^nd year, I am thinking of things I’ve learned over the past 365 days.  It’s what we do, right?  We reflect.  So, what has touched my soul?  What has hurt my heart?  What lessons have brought me closer to being my authentic self?  (And for the love of all that’s holy, how do I change the notification sounds on my phone?)

My soul has been touched by what felt like the near loss of it. A dark night of the soul as it’s often called, has helped me appreciate those tender gifts of mercy and grace when I’m given a glimpse of the depth of faith that I carry within. My faith has sustained me practically my entire life. It does not fall inside party lines, religious lines, or any other lines. It is a conglomeration of so many facets of Mother and Father, Son and Magdalene and columns of saints galore.  It encompasses the earth and her many creatures.  My faith embraces friendships, relationships, and hardships. It is everything all the time.

This faith is my own, it sustains me and I grow from it every day.  It doesn’t matter if anyone else approves, it works for my soul.  My heart and soul are devoted to the most divine force and all that branches out from it.  I have a devotion to the Blessed Mother and Mary Magdalene.  I am a firm believer that the dead are ready and willing to walk this road of life with us if we would only pay attention.

My heart has been hurt by the reluctant acceptance that I am too much for some, and not enough for others.  I am keenly sensitive and have the ability to tap into what others feel and it is not always welcome.  I know things that I don’t know how I know, and for some people it’s too much.  I have a chronic condition that prevents me from doing many things and for some people, that’s not enough. 

I discovered that my people-pleasing-problem stems, in part, from trying to be enough for some and less than enough for others. It’s a futile effort, I tell you, and a waste of time.  I can’t be authentic if I’m altering parts of myself to suit anyone else.  This is a lesson in progress.

I am beginning to feel the shift of growing older.  What do I want to keep and what do I want to relinquish?  What matters most?

I long ago learned that in certain things, I am consistently inconsistent.  In case you haven’t noticed, my blog entries alone are proof of that. 

Oh, as for those pesky notification sounds, I actually did figure them out and now I have Guns N’ Roses filling the airwaves whenever I get a phone call.  Welcome to the jungle baby…

One of the things I want to do this coming year is participate more in my own blog.  Seems simple but for some reason, it easily slips my mind.  A beautiful friend gifted me a lovely journal that I’m going to use to help me stay focused and also give me room to remember to jot down what I would otherwise forget I want to talk about.  (Did you get all that?)

Everyone has something to share, bits and nuggets of wisdom, humor and reflection.  Perhaps I will go on a sort of wisdom scavenger hunt, not only within but “out there” too, and see what I can bring back here.

Stay tuned.

May the upcoming year be one that nourishes us all.

The Stuff of Crones

The Stuff of Crones and Life (by Terri Onorato)

If I could shoot through a portal and meet all my future crone incarnations and crone friends, there are things I’d want to share.  For instance:

~ Crones are worth listening to.  They know stuff.  Crone stuff and life stuff.  (It’s all very technical.)

~ If someone calls you a crone, thinking they are insulting you, plant a knowing smile on your face and say “thank you.”  (You can include the word “asshole” with your thank you but it’s not recommended.)  Crone is not an insult.  A crone is an archetypal figure if you will, a wise woman.  With intuition, experience and history as her guide, a crone finds her way back to the Earth Mother and as she ages, she finds she cares less about the things that once seemed so important. 

What else do crones know?

~ That anyone who seems to have all the answers usually has very few.

~ Not all who lead are leaders.

~ Not all who follow are followers.

~ If something smells fishy, it’s either an actual fish or something is off.  Trust your gut.  You’re a crone, you’ve been around a while and so has your gut.  It knows things too.

~ Milk supports strong bones.  Forgiveness does the same, spiritual and emotional bones, that is.  Forgiveness does not make you weak, it is grace offered to those who, many times, deserve it least.  

~ Sometimes you simply must go against the status quo.

~ The status quo is highly overrated.

~ You do not have gray hairs, they are silvery highlights of wisdom.

~ Find your faith and be faithful to it.  Nurture it, give it your full attention and integrate it into every corner of your life.  When you need it, it will be there.

~ Do not allow yourself to feel obligated to everything that presents itself to you.  You have earned the right to say, “hell to the no.”

~ Do no harm.  Unless someone takes your coffee (or tea or spirited adult beverage) because that is unacceptable.

~ Be authentic.  Even if it pisses people off.

~ If you absolutely have to fake it, be as authentically fake as possible.  It’s a bit complicated but not rocket science complicated so don’t worry.

~ Share your crone wisdom, even with those who may not be interested.  Especially those not interested.  A good crone knows how to annoy people and leave them a bit wiser for it.

