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The truth of it …
It’s been a rough few weeks.
And because I must always be honest in order to feel any serenity at all – I’m sharing an ugly part of it with you.
Last month I shared that I lost my job – since then my son gained one. He’s been away a lot, staying with my mom in a neighboring State to cut down on his commute.
I on the other hand, had been home a lot, and his absence filled every room with a palpable foreshadowing.
I then received an urgent call from my landlady.
She was warning me that she had finally presented my nightmare neighbors with paperwork, and that it did not go well and they were angry with me apparently.
The truth of it was that after all the traffic, drugs, domestic violence and general disregard for the community – the community had had enough.
She tried to tell them that it was more than one complaint from more than one neighbor. But they had decided the closest to them was the snitch.
I knew what they were capable of, so to learn this was in short, terrifying.
My routine had to change – I feared they might harm Butters, my dog, in my absence. I feared another attack on my car during the night. I wasn’t so concerned about them breaking in and doing me bodily harm, but still had a hard time falling to sleep – and am keeping weapons at my bedside.
Add to this that I found myself in the middle of a triangle of toxicity when it came to matters of the heart.
I was lonely. Scared. Had too much time to think and had too many things going on – my serenity was shot and my stomach cramped with emotional discomfort while my heart ached.
Night after night I looked across at an empty couch.
It isn’t so much that Nicholas wasn’t sitting on it. He’s spreading his beautiful wings and while I miss him, I’m proud of his ability to fly.
It was that nobody was sitting on it.
Problem is, I know myself well enough to know that I don’t want anyone constantly on the couch across from me – and yet I was lonely.
I walked around the house in a fog.
One night – as I was taking my medicine, I had the thought ‘I could take ALL of my medicine.’
This thought didn’t hang uncomfortably in the air – it blended into the room as if it belonged there.
I could take ALL the medicine and cease to be.
At that moment of time, I was terrifyingly okay with that.
I felt I’ve seen and done more than 100 lifetimes. I felt my role in my son’s life was shrinking to nonexistence. I felt I would never be loved the way that I loved. I felt so completely depleted of all my hopes and energy that I had nothing further to do here.
And God how I love life!
I do.
I have SUCH gratitude for my humble shelter – the food in my kitchen – the pictures in clouds and the beauty of weeds. I seek out good everywhere I look – I love to the nth degree and I cherish every friend and loved one in my life.
And still I stood staring down thinking ‘I could take ALL of my medicine.’
It breaks my heart.
But at the same time, there was a beauty in letting myself feel that pain and hopelessness – I knew I was being what I always strive to be. Authentic.
I wasn’t brushing the thought away like an annoying gnat with a ‘Don’t be silly.’
I KNEW I would not do it. I knew this. But I knew the thought was very, very real and could not be discounted.
It forced me to look at, then let out – all my pent-up emotions.
It forced me to stop for a moment – without flitting from dishes to dog and errands to emails and look myself, literally in the eyes.
I stood at the mirror, leaned over my bathroom sink and noticed myself.
There she was.
Amanda.
A real person who had been wearing herself so thin and worrying herself physically sick.
Miss independent – unsure if she could provide. Miss solitary – needing company. Miss brave – afraid to go outside.
And as Butters looked sadly at me, missing her boy – and not understanding why she had to be locked in the house all day – I felt completely lost and vulnerable.
But I felt.
And I always do – so deeply.
And though sadness overwhelms me – so does joy. I love in vibrant color with a panchromatic heart.
And I am content with ‘enough’ and I do not want ‘ALL’.
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I could poetically end there – but that would not be honest.
Things are looking up, they always do.
There is always hope waiting for those who can look at their lives and choose to live it.
I have an amazing job opportunity just around the corner, although, I’ll probably always have a healthy fear of not being able to provide the necessities.
I’m still sleeping with several weapons at my bedside, but so far so good as far as the neighbors go.
I’m still lonely, but this is a good thing for me! I used to think I didn’t have the capacity to need anyone. Craving human interaction is definitely a step in a healthy direction.
I have incredible friends that love me and show up.
I have a loving family that I can count on.
