Forgiveness
My theme or mantra for the past week has been, "I forgive myself." I didn't do anything terrible or extreme. I am going through a breakup. At one point I was making space for my ex boyfriend. I emptied a drawer and moved my clothes around so there was space to hang his clothes in my tiny closet. He didn't like the way I clutter my room up with stuff. I'm a hot mess and everything is about an organized mess. It is the way I like things. He was big on a simple life with few possessions and it drove him nuts. So I threw away a lot of things, and hid the rest in drawers.
I'm moving my things around to take away the space I made for him, and I'm repeating, "I forgive myself." I made so much space in the act of loving him, that I forgot to make space for me. Closet space is symbolic of all of the shifts I made in who I am to make space for us.
Tonight I made dinner for myself and I got lost in the food prep and chopping fresh herbs. I repeated, "I forgive myself for not feeding myself like I love myself." My body can't handle grease, but I made burgers on a regular basis. I don't even like hamburgers. I added wheat flour back into my gluten free kitchen. For him. My kids only got store bought bread, but I made complete separate meals for him, justifying it by saying it was for the kids too.
Earlier this weekend I went on a first hiking trip. Sort of. The last time I tried hiking was a few months back and I was so exhausted I had to quit. I stood on top of the hill, looking over the ocean and thought, "I forgive myself for not going out to play more often."
I thought about my first trip to the Norton Simon Museum and the way it felt when I first saw one of the Degas pastels. I wondered when I stopped trying to recreate the feeling of art in my existence. "I forgive myself for barely existing to get through the next day instead of living like this is the only life I get to live."
I forgive myself and I'm giving myself permission to love myself again.
Resting
I spent a lot of time in bed this week. I've watched television. I've cried. I ate whatever sounded appealing. Some of it healthy. A lot of it not. (I actually drank a couple of sodas and ate all of the Christmas candy in my stocking.)
Mirror Time
It's been a while since I've really looked at myself like I loved myself, so I repeated what I was taught in a Self-Love Challenge I took the year before last sometime. I started in front of the mirror and my first thoughts were about my messy hair and the skin that looked like I forget to take off my makeup at night (always). I looked at my body that had grown two dress sizes in the last year. I closed my eyes while facing the mirror and thought about romantic love.
Specifically, I thought about someone I loved. I thought about my ex boyfriend. I thought about the laugh lines around his eyes and the way it felt when he held me. I thought about the morning snuggles and the late night kisses. I thought about how he looked when he was excited about something and talking about it. I thought about his curiosity about living creatures and his intensity when it came to Madden and football. I thought about the many things I loved and none of the things I hated. Then I opened my eyes. I saw what I look like when I'm thinking of someone I love and I let that land. I began to smile at myself because without make up on, and in yoga pants (that have never held a yoga pose), I was beautiful. My hair was a messy halo all around me. My eyes were puffy from crying. And in that moment, I was so beautiful to me. In this moment of not being perfect, I was perfectly beautiful and I loved myself.
One day I'll get back to looking at myself in my underwear and loving every curve I've got. It doesn't have to be today and I forgive myself for not being ready.
What do you love about yourself?
This has always been a tough question for me, but it was something I needed to remind myself of.
I'm coachable. I can listen to feedback and respond by accepting that I get to allow change in who I am so I can grow. I love myself enough to be willing to grow.
I love that I was able to love unconditionally. It didn't happen easily or even every moment, but I was able to remind myself that the heartbreak I feel is conditional love. It's an expectation that he had to stay for me to love him and that thought allows me to let go. I didn't expect anything but for him to be with me when he was with me. As much as I forgive myself, there was nothing for me to forgive of him. I knew who he was and I accepted him as he was.
I love that I can love myself without conditions. No matter what I eat, or how active I am, I love myself. I love myself through the pain of loss, and in moments when self care looks like neglecting to take care of myself. I love myself when I'm stressed and I love myself when I'm fully relaxed. I love myself when I dress up or when I look like I don't even own a mirror.
I love that I can accept accountability. I must admit that I don't feel I owe anyone answers or closure for my choices in life. I can also admit that there are times when I am wrong. I can apologize and correct my behavior when this happens and I could not always do so. And doing so is a choice I can make, not a reaction I have no control over.
Was the love I offered genuine? Did I only offer my mask?
Truthfully, I wasn't authentic with him. As much as I love myself through my highs and lows, I couldn't give that to him. I only allowed him to see my patience. He never saw my clingy moods or was even aware when I was next to him but feeling lonely. I only showed him part of who I am and as much as I loved him and felt my love for him, I didn't offer him the opportunity to see me without my mask. I was afraid to trust him enough to give my authentic self. Honestly, I was afraid to rely on him to the point where I couldn't accept his support. My reasoning was, if he gave me help, I would suffer when he left. His loss only means I miss him. I didn't need him, I wanted him. That says a lot about my inability to trust and share my vulnerability.
There's a lesson here.
Before I met my ex boyfriend, there was a lot of me pushing him away. He was consistently patient and he wanted to be with me. Before him, I wasn't sure I was relationship material. Before him, I couldn't imagine genuine love, or living with someone. I couldn't imagine getting past the second or third date.
I had a marriage that failed. I felt like I was a horrible wife and a terrible mother because I was convinced of this when my marriage fell apart.
Most interactions with other men fizzled away. It was fun to push and pull. I enjoyed freaking them out with talk about deep love that I didn't feel. I loved that I was way too intense for most of the men I was talking to. I enjoyed playing with the idea of a relationship that I knew wouldn't go anywhere. And then it did. I had a relationship that was more than a silly crush or an opportunity to write about my obsessive observations.
In this relationship I saw that I was playing small with my romantic life. In this relationship I realized I could be in a real partnership. Yes, this relationship fell apart. But in so many ways, it was a relationship that mirrored my marriage. In so many ways, the same issues came up and it helped me realize that it's not just me. As much as I made space, as much as I made the kids make space, I realized I was making so much space for someone else that I wasn't making space for the things I enjoy and love. As much as he told me what wasn't working for him, I noticed but kept quiet about what wasn't working for me. And I saw the way I stepped back from who I am meant to be, to make space for his happiness. And again, I forgive myself.