~ Ornery crones are the best kind of crones so be on alert for ornery crones.  That is, unless you ARE an ornery crone and then, by all means, carry on my wayward crone.

~ Avoid using the word crone too many times in one sentence.  Unless someone in a blog post tell you that you shouldn’t.  Screw them, you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life. 

~ You can most assuredly go out kicking and screaming, but it’s better to go out with an air of mystery and a bit of a smirk on your face.  Those left behind will be left forever guessing what you were up to.

~ More than anything else, hold your head high and be the best crone you can be.

(c) Terri Onorato. All Rights Reserved.

What’s My Purpose?

(5/5/2020 by Terri Onorato)

As we slowly emerge from the isolation brought on by covid-19, we stretch our emotional muscles, peek around the corner and squint our eyes at the changes in the world in which we reside.  I doubt there is anyone who hasn’t been altered in some way because of the effects of coronavirus.

For many, their entire outlook on life has changed.  I would venture to guess there are innumerable people now questioning not only how they want to move forward but also what their purpose is in this lifetime.

We all have purpose, no matter what our situation is. For the longest time we followed the status quo and thought that by doing so we were living the good life, the American dream. It seems the American dream has changed dramatically and many of us have as well. Maybe now we’re starting to see that the good life doesn’t involve more stuff, more prestige or more recognition.  Maybe it involves more purpose.

Personally, for many years I struggled to define my purpose. I believed that my purpose was singular, that one big thing I needed to do in my lifetime. This line of thinking lead me to feel I was a failure because I hadn’t achieved my purpose.  I’ve had a lot of time to ponder this and I realize I was off track in my thinking. I’ve discovered I have a multitude of purposes, as do we all. I think our purpose changes depending on where we are in our lives, what our circumstances are and what is needed.

“If you can’t figure out your purpose, figure out your passion.
  Your passion will lead you right into your purpose.”
(Bishop T.D. Jakes)

I don’t know if there’s been a more pivotal moment in our own personal histories than there is right now. We have the opportunity to emerge from our cocoons with a clearer picture of who we are and who we want to be going forward.  And if you are not sure yet, listen closely to what makes your heart sing, what excites you and feels right to you. That is the beacon illuminating your purpose, showing you the way.

Change can be daunting, but look at what we have been through in just the past few months!  It has truly been unprecedented.  Now is the time to follow your instincts, trust your gut and alter the course as you see fit.   It’s a scary prospect that requires nothing less than a heavy dose of courage but if we have accumulated anything during this quarantine, it’s been courage.  (And for some of us a slightly larger waistline.)

“You cannot swim for new horizons until
you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”
(William Faulkner)

Be kind to yourself and others. The path we walk is not an easy one but it is important and it has purpose.

Middle Age Limbo

I noticed today that I haven’t written an entry in my blog since June 20, 2017.  Inspiration has been in short supply but then again maybe I haven’t been looking in all the right places.

I am 57 years old and will turn 58 in a few months.  The ages of 57 and 58 are like the middle children of middle age.  They aren’t 55 and they aren’t 60. They are the in-between ages of which we’re not really sure where we fit in society.  It’s middle age limbo.

It’s that period of life when the world tells us we are too young for some things and too old for others.  It’s a time when we can still handle staying up late but pay for it the next day. We can get down on the floor but getting back up requires a certain finesse abandoned in our forties. It’s a new wrinkle or gray hair making an appearance every day and we’re like what the what?  It’s an adjustment period if nothing else.

But all is not lost because it’s also the beginning of a different phase of existence.  A liberation if you will.  It’s when we become less afraid to tell society to screw off because age is a number and how we feel is what really counts.  We stop caring what the norm is because it’s the norm that’s been holding us down for so long. It’s when we realize that what other people think of us is none of our business but what we think of ourselves really matters.

And might I be so bold as to declare that we have the best music of any generation.  Bar none.

Time spent in middle age limbo brings with it insight.  It reminds us we’re not as wise as we want to be but we’re wiser than we think.  We discover that by sharing our life lessons with others we come to understand those lessons even more. As Marie Von Ebner Eschenbach so aptly put it, “In youth we learn; in age we understand.”

As we get to this in-between age we begin to pay more attention to what or whom we’ve wrapped our hearts around and wonder if it was worth it.  We find ourselves more interested in authenticity than acceptance.  It’s that slightly uncomfortable little place inside where joy and sadness feel oddly similar.  At times we might notice our wisdom and advice become more welcome in some circles while our forgetfulness and clumsiness are ripe for comment.  We appreciate the respect of being called “ma’am” or “sir” while at the same time cringe because we’re not used to it.  Wasn’t it just yesterday we were so young?

