Freedom

 I live my life with kindness.  I am intentional about it.  I have been through my own fair share of pain and it has humbled me.  I have been loved at my absolute worst, and I think we all deserve to be loved unconditionally without judgement.  That is the imprint my struggles have left on my heart.  They have filled me with grace and empathy for others.  

So if you could hear the messages that run through my head, you would be shocked at the cruelty of my words.  Because I am my own worst critic.  The messages I repeat to myself, the tapes that play in my head, I would never say such things to another human being.  I would never say these words to strangers, let alone someone I loved.  I would never say these things to someone who had been broken and wounded so deeply.  To that someone, I would tell them how loved and worthy they are.  I would fill their cup with grace, encouragement and patience.  I wouldn't dwell on their failures.  I would focus on the rise because that's where the real story is, in the rise from the fall.

And yet, so often I am unable to extend that grace to myself.  I still carry regrets with me, such heavy regrets.  I can't seem to let go of the past or forgive myself for decisions I made.  I can say to someone else, be kind to yourself - you were doing the best that you could at the time.  But I can't say those words to myself.  It's like I'm trapped in this cage of self-doubt and shame.  And the air is so thick with disappointment and regret that it's hard to breathe.  And there is nothing more that I want than to be set free from this cage.  

This cage that is made of messages from my past.  Things that I didn't even write, but somehow, they've become part of my script.  You are not enough.  You are not lovable.  You are a disappointment.  You are a failure.  On and on they go, sometimes so loud that they drown out all the other voices.  And the louder they get, the smaller I get.  Those cruel words can erase the triumph of the victory of overcoming and leave me huddled on the floor of this god-forsaken cage, punishing myself for all that went wrong.

I had a rough day and found myself at my mom's crying about the past.  Those old wounds had resurfaced and were filling me with fear and insecurity leaving me paralyzed and unable to trust myself to move forward.  I asked her if she was disappointed in me.  Without hesitation she shook her head and told me no.  And of course I reminded her of my resume of four kids, two different dads, two failed marriages, one bankruptcy... She looked at me and asked me why I keep dwelling on the past.  She doesn't see failure, she sees a mother who would do anything for her kids and a woman that has weathered two storms and is still standing strong.  That is not the woman I see cowering in that cage.

And you know what I realized in that moment?  I built this cage.  No one else.  Not the authors of those messages or the cruel perpetrators of my wounds.  Me.  I built this cage around myself.  I stepped in, and I locked the door.

But, I have the key.

I always have.  I've been looking for a way out of this cage; a way to escape the heaviness of all those regrets and losses.  But I'm not trapped in here.  The way out has been in my own hands this entire time.  And it is not found in replaying the past and beating myself up over what has already been done.  I just have to turn the key, open the door, and walk out.  I just have to leave and choose not to live in that space any longer.  It sounds simplistic, but I've come to this place in my journey where it really is that simple.  I know where I've been.  And I've done the work, I just need to trust it and stop looking back.

It's time to stop letting others write the script in my head.  It's my story, and it's time I pick up that pen and start writing my own script.  Start singing my own song - a song filled with words of love and inspiration.  Those unkind and untrue messages can't keep me entrapped any longer.  Because I figured it out.  I have the key.

Freedom.