“Trust me, I’m telling you stories. … I can change the story. I am the story.” ? Jeanette Winterson
My personal information, family and spirituality are very sacred to me. Protecting my stories became ingrained childhood survival tools, and well, because I always knew the stories didn’t just belong to me. This need has become increasingly important since learning I was reluctantly drafted to the C* team.
Our stories intertwine with the stories of others.
Our historical stories naturally tell stories about others. Sometimes the story of others are brought in to embellish our own personal struggle.
Sometimes we forget to ask permission. Sometimes connections get made. Sometimes we are oblivious to our actions.
I struggled with this issue last week.
Morally grey. Legally black and white.
I really struggled.
More than I wanted to.
Meditation, conversation and prayer……happened. So did anger and hurt.
My prayers probably aren’t conventional or even proper when I am struggling.
I can’t describe exactly who I pray to only that it is a Universal God- a God I am up close and personal with, and who shows up in many forms. My God has a sense of humor and cuts me some slack when I need it. God is my spirit guides who usually show up to kick my ass if I am not paying attention–mostly dreams. Note: Write that shit down. I have learned how to remember them all. The Crone [I call her the feisty grandmother] usually does the ass kicking. She brought me the words TRUTH and FORGIVENESS to sit with recently.
We all have very private reasons for protecting pieces of our story that is sacred… I am one of THOSE people.
Sometimes we say we forgive, but we don’t really mean it. It’s hard. I’m an over thinker. UGH. I’m getting there.
This is for all of you with your toes gripping the cliffs of fear for speaking your truth. For those who are moments from stepping back because the fear of calling someone out feels too hard. It’s for you half-breathless with worry over the future– the betrayed and heartbroken. It’s for the one carrying old wounds and shame around stuffed in luggage packed too tight.
It’s for every soul forcing their feet to move forward, every day when everything in you wants to take that safe path back to the past.
Mostly it’s for those trying so hard to forgive. It’s for all of us confused about where our real selves live–then realizing we never left. It’s for everyone who has ever felt wronged, discarded, or disrespected and didn’t speak up in that moment.
Be brave. Speak.
This is for everyone who finally realized that we cannot change others. No amount of love, hate, guilt or shame can do that. AND that our expectations of how people should act does more harm to us than good. It’s about the power of forgiving ourselves for allowing IT and them for taking liberties.
It’s for those who got a heads up, who paid attention to the left hand column, and all those who really wanted to cause a shit storm to prove a point. It’s for the sticklers, the ruminators and those of us that analyze the shit out of every hurtful behavior by others.
This is for the ones who have said too much, shared too much, trusted too much.
It’s for those who hold the belief “they should know better.”
It’s for everyone of us that has mis-spoke, broken trust, lied, deflected and repeated stories not ours to tell without permission.
This is for those who have learned that they hold the only answers ever needed in this life to forgive, and let that last piss off go.
It’s for everyone of us creating new karma, you know, the things we can’t let go of in this life continue to re-run on our current stage. This is for all the smoldering garbage we drag around.
This is for those who can’t recognize their own ego when they wield it. Who seek praise at all costs, are careless with the sacredness of others, and have become addicted to their projections.
This is about Forgiveness: AKA. Let that shit go.
This is for anyone who has forgiven someone for the moment, but then been upset with them for the same thing hours or days later?
It’s for those who check their circles often, and check themselves, and know when to stop checking. For those who know that forgiveness can happen when our hearts grasp the significance of the frailty of the human condition. This is for the times we have ALL fucked up. This is for the opportunity to choose how we handle it. This is for those who accept responsibility-or not.
This is for those thinking “oh fuck off” right now.
This is for those who run to write it all down. It’s for everyone needing to protect and claim their stories, expose their truth, and then release it all.
It’s a reminder not to allow anyone to write with your pen.
This is for anyone who writes in anger and then lets the words sit and marinate. This is an acknowledgment of how ink to paper softens the soul. Letting it feel it’s own way around your heart.
I let this marinate…
May 31, 2015-My personal journal entry.
“ I AM not your muse, or the story that helps you put your stuff out there. I AM not the catalyst for reviewing your life and assessing your convictions. My story does not belong to you. Be your own force. I AM not your tragic topic of conversation, or the juice that fuels the hushed gossip. I AM not a sob story to repeat, a diversion, or the worse than your own life example to refer to. I AM not your “shits gotta change” motivator or your something to feel sorry for that neutralizes life when things are bad in your corner. I AM not your sympathy stash or your feel good memory when you need to conjure up compassion. I AM the sole owner of my story. I stand in my everything.”
So, this is for all of you who will never stand by and allow others to project their illusion of your story.
This is for every one of you perfectly messy flawed souls just like me who mostly choose to navigate this life on the dirt roads through deep ditches.
This is for everyone of us.
P.S. Oh, and the God I pray to owns a 4 wheel drive with a toe-rope, with an emergency corkscrew for dire emergencies.