I think the best part of the in-between stage is we realize we are the authors of the rest of our story and it’s ours to write any way we choose.   We take our wisdom, history, our experiences, kick-butt attitudes and creaky knees and we write a brand new chapter.  One that doesn’t follow societal norms or rely on the opinions of others.  We finally come to understand that rules are meant to be broken, even the ones we created.  Especially the ones we created.

Francis Lear said, “I believe the second half of one’s life is meant to be better than the first half. The first half is finding out how you do it. And the second half is enjoying it.”

Here’s to the second half.

Portable Magic

“Books are a uniquely portable magic.”  -Stephen King

As a kid, learning to read was one of the best things that ever happened to me.  A good book became an immediate best friend, making it easier to deal with a difficult childhood.  Books offered an escape when real life became too much and they offered friends when I struggled to make any on my own.

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”  – Charles William Eliot

One of my fondest memories of books is when we moved to Kentucky.  I was in the fourth grade, new and afraid, and I didn’t know anyone. Then one day a vehicle rolled into the neighborhood that changed my world.  It was a bookmobile. I had no idea such a thing existed and I was over the moon!

I can recall the feeling of walking into that incredible rolling library and seeing nothing but books from stem to stern!  Stories of all kinds waited for me, ready to take me to places I’ve never been.  I remember how it made me feel to know my summer would not be as lonely as I’d first expected.

As I entered the bookmobile little did I know the best was yet to come.  I was told I could check out as many books as I wanted, or more accurately as many as I could carry, and keep them for three weeks.  Jackpot!  It was like Christmas in July!  It only took my first experience on the bookmobile for me to realize I needed to bring a BIG bag next time so I could fill it to the brim with books.

One of the first books I read from the bookmobile was Charlotte’s Web and it still holds a special place in my heart.  So many books followed and each one brought a new world with new adventures, new characters and the kind of excitement a little girl couldn’t find in the real world.

“Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.”  – Jane Smiley

It is now a few decades later and even though technology has given us apps to read from, I still love the feel of a book in my hands.  I’m one of those readers that feels a slight panic if I don’t have several books waiting in the wings for when I’m finished consuming whatever book I currently have my nose stuck in.

You kindred spirit readers out there know what I mean when I say that books are thieves.  They steal time.  You sit down for a chapter or two and the next thing you know an hour or three has disappeared.  And let’s not forget the lack of sleep caused by books.  It’s not unusual for me to stay up at night to “read for a few minutes” only to look up and realize it’s 1:00 am.  But it is so worth it.

In a world full of noise, books offer a quiet refuge.  Words on a page act as shade from the glare of a life that can be far too loud and overwhelming.  For many, many of us, reading isn’t just fundamental, it’s as necessary as the air we breathe.

Read on.

Weight a Minute

As a woman of a certain age I struggle with my weight. In the interest of full disclosure I don’t go overboard trying to control it but I’m not a total slacker either. In my attempt to juggle middle age and fibromyalgia I now juggle a third ball and that is weight management or better yet, mismanagement.

In my quest to control my weight without actually having to make an effort I stumbled upon the perfect routine. It’s called “I Forgot What I came In Here for” and it’s the best exercise you will ever get.  All you need to get started are middle age brain cells.  (In my case I have the proper aging cells in addition to fibro fog, a byproduct of fibromyalgia.  It offers a wide array of cognitive difficulties such as short term memory loss, difficulty carrying on conversations, attention problems, misplacing objects (and people and dogs if one is not careful), mental confusion and more.)

The exercise routine works like this: let’s say you’re in the kitchen and realize you need a paper clip from the office which is at the other end of the house. (Why you need a paper clip in the kitchen is beyond me but who am I to judge?)  So off you go and as you enter the office you suddenly realize you can’t remember why you are there in the first place and that your need for something from that room has been replaced with a sizable but empty thought bubble.  Sighing loudly, you go back to the kitchen but upon your return you remember what it was you forgot (aha!) so you head back to the office only to arrive utterly clueless as to why you are there instead of in the kitchen where the spaghetti sauce is boiling over.

Lather, rinse, repeat.  Several times every_single_day.

If you really want to get your heart rate up and burn some carbs try this same exercise when you are upstairs but what you need is actually in the basement.  Thirteen steps and a landing later you cannot remember why you are in the basement.  Try as you might, the something you needed from this little corner of your world is not coming to mind.  Back up you go!  And then back down again because finally you remember what you went down there for in the first place.

In my attempt to not be an over achiever I’ve learned to use the reminder method to prevent too many extra trips in one day.  I repeat out loud exactly what I’m going into the other room for until I get there.  “Paper clip, paper clip, paper clip.”  As long as I go straight to the paper clips I’m fine.  If I deviate one iota of a second from my goal to retrieve what I came in there for I have to turn around, go back where I started and do another set of reps.  It’s all in the planning people.

