You have been unfriended.
I let you go.
“Let him go,” my person said to me tonight, eyes warm, soft, gentle, holding me every step of the way.
I have let so much go.
So much it is unreal.
I have walked through an unwieldy mess of emotions and feelings, grief, sorrow, joy, reprise, replete, repeat, let go, surrender.
There were many tears tonight when I met my person.
Especially when I feel safe, I can be vulnerable and express my feelings and though there were many tears, they were great big tears of relief.
“This is a huge forgiveness piece for you around your mother,” my person said.
I could have easily called this blog, “If it’s not you, it’s my mother.”
I laughed out loud when I heard that.
But it’s the truth.
There has been a seismic shift in my relationship with my mother, my memory, my life, my childhood, all the things and place and sorrows whereof.
A, yes, a deep forgiveness.
“You still need to bring up all this with a therapist,” my person said, “that’s going to be a part of your program, isn’t it?”
The therapist in training, moi, will be doing therapy as a part of my Masters in Psychology program.
It doesn’t happen for a little while yet, but I have already experienced some of it in the work that I have done with my cohort and to be honest, it has been the school work that has helped lead me to this opening in my heart and this re-organizing of my emotions around my mom.
I used to joke, I guess used to is not exactly on point, since i said it on Sunday to an acquaintance at the cafe, “I was raised by wolves, well meaning wolves, but wolves nonetheless.”
Yesterday I had this very insightful conversation with my mom about some family origin stuff, I found out some things about my mom, about my dad, about my beginnings, and it was like so many puzzle pieces connecting.
I saw blue skies.
I saw joy.
I saw so much sorrow and grief and I saw a way out and through.
I have been on this way out and through for a very long time.
I have done so much work.
I suppose the gift is that I will continue to get to do this work, there are new places to delve, new revelations to be had, new angles, there will be more of this path to walk down.
I had this strange moment while I was out at the park with my charges and it just ran through me, call your mom.
And I did.
And we talked.
Suffice to say it was pretty private and personal and because so much of what was revealed was not actually about me, although it affected me greatly and a times very gravely, it is not my place to reveal what was revealed to me.
At least not in this forum.
I have already decided that I will be writing a paper on it, the experience and the exchange of information, it was very relevant to a final paper project that I have to work on for school.
I’ll be hitting that bad boy out of the park come Sunday.
I’m not ready for Sunday yet, let me stay here in today for a little while yet.
I can say, quite unequivocally that I am no longer going to carry around grief that is not mine.
I am not a repository for my mother’s grief any longer.
I did not say that to her, that shift in perspective did not happen until today, this morning, when, yes, ugh, I was at yoga and I was in a bind.
I did a binding pose that I have not hit once since starting yoga two months ago, but today, I reached for it and my heart lifted and I felt this burst of joy, a great wave of it, a tidal pool of it, a tsunami of emotions.
I almost laughed out loud with the happy.
Maybe not bawled, that sounds like it was loud, it was not loud, although it felt deafening at one point to be so sluiced in feelings.
I’m not going to carry her sorrow any more, I told myself.
It was washed away, my mother’s grief and pain and sorrow, her losses and misfortunes these are not my burdens, I don’t have to carry them.
I don’t know that I was ever properly asked and the tragedy of that is that I am only realizing this now.
The amazing, awesome, hot damn news.
Is that I am realizing it at all.
I love my mom.
She did the best she could and if you had said that to me at certain points in my life I would have told you to go hit the crack pipe again and get back to me.
I always felt like that was an excuse, sorry it was so rough kiddo, I was just doing the best I could.
But in between the spaces, the lines of telephone wires looping through the history of our shared and divergent paths, there was a shift and I got it.
I got it.
I got it!
And it’s not mine to carry, never was, I don’t own it, I can let it go, I can be washed away, the names and places, the stories and traumas and dramas, all just crenellated peaks in the dunes at Ocean Beach, the stars wink back to me over the storm dark seas and I was washed clean.
Gasping for breath, yet, so in my body, so present, tears leaking down my face, but also a joy and gratitude.
A happiness that was solace to my soul.
A lifting up.
A, yes, heart opening.
And I walk through.
Drifted into the happy, joyous, free of the deep blue sky.
The sky of my childhood, bright blue, like his eyes when I was a young girl, face pressed to the window of the long yellow school bus as it rolled in between the cornfields on the way to school in Wisconsin.
The woman burgeoning with promise, escaping still, for many year yet to go, but she is there in my heart, and she is free to move on.
Let him go.
Let her go.
Let myself go.
Fly so high into the promise of those bright blue skies.
Above this world, the cusp of the soul of God calling to me.
The smile of heaven above me.
And all the world below me.
It’s all love.
That’s all the feeling I need now from my mother.
Just the love and letting go of anything other than that.
I act on my own.
As my own woman.
I am free.
Free to move about my world carrying only those things and feelings that serve me in joy.
Not only is that all.