With apologies to Elsa (that's a character from the Disney movie Frozen, in case you've -by some miracle - managed to avoid that movie AND that song, and no, you can't use the "I don't have kids" excuse. Neither do I, but *damn* that movie/song was EVERYwhere for a LONG while lol) for jacking her song lyrics, today's post is about letting go. Of the past, of dreams that are only making you sad, letting go of bitterness and anger and hatred - and letting go of that picture you have in your head of what your life "should" be. That's a big one for me. I'm going to be 38 this year (OUCH!), and I'm nowhere near where I "should" be. I'm not married. In fact, I've been single for so long that I'm not sure I'd know how to be in a relationship. I don't have kids, and it's looking more and more like that won't happen (and I know, there's still plenty of time, etc - but when you are staring down 40 and haven't even been on a *date* in years, it doesn't look good. And I'm entitled to my thoughts and feelings on the subject, anyway). I'm not working right now because of health issues. I'm just...I mean, from the outside looking in, I'm a total loser. (And, ok, from the inside looking out, some days I get overwhelmed with just how much of a loser I feel like I am.)
So that's where letting go comes in. Forgiveness. There is so much talk about forgiving people who have wronged you, not forgetting what they've done, not inviting them 'round for tea, necessarily, but forgiving them. Letting go of the anger and resentment that is only serving to hurt *you*. But you know what we don't talk nearly enough about? Forgiving *ourselves*. And while I've gotten much better at forgiving others - it seems to be a theme in my life these past couple of months - I'm not ABOUT to forgive myself. Oh, no. I hold myself to this ridiculously high standard where absolutely zero screw-ups will be tolerated. I don't get a break, or deserve one, ever. Then I screw up - as we do, because we're human - and the anger and guilt and shame seep right back in, higher than ever.
I've wasted my life to this point. No, really, I have. Since I was 13 years old, I've wasted my time and energy and youth on being fat. I've dedicated every thing I have to maintaining this body that lets me hide from people, from living life. It is miserably lonely and dull, but MAN have I perfected it, and it's so easy. I just glide through life with no expectations, no leaving my comfort zone, nothing that feels 'scary' or tough. And I'm content with that. I've been content with it, anyway. And I'm not *as* content with it as I was - sometimes I get these glimmers of "I don't want to be this way anymore" - but they get squashed by my certainty that it's too late for me to just now start living life. And I can't be talked out of that. Believe me, plenty of people have tried. "Oh, you're so young yet!" "Oh, you have plenty of time!" Yes, I suppose when you're 70, 38 seems young. But when you're 38 and haven't started the things you should've been doing at 18 and 20....well. (and besides - I can't deal in "maybe somedays". Yes, you have to have hope. You HAVE to. But there is a difference between hoping for a happy future and getting bogged down in pining for something that can never be.)
There is no going back. There is no way to relive my youth without letting my rapist win this time around. I can't go back to high school and be a normal teenage girl with friends and boys and parties. There is no way to redo college and be a normal 20-something. I have to live with the choices I made and all the things I missed. I have to live with knowing that if I just hadn't pissed my life away by hiding and being scared, I could be the person I want to be. I could have that job, that marriage, those babies. But I did this to myself. (and yes, I'm aware that there are no guarantees that I'd have those things if I'd been different. Let's just say my chances would've been DRAMATICALLY higher.) And even as my brain says "you can't change it", my heart says "...so let's drown you in guilt and shame and regret, forever".
It's a process, this forgiving myself. Some days - RARE days - I get it right, and I forget yesterday and just pick up today the best I can. Those are the days when I know that I can't dwell in coulda/shoulda/wouldas. That my life is what it is, and I need to make the best of THAT life, not waste more of it pining away for what might've been. Today is a perfect example of that. I'm fighting so hard to let go of the fact that I haven't walked for 4 days (working and travelling) and that this weekend, my food choices would indicate that I'd never heard the words Weight Watchers, let alone that I'm supposed to be following the program. I can't change what I did or didn't do, or what I ate. I can only watch what I eat today, and go get my sneakers on and walk. And I *will* go walk.
So if you feel like you're drowning under the weight of the past, unable to forgive yourself, think about this: your (my) prison door locks from the inside. All you have to do is turn the key and you're free to go! I'm not saying you won't wander back to your cell. I do -a lot. But I am saying it's worth the fight to have those moments of freedom, and when those moments start adding up and you find yourself with a whole day where you've LIVED instead of existed...it's the greatest thing.
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