So if you’re like me and need to let go of a few pounds this summer don’t use your body, use your middle age brain.  It will let you down every time.

Chronic Pain and That In-between Place

I’ve had fibromyalgia for over 20 years. The pain began almost immediately after I received a series of Lupron injections for endometriosis. I was in my mid-30s when it started.  It took two years of specialists, tests, poking, prodding, zapping, biopsies and participating in a study at Johns Hopkins to get my diagnosis.

My pain has progressively gotten worse. In my late thirties into my forties, I would experience plateaus, periods of time where I would have my “daily pain”, a constant but fairly manageable pain that involved severe but less frequent flare ups than I have today.  There would be times back then when I could rest and get some relief but those days are now part of my past.

As I’m hitting middle age the manageable plateaus have become shorter in length and the flare-ups more intense and longer lasting. The pain is often relentless and I have more flare-ups and breakthrough pain than ever before.

This is nothing new.  I’ve been down this road before.  It’s the fork in the road between when things physically worsen permanently and when I finally accept it as my new reality. It’s what I think of as my in-between place, my internal battlefield where I go to war with my thoughts and feelings about what’s happening and how it’s going to affect my life.

I usually start out silently lamenting that things have indeed changed and are not going back to the way they were.  I allow myself to mourn what these changes extract from my life but not without appreciating that I am still upright and capable of doing many things even while in pain.

I also go through a period of feeling worthless and unnecessary but thankfully there is a part of me that acts as a motivator reminding me I can’t let the pain take me down or I won’t get back up.  I don’t know where this part of me comes from but she’s getting older and much more tired.

The internal struggle continues for a while, raging like wildfire in that in-between place, yelling, cursing, crying, bargaining and then, almost without notice, surrendering until finally, exhausted but better equipped to move on, I hit the acceptance stage.

The thing about chronic pain is it’s not just about pain.  It has many offshoots – sadness, frustration, a pinch of self-pity, anger, worry, bad moods and feeling different in every aspect of life.  But wait, there’s more!  People who suffer chronic pain are also brave, resourceful, limit pushers and somewhat chameleon-like in that we learn to quickly change and adjust based on how much pain we are in at any given time.

At the end of the day we do what everyone else does, we keep going because we have to but sometimes it takes a dreaded trip to that in-between place before we can settle in to what we’ve finally accepted.

Surrender and acceptance doesn’t mean giving in, bowing down or giving up.  It means doing the hard soul work, going inward and searching that in-between place and seeing what we are capable of even during our battles.

Illness does not define who we are.  Our strength, stubbornness, courage and cranky warrior attitude does.  Chronic pain may be our weakness but it is also the reason we become stronger.  And with that we fight on.

Forgive…me

You can’t believe you did it. You knew it wasn’t right but you did it anyway and people got hurt. You’ve tried but you can’t stop beating yourself up. Just when you think you can let it go the memory rears its ugly head and reminds you of your transgression. An error in judgment you made years ago. A mistake from which you are still carrying the heavy burden of guilt.

I hear you. Been there, done that. What stops us from forgiving ourselves for the less-than-savory things we’ve done in the past? Do we feel we are not worthy or perhaps that deserve to suffer? I’m here to tell you friend, this is not the case.

I believe there are other equally important questions we need to ponder. For instance, what good has come from our unwillingness to forgive ourselves? Has this lack of forgiveness toward ourselves made us better people? Has it given our life purpose? Has it been of great benefit in any way?

Most likely the answer to all these questions is the same. No. So what is the alternative? For a lot of us forgiving ourselves is the hardest thing we will ever do. We’re convinced we are the worst of the worst so forgiving would be akin to letting ourselves off the hook. Irresponsible. Selfish.

But we would be wrong. On the contrary, forgiving ourselves would be an act of mercy. A gift of compassion. We’re not going to forget what we did and we’ll do everything we can to never let it happen again.

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard for self-forgiveness is this…forget the mistake but remember the lesson. Forgiving isn’t the same as condoning. It doesn’t mean we lack regret or we aren’t sorry. It means we recognize that we have done wrong, we are sorry and have learned what we needed to from it and are moving on. Staying immersed in guilt and continually beating ourselves up robs us of peace.

We aren’t perfect. We are human, flawed and fallible, and we make mistakes. We do stupid crap without thinking. Sometimes we do stupid crap while we ARE thinking but we do it anyway. But if we have done what we can to make amends and taken to heart the lessons learned, why continue to beat ourselves up?

We are not defined by our mistakes. We all have a light inside that connects us to each other and to something greater than we are. Forgiveness, not only of others but of ourselves, makes our light shine brighter and the brighter we shine the lighter the world becomes. Never have we needed this more than now.