The world is so beautiful – and the universe is carving new paths all the time.
And I’m willing to walk them.
Slipping through my fingers
I just returned from a special day with my mom.
Driving home it was 111 degrees in my car, but I had goosebumps on my skin while listening to this song.
It is our song – no doubt.
We both cried the first time we saw this scene in a local movie theater. For different reasons I thought at the time, but now I’m not so sure.
I had chosen the soundtrack for the car ride today as it was our special mother-daughter day.
She mentioned Dancing Queen and how she related to it and to the part of the movie when Meryl Streep said “I used to have fun.”
She told me one day I would understand.
I reminded her that ‘one day’ had come.
I look back now at the days before I was a mother. When I was the Dancing Queen – young and, okay, not so sweet. But God did I live!
I know she did too.
She was young and beautiful and had hopes and dreams.
I do understand.
I keep catching up to points in her life all the time – and all the while she’s having new experiences that ‘one day’ I’ll understand.
“Do I really see what’s in her mind
Each time I think I’m close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time”
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I wonder if my mom knows how much she still means to me.
I watched her today, on a spa table.
She was on her back, eyes closed – golden red hair splayed out around her and she looked … so beautiful.
“Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it …”
I said nothing for a while – just stared at her.
This woman who was my entire world when I was that school girl.
She lay there, very still, lit by artificial light – as if she were no longer alive.
I couldn’t bear the thought of it.
“You’ll make a beautiful corpse.” I said.
She smiled.
We have a wicked sense of humor.
“Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers
Slipping through my fingers all the time”
The thing about becoming a mother, is that it’s the exact moment we realize how much our own mothers love us!
Then in necessary irony, the universe shifts the pull of gravity from her to our own children.
But as my child becomes a man, I find an unmistakable pull back to the woman who once had my whole heart.
Today I wanted to soak up every second I had with her – catching glimpses of the woman who once sat brushing my hair, making my porridge, stroking my forehead.
“Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she’s gone, there’s that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can’t deny”
As I dropped her off home – we both said our I love you’s and good-bye’s … I suddenly wanted to never say good-bye.
I wanted my head in her lap as she stroked my forehead – I wanted to see her dance and to talk about her hopes and dreams.
She got out of the car and turned and waved …
“Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness”
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Defining Forgiveness
Forgiveness.
Through processing how to authentically achieve this, I became so stuck on the definition I had in my head, I all but decided there were some people I could never forgive!
I knew I had to change my definition.
It’s easy for me to forgive someone when they’ve owned their responsibility, changed their behavior and are not repeating the same patterns and ceased to harm.
It’s also easy for me to forgive when I can understand that something in someone is broken.
And to be honest, it’s easy for me to forgive when what they have done reflects my own past indiscretions.
If I am guilty of having once caused the same harm to another, I have empathy which goes a long way to my original definition of forgiving.
Or perhaps, if I’m really being honest – forgiving those who have perpetrated a wrong doing that I have been guilty of – affords me some measure of absolution for my own behavior.
And that is wrong.
Not being a religious person, I can’t turn to theological definitions or procedure when it comes to forgiveness. I can be open to their ideas of course, many truths are universal and have a common thread in a variety of cultures and religious teachings.
But here I thought I couldn’t begin the process of forgiveness until I felt completely ready to pardon the person who had harmed me – and I don’t do things in half measures.
I love, detest, work and forgive with my whole heart, body and soul – or not at all.
This is not an easy topic – so I reached out to some friends for their thoughts and definitions, I said ‘There’s no right answers’.
I also asked, is forgiveness Selfish or Selfless? And so the sharing began to flow.
I’ll use only their first names – but here is a sampling of responses:
Scot: there is nothing selfish about authentic forgiveness. It is needed for personal happiness. As long as we struggle with attachment to things, emotional responses, memories or make decisions based from an attachment based place we are not exhibiting authentic forgiveness. And that is selfish. Because of the attachment to self or ego if you prefer.
