Tag Archives: forgiveness

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

November 17, 2015

It’s so easy to focus on the deficit, the wants or the challenge. Shaking free of that debilitating mindset takes a commitment to forgiving yourself, loving others in their language, and a clarity of judgment to know which voices serve you and which do not.

Most importantly, for obstinate personalities like me, it takes an occasional trimming. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

You see, being a mompreneur, a new parent and a new wife in a new town with two new stepkids and a new rhythm to life all added up to a hazy sense of entitlement. I sacrificed so much, I told myself. I gave birth, for heaven’s sake. I am only one person, I pleaded with the universe.

I wanted to hold on to the former, comfortable identity I had worked years to manifest. I still wanted to design my day, own every bit of my time, and put my wildly creative and random conversations at the front of the queue.

So, in mature fashion, I planted my feet, crossed my arms and, honestly, threw a big ol’ temper tantrum about how unfair everyone else’s needs were on me. I cited my limited time, my limited sleep, my limited patience. Waa, waaa, waaaa. It was honest, candid, brutal, blunt, what have you . . . in short, it was me being a hypocrite.

A few of my wants:

  • 15 minutes extra in the shower to condition my hair and reflect
  • No interruptions when working in my office
  • Zero questions that didn’t feel valid (how dare they ask “What are we having for dinner?”)
  • No staying up past the baby’s bedtime, as I clung to that precious window of sleep
  • No midday calls to check-in or share stories
  • Absolutely no taking away my Starbucks cafe time or midweek lunches
  • Two hours (scheduled at my discretion) to catch up on shows or blogs, whatever pleased me
  • Unfiltered spending on my sweet angel (fluffy lamb, it’s yours; cute shoes, let’s get ’em)

Was I hurting? Yes. Was I exhausted? Yes, still am. Was I craving intellectual stimulation? Yes. Was I trying to serve others? Yes. Was I doing it with a gracious heart? No. Ahhhh, and there’s the rub. “Service” without the smile is just obligation.

You can choose to perceive how thoughtless, selfish, demanding and flighty others are. Or, you can turn the mirror of clarity and see those very same unsightly traits in yourself. Certainly, no one is perfect. Thank the Lord for that.

It was all a cry for help and a resistance to sacrificing self. Deeper than that it was an inability to ask for help and a fear of losing self.

Funny how we tell the world how much we do, say we do it without expectation and even keep giving in productive ways to benefit others. But, the magical realization is that no gift is truly effective with strings and no one, especially me, can expect others to cater to their microcosm of wants. I had to trim back on the pity, adopt a more compassionate view of my family and set some healthy boundaries.

With those actions in motion, I started to feel liberated from guilt and wanted to enhance that freeing feeling by lightening my body to match my spirit. So, I turned to an organization I have supported before: Locks of Love.

I went to see the talented, charming Demi at Halo Hair Studio. I told her I wanted to donate at least the minimum 10 inches. And here’s what happened . . .

Hair to My Waist

Hair to My Waist

Over 12 Inches Trimmed

Over 12 Inches Trimmed

Donation to Locks of Love

Donation to Locks of Love

Final Style

Final Style

As I got my haircut, I thought about my behavior, burdens and desires. My behavior needed to be improved for both my loved ones and my own well-being. My burdens were self-chosen and could fall to the salon floor. My desires should be honored and voiced respectfully, not by clinging to a sense of entitlement.

By the time I left the chair, I felt lighter, invigorated and more my vibrant self. The lesson is in listening to the voices that serve you and silencing the ones that cause you distress.

I was lucky enough to be able to send my locks along to a little girl, whom I hope feels my love and the swirly curly joy each strand possesses.

It Ain’t Always Easy

February 23, 2014

While my fifth grade grammar teacher will be displeased with this title, “ain’t” is exactly the right word to emphasize the unruly nature of life. Being hopeful, being upbeat and being productive are fabulous . . . but along the way, give yourself some slack for being human.

I honestly love how God gives me lessons wrapped in trial and frosted with “ah ha, got it.” This week was certainly a not so easy week and, no, that is not a cry for pity or outreach. It’s purely an acknowledgment that even the hopeful have frustrating days. After all, it’s these murky moments that help us appreciate the gleaming glow of the good times.

So, life humbled me. It turns out that striving for greater physical stamina, tone and balance comes with an initial oh-man-the-scale-hates-me-and-my-body-aches-in-weird-places feeling. Unexpected food intolerances, waves of stress, the usual smattering of work and life obligations, dehydration from poor planning, and pesky hormones (yes, I said the dreaded word . . . run, run screaming) all add to the mix.

