The Gift of Forgiveness
Every week my school sends out an email reminder about Forgiveness Fridays. I typically delete it, move on with the attendance phone calls, students at my desk, nosebleeds and the chaos of my day. Once in a while I will make an attempt, and inhale in good karma, with a smile at something small and almost entirely forgivable. For instance, the person who quick got ahead of me turning right into our school parking lot *just* as I was turning left is easily forgiven because we were both late, I mean, really, truly and equally late. Many times, that short, deep breath leads me to a bigger breath and bigger forgiveness, but by many, I mean, three or four times ever. As Kevin Hart says, I’m just being honest.
I think I’m pretty good at small acts of forgiveness. The trick is to picture that you just did that thing that someone did to you. Would you forgive you for yelling at you on the phone for a lost budget receipt? Yes, yes you would. Because budget receipts aren’t people, but those in control of your budget receipts are fragile and hard working people. And when, even for a split second, you picture yourself in the shoes of that person at the other end of the phone, then it makes all the sense in the world to let it go.
But after years of hurt, it’s hard to inhale the good, blow out the bad, and try to fill a gaping wound with grains of positive sand. I used to wear my hurt on my sleeve and it was obvious -- I felt like everyone could see it because it was so clear and right to me and it weighed so heavily that I could not remove it from my surroundings. My feelings never really hid, but I did. I changed plans, graciously bowed out of opportunities, danced in the back just to help my feelings stay hidden. I don’t exactly have an “everything is all right and ask me all the questions you want and let’s bake a cake together” face. I have more of an “absorbing all of your bullshit before I find the perfect words to not say” face. Add old hurt to it and my face looks like RBF’s Halloween costume.
Today was different. I felt like myself around people I had not seen in years. I inhaled the positive energy of 20+ fitness instructors and another 30+ fitness fans. I blew out the negativity from my morning and welcomed old friends in the spaces that used to be old hurt. I listened while others vented, I remained Switzerland (I hope) and soaked in the talents of my friends and they blissfully glided across a stage and around the dance floor. I let my red lipstick cake my front teeth with abandon and my face ached from joy. I have not felt this inner peace in my little “community” in a very long time. And it was my gift to myself to allow it to happen.
Change, deep, loving change, does not happen while we wait for others to love us. It is a choice to sit still and look in a mirror and say “I matter”. No matter what is said on social media, or how many glares I get for being confident (you can call me a Nasty Woman if you want), or the times I’ve felt alone because one voice was the loudest and the crowd was so quiet, I know when I look in the mirror now that I like me. Finally, I like me. And the more I say “I like me”, the more I smile and relax and the words “I love me” gain momentum. And once “I love me” takes hold, there is no going back into past hurt and hiding in the back of the room and questioning “why?” with warm, wet tears. There is only the decision to wake up each day with open eyes, open arms, and an open heart. There is only the decision to inhale the good, forgive what is gone, and breathe out the bad. Over and over again, I choose to inhale the good, forgive all that is gone, and accept the gift of letting go.
