Forgiving is liberating

Yesterday I told my mom I forgive her.

I discovered in the last month how vulnerable I can be. I spent a good part of my life judging my mother for the ramifications of her vulnerability (for both of us) in years past.

Not until I was brought to my knees by the manipulation of my own vulnerability (something that I seemed to invite) was I ever able to appreciate what her own trauma must have been.

When you are a willing party to your own destruction, you self-hate, and worst of all, you lose self-esteem.

But my mom's ultimate lesson was to be a survivor, and not just to survive, but to prosper with compassion.

As they say, "it's not how you fall down, but how you get up."

So yesterday I told my mom I understand, I finally have empathy for what she went through...what we went through.

One simple sentence over the phone, and it felt like our relationship changed forever.

Thank you

For all the retort. I use a formal word to represent the fundamental substance all your listening and feed-back provided to me recently. I've always prided myself as a good listener, and the last month I feel like I've been cashing in on some of that compassionate capital.

Sometimes your words ignited a rush of thoughts or emotion that released me from my former constricted attention, and often your tangible availability echoed to me like sounding board, a persistent refrain of calm. But always your words unfolded into an umbrella, one that emboldened me with the initiative to look forward...rolling and riding on a cushion of cheddar, a cheese that resists my hedonistic and clumsy chops, yet all the same, lines my back.