I’m being honest, people. It’s rarely just one challenge that keeps us from pushing through to our greater self. Sometimes the universe likes to test our resolve on multiple levels and make us really work for it. Bingo, that’s my week. I prayed, I hoped, I reset, I muscled through, I whined, I cried, I laughed, I wrote and, finally, I accepted.

Not an acceptance of status quo, not this Scottish lass. It’s acceptance of the journey. Like muscle fiber, we have to break down our former selves to rebuild stronger and more aware. Seeing your confidence ebb away on the treadmill, check. Feeling every bit of allure and appeal dripping away, check. Wondering why the woman in the mirror feels so beaten, check. Letting go of all resistance to asking and accepting help . . . ok, still working on this one.

Then, there are the expectations of others that we dwell on. Perhaps, you long for more responsiveness, more compassion, more assistance or more of a connection. And what are you doing to foster that outcome? And are you being open with yourself and others about your needs? For instance, I have high standards of others and, likewise, have to hold myself to the same high standards. This means not being a hypocrite, not merely hinting at what you desire and not avoiding direct dialogue.

When it ain’t easy, we overanalyze, we doubt, we let the gloom linger, we beat ourselves up and we get angry at the world. Let it go. Forgive yourself and forgive others. Would you rather hold on to a smelly old sponge of bitterness or refresh your spirit with the cleansing waters of hopeful acceptance?

As a matter of fact, a warm bath sounds good right now.

Is Sorry Enough?

June 28, 2013

Have you ever heard someone say, “Well, sorry isn’t good enough,” or “Say sorry like you mean it?” There comes a time when the one seeking the apology (the presumed victim) may be unwilling or unready to truly accept it, due to deep hurt or perceived harm. Most of us struggle with letting go of our emotional baggage, redefining ourselves after trial and really moving on.

Why is that? Well, imagine your memories are a giant blank canvas, your feelings are its frame and your vulnerabilities are the paintbrush. At first, we come into the world open to experiences and learning, presented as a palette of colors. We innocently hand over the paintbrush without hesitation, seeking shapes, lines and emotions from our family and friends. Inevitably, the world presents us with someone who, possibly through their own past hurts or unintended ignorance, paints with a color that leaves a mark we don’t like to see . . . a swipe across the canvas that unsettles us. So, we paint over it and start anew.

These phases come and go, based on who we allow to have our paintbrush and how much freedom we give them with the palette. Then, the sudden and less controllable things happen: heartbreak, slander and disappointment. We paint over these too, praying for a fresh start; yet, the color sometimes seeps through and tints our present. Worst of all, abuses, physical ailments and grief may not even ask for the paintbrush—they may burn, distress or tear the canvas. We all feel the heat, the harm and the hurt. We carry them, sometimes in invisible ink or buried under layers of cloaking paint, that bubble back to visibility in the revealing light of life.

Sorry, by its very nature, is a tricky thing. However, I believe wholeheartedly that the better statement to seek and embrace is, “I forgive you.” Sorry keeps all the power with the person or thing you believe injured you. It is asking for permission from another for you to heal. While a necessary and appropriate gesture, sorry only works if you are willing to accept it.

Sorry by Tony Albert

For instance, I saw this piece by Tony Albert on display for an Indigenous Australia exhibition at the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA). Many of the artists featured had similar sentiments addressing the official apology for the tremendous wrongs done to their people, but unwilling to believe or truly stomach the “sorry.” Some, it was evident, were voicing their hurts in a vindictive and graphic manner. Others were simply waiting for real, sustainable change. It’s a tough road for all.

Here is the question: how long should a hurt, an oppression, a wrong or a weight live on? I’m serious. This is a provocative question, considering the racial, social, political and religious lines we have in the world. Is it really right to pass anger, prejudice and hate down to the next generation? These are learned beliefs not inherent ones. None of us can claim we want equal, fair or balanced treatment if we aren’t living those things with full love, forgiveness and openness.

Take this work, by Bindi Cole from GOMA as a hopeful and moving example.

Seventy Times Seven by Bindi Cole I Forgive You by Bindi Cole

It was the only piece I saw in the exhibit that was focused on the most powerfully liberating emotion: forgiveness. The video brought me to tears, seeing the apparent struggle to let go within each soul over repeating the simple phrase, “I forgive you.”

I LOVE this quote by Bindi Cole:

I had to go through a process of healing

and a huge part of that healing was around forgiveness . . .

As I forgave I was able to take my power back.

Imagine the paintbrushes you need to reclaim, think of the priceless forgiveness you can “give” yourself by restoring the canvas (like washing away old watercolors) and think of the liberation you can empower the next generation with by merely being an example of hope’s healing power over hate. I challenge you, myself and the world.