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Glennon Doyle, who’s in recovery for an eating disorder, shares her lessons from therapy with us on her podcast. She said something the other day that really hit me hard.
“Our ‘Higher Power’ is what we spend most of our time thinking about.”
I was out in the bitter cold on a run as I listened to the episode, and the moment she said that, I could probably trace the exact spot where my feet landed on the asphalt. I immediately inventoried where my thoughts generally go day to day, and I started to feel sick.
Because at present, my higher power is resentment. My higher power is also rage.
And I wish it wasn’t.
But these intrusive thoughts from something that happened a couple of years ago have seeped into every cell of my body, like the fungus-infected zombies in The Last of Us, tendrils spreading from cell to cell, slowing decomposing every inch of me.
Resentment at people who I feel have wronged me. Frustration and anger at myself for not being able to let go and move on. Fear that my highly-sensitive nature will leave me undone over and over again. And rage over it all.
By all accounts, I have a serendipitous life right now. I have two kids who are the delights of my life. I have a husband who leans into the hard right beside me. I have a book coming out this fall. Seriously, life is beautiful. I remember when everything I have now was only a wistful prayer.
Yet my higher power is resentment.
How can this be?
More importantly, how do I move on? I’ve read books about it. I’ve listen to TED talks. I’ve gone to therapy over it. I’ve done hypnosis and endless journaling. I hear over and over again that the key is forgiveness.
And I’ve tried. Lord help me I have tried. I have “forgiven” in my head 1,000 times. I have written letters that I’ve never pressed send on. I have looked at everything from other people’s perspectives to try to understand. I have visualized walking in the shoes of people who I’d villainized. I prayed about it.
In recovery, we talk about the power of forgiveness. I have forgiven people in my past and felt the freedom of letting that go. I have also sought forgiveness for my part in wronging others. While I found catharsis through the process, I also realized that unless my heart is in a place where I am truly ready to forgive, a forgiveness exercise can also feel like empty words.
So how do we process forgiveness when our hearts and minds aren’t ready yet? Is that even possible? Or is forgiveness similar to grief in that it’s on its own timeline? You can’t force it. And there’s no laminated sequence of events. It just happens when you’re ready. No sooner, no later.
Maybe it’s my own pressure to move forward that makes resentment my higher power. Maybe, just maybe, by sitting with and accepting the resentment and rage that comes with being deeply hurt by someone, only then can I get closer to the freedom that comes with true forgiveness. Maybe forgiveness isn’t my current path forward and I can give myself permission to admit I’m not ready yet.
So much of the weight that rests on my shoulders is resentment and rage directed towards myself. Feeling like I am weak for not moving on. Feeling like I am less for being so hurt and angry. I hear my mother’s voice say “You’re too sensitive” echo inside and I’m immediately transported to my lonely childhood bedroom, sitting on futon, willing my sensitivities away with a kitchen knife along of forearm.
Do you know another way I used to repress emotions? Yes, through my drinking. You’d think I would learn by now. But how are we supposed to learn how to process emotions when we grow up learning to avoid them, feel them less, or numb them out?
How many of us grew up in homes where feelings weren’t discussed; certainly not negative ones? Where we watched loved ones drink to cope, or eat to control. Where we were told we were too much of something: too sensitive, too loud, too fat.
How many of us grew up in homes where feelings weren’t discussed; certainly not negative ones? Where we watched loved ones drink to cope, or eat to control. Where we were told we were too much of something: too sensitive, too loud, too fat.
I hosted a meeting this morning for moms in recovery and listened to several women talk about the need to blur the edges of life’s razor sharpness, because we never learned otherwise. We never learned emotional regulation, processing feelings, or even mindful breathing. I mean, can you believe it? Many of us never learned how to breathe properly (using the diaphragm, not the chest) and are only now learning about this game-changing emotional regulation technique in our 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s.
And maybe this is why I’m stuck, sitting in the waiting room between resentment and “let it go.” Trying to push through negative emotions, find forgiveness and move forward. Believing it’s bad or wrong to linger on resentment, and to never sit on rage.
Good girls don’t get angry.
Focus on the positive.
Write a gratitude list, for God’s sake.
Or maybe that’s the faulty messaging. Maybe that’s what causes so many to drink or drug. Because negative emotions aren’t bad. They don’t make us bad people. They’re part of the human spectrum of feelings. They are valid. They deserve to be seen, explored and recognized. Resentment, jealousy, anger and sadness are normal feelings that only seem to cause long term problems when we live in that space, or deny it completely.
What if I’m looking at this all wrong? Negative emotions ebb and flow in us like waves, and perhaps some feelings may never go away completely. Maybe the real forgiveness I need to work on is forgiving myself for still feeling this way. For giving myself permission to sit down with them, look them in the eye, and listen to what they have to say without shame or condemnation.
I’m a highly sensitive person. It can feel like a ball and chain tightly locked around my ankle many days, but it’s also what makes me a great writer, special needs mom, and friend. I accept the cons that accompany the sublime perks of seeing and feeling the life-affirming moments and magic. And I forgive myself for the times, like these, where I feel stuck in big feelings quicksand. Because while I think and hope it won’t always feel this way, I know with certainty I will always feel big.
My book, It’s Not About the Wine: The Loaded Truth Behind Mommy Wine Culture, is now available for pre-order here.
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