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Selina: I’ve stopped forgiving , it is like giving that person an extra bullet and say here its ok try again :)) in my mind I eliminate them from my thoughts other words their are deceased, now it takes the most dirtiest despicable low life conniving ugly person to make me cut them out of my life but I have run across a couple of them but I now feel relieved I cut ties and saved me the stress:)))
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Haley: You find compassion for others for being human and flawed, and you forgive them. In return, you can more easily and often do the same for yourself….and in doing so- let go of all those nasty “shoulds”, both for yourself and for others, that drive us all insane.
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Ann: Forgiveness is a gift. Given for the satisfaction of giving, inspiring, sharing. It is not selfish however it is given in most part for self fulfillment. One cannot be fully sure of how the gift will be received and or appreciated…..that falls to the recipient. If I apologize to you for whatever reason and you spit back at me I still, if genuinely given, have the pleasure of doing what was right for me. If you embrace my apology well then even better. Forgiveness is a gift…..intended for the pleasure of both giver and receiver. If it does not work out it is still a gift. Kinda like the Christmas gift from great Aunt Edna of a box of jello. She knows you love jello and it makes her happy to think of you enjoying that fun delicious treat.
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Jennifer: God forgives us, so we should forgive others.
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Alyce: My take on forgiveness, you can be hurt really badly by someone- but a time comes when we no longer wish them ill or mentally wish for retaliation etc. We don’t need to go out of our way to befriend them or spend time with them, but we are free from wishing harm to come to them, we wish them well in their world.
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I love that everyone spoke from their heart.
I cherish diversity – and while I agreed with parts of all of their opinions, I still wasn’t finding that one thing that clicked in my heart and summed things up for me until I read this:
That I can do!
The fact is, that when we are harmed, damage occurs.
That saying: ‘You don’t drink poison and expect your enemy to die’ rings true, we do have to let go and move beyond our pain – we are only hurting ourselves further and stunting our growth if we sit in our pain.
It’s certainly not exacting revenge on the perpetrator, in fact, it maintains their power.
I then thought of the saying and took it to another level – most people don’t purposely drink the poison.
Those with scars stemming from suffering forced upon them are in fact victims – having had something toxic poured into them without consent.
What happens after it’s inside you?
That is entirely up to you.
You can remain a victim, or you can begin to heal.
You may not have a way to heal the physical damage or erase the memories of the taste of the posion in your mouth.
It may take time until the sensation of the hand that wielded the metaphorical or literal weapon or the smells/sounds/sense memories burned into your subconscious during the offense begin to fade.
But out it must come if there is to be any chance!
There are labels on poisonous household liquids – ‘if swallowed, do not induce vomiting’. The reason for that is that it can do more harm to come into contact with your fragile insides once more.
Debilitating pain from injury and abuse are just as toxic, but MUST be purged.
Coming back up is bound to be painful – but necessary.
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I had the great honor of speaking to someone yesterday who is, for me, the epitome of forgiveness. Mrs. Eva Mozes Kor.
I reached out to her for wisdom – this is a woman who is strong, independent, funny, kind and oh so wise.
She is a twin survivor of Dr. Mengele’s experiments at Auschwitz.
Even at such a tender age, she was determined to live through her ordeal. She was orphaned, suffered unimaginably at the hands of Mengele and teetered between life and death – determined to survive to save herself and her sister.
Then years later … she forgave the Nazis.
Where does that strength come from???
I needed to know.
I wanted to speak with this amazing woman for any advice she might have about life in general.
I was to call her at 1:00 O’Clock – all day I glanced at the clock and when it was time, all I could do was stare at the phone.
The moment I heard her voice say my name, all nerves washed away.
Her first question to me: “Do you want to be free?”
Yes. Yes I wanted to be free.
I had no intention of interviewing her – of mentioning our chat here. I only wanted, as a woman, and student of life, to soak up lessons she could pass on to me.
But after our long conversation, I was fixated on ‘forgiveness’, knew I must write about the topic and sent her a message asking if I could include some of her words in this piece.
Her response was an enthusiastic yes.
“My Dear Amanda,
Forgiveness is my mission, my passion and my salvation from a life of victim hood. Once I discovered this simple idea, which is free and everybody can afford it. I am willing to climb to a mountain top and yell at the top of my voice; Forgive your worst enemy, and forgive everybody who has hurt you, it will heal your soul and set you free. Forgiveness is an act of self liberation, self-healing and self empowerment. Anger is a seed for war, forgiveness is a seed for peace. So, Amanda, by all means help me sow those seeds for peace into this troubled world.”
And so I shall.
I share with you what her answer was to my question: So then what is the difference between acceptance and forgiveness?
She went on to say that the perpetrators need not even know they have been forgiven. You are taking your power back in the simple act of forgiving.
She gave me an assignment, which I will be doing. And now that I have a better understanding, and new definition of forgiveness, I feel I will get it all out and succeed.
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The last thoughts I have on this topic are these.
If you cannot find it in your heart to authentically forgive another – forgive yourself.
Forgive yourself for being in fear, for not feeling strong enough to release the pain.
We are only human after all.
When the time is right – it will happen.
This is another thing Eva shared with me – it does take time!
I laughed, as I did a lot during our conversation and said: “Will I really have to twirl on a hill? It’s really hot outside.”
And to laugh – and to seek answers and to want to learn and grow is a great way to begin to process forgiveness.
Gently into water
The thing is … lately I feel like I’ve been ‘wrapping things up’.
Letting those who mean something to me know it.
Giving back treasured memories of the past to the people they belong to.
My writing has not been good lately.
I know it.
My positive attitude has taken a turn.
I know this too.
I know it – and don’t have the energy to change it.
I’ve reached emotional, physical and mental exhaustion.
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Someone received an arrangement at work a couple of weeks ago – and I became caretaker.
The vase was bursting with vibrant color and fresh cut blooms.
As they faded and withered, I removed them.
One by one.
I kept doing this – refusing to throw them all out because some part of the whole had passed on.
It came down to one stemless flower this past week.
I found the smallest container I could, and placed it gently in the water.
I couldn’t find it in my heart to throw it out while it still had some life in it.
While it still looked so beautiful.
It wasn’t finished.
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Contrary to this, I found my pen writing the most obscene sentence in my own diary last week.
That I had been having fleeting thoughts of death.
Mine.
Thinking that perhaps all that I was here to do had been done – and all that I hoped for might never be.
Perhaps not meant to be.
And that ink bled out onto the page with such rawness and so bravely – that I allowed the pen to finish the sentence.
And I’m not ashamed.
Because thinking of things does not make them so.
And because allowing myself to admit something so dark, even to the pages of a book no one will read – shocked me necessarily.
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I find the smallest light I can find – and gently place myself in it.
I give my soul water – salty – and shed when I am alone.
I continue to share my memories with those who made them with me.
I don’t stop telling people how important they are – how loved.
And I steady myself for what the future might hold – and know that I’m strong.
Worth Waiting For
I have very good instincts.
I have always been able to trust my gut – having said that, this does not mean I’ve always made the right choices.
In my past, I definitely self sabotaged. Let people into my life that satisfied a need to treat myself poorly or provided a lesson I needed to learn.
But, still I knew who they were and what I was getting into deep down.
I’m healthier now – I’ve worked out most of my demons – I’ve grown and blossomed.
I need to trust that – and not the opinions of others.
To be honest, this past year, I let doubt and negativity in and allowed my faith to waiver.
Not anymore.
I was never more certain my trust has been placed in the right hands than I was yesterday.
I was renewed with patience. With affirmation that what I’ve put my life on hold for is worth it. Not only is it worth it – it IS my life.
I couldn’t love someone who didn’t have a passion – who didn’t think of others or want to better the world by being of service somehow. Whether that be education, art, charity …
Selfishness is ugly.
There is nothing less attractive than a soul wrapped up in self.
I’ve felt guilty of this when I’ve privately pouted that I could not have the person I wait for sooner. The selfless thing to do IS to wait.
I feel with every fiber of my soul that what the object of my affection is doing something so much more important and so much bigger than ‘us’.
I do not say this as a martyr. I say this as an educated member of humanity. It is truth.
I can wait.
And I know what I’m waiting for is worth it. I know this.
And I know I can trust my instincts.
















