This was originally posted in February 2016…now moved to my new website…Enjoy!

I listened to a free call from Geneen Roth this week on the subject of forgiveness. I absolutely love her and if you’ve never read any of her books, you need to. She, like many of us has struggled with food issues and has some really good insight about why we overeat. She also offers advice in the way of a simple strategy for overcoming it that has nothing to do with diets I, cutting back, or taking medication to lose weight.  Her philosophy gets down to the core reasons of why we overeat, which is filling a void or feeding our emotions. This is why I love her so much. She makes me feel like I can learn to love myself and accept myself without judgement.  She makes me want to be kind and gentle to myself. There seems to be some message I just didn’t get in childhood about loving myself. You know, the one that says “you are worthy of love just by being born?”  I never got that. So I struggle and am still working at it. It is a process.

The call, as always, was great!. It made me think about how I handle forgiveness, not necessarily of other people because that’s far too easy. I can forgive others, but I beat myself up for being human and for doing silly things myself. Then I keep beating myself up over and over again.  It’s like running over someone with a bus, backing up, then running over them again except that you are the one in the driver’s seat and also the one under the bus.

I was reminded of an incident that happened about fifty years ago (yes, 50) that I just can’t get past. It haunts me and rattles around in my head from time to time.  I have found that I don’t know how to process things if I don’t have closure and I never got closure on this. Perhaps the adults in the situation didn’t know how to handle it well, or maybe it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I have never forgotten it though, nor have I ever forgiven myself.

Here’s the story:

Once upon a time, there was a dark haired, hazel-eyed, very shy little girl of about age seven.  She lived on a farm with her parents and a lot of her brothers and sisters.  She was the youngest of all of them.  Some of her older brothers and sisters had moved away from home and, once in a while, would invite her to come over and stay for a few days or a week during the summer.  Although she was very shy, she liked going to visit because she loved her family very much and missed them all.  One summer she was visiting her oldest brother and sister-in-law.  They lived in the city where there was so much more to do than there was at the farm.  At least, more fun things.  Her brother already had three children who were very close  to her age so she liked to play with them. They played at the park, in their backyard, played games in the basement, or if there was nothing else to do, they went across the street to the neighbor’s house to play.  Their neighbor was about her age, had dolls and a playhouse and it was so much fun! 

One day, her sister-in-law told her about the popsicle man that comes around the streets to sell popsicles.  “You can hear him down the street, just watch and listen,” she said.  Sure enough, the tinkling sound of the truck was getting closer and closer.  She was fascinated by it all.  She had never seen anything like that living at the farm so she was so excited to try it!  She was given some money and took the three kids with her to buy popsicles.  The man saw them coming so he stopped the truck.  They went to the window and she asked the man for four popsicles then gave him the money she had in her hand.  She was a little nervous doing something new like this all by herself.  The man told her she didn’t have enough money for four popsicles, just three. She was very disappointed, but asked the three kids what flavors they wanted.  The oldest one asked for Root Beer, which was her favorite.  She started to hand the popsicles out, still disappointed that she wouldn’t get one.  Then she had a really bright idea!  Maybe she could split one with one of the kids!  She gave the two smaller kids theirs then told the oldest one they were going to need to share.  She broke the Root Beer flavored one in half thinking the sharing idea was brilliant.  Apparently she was the only one that thought so because he started to howl!  Then, as she ate her half she felt horrible and guilty for making him cry.  She kept eating but it didn’t taste as good as she thought it would. He cried all the way back to the house.  When they got back her sister-in-law asked what happened and he told her he didn’t get the whole popsicle.  She asked the girl “Didn’t I give you enough money?”  The little girl just responded with her head shaking side to side.  “No, there wasn’t enough.”  All she knew was that she had made her nephew cry and she felt horrible, guilty and selfish. 

I honestly have been trying to understand why I can’t let this go.  I was only a child, but I knew that I had hurt someone and made them cry and it hurt me very deeply.  I also know that I was taught not to be selfish.  Deep inside of me is a very clear message that everyone else’s needs matter more than mine, so when I hurt others I don’t handle it well.  I have tried for years to laugh things off, but sometimes things just aren’t funny and when you do things that hurt others, you need to apologize and make amends.  I just don’t know how to very well because that kind of behavior was never modeled for me at a young age.  It has been a struggle.  I seem to have this disconnect between being truly human and this utopian world in my head that says life is peaceful, everyone is happy, no one ever gets hurt and everybody plays nice.  It is true that everyone does the best that they can, with the knowledge that they have, and also when we know better, we do better.  I never make that allowance for myself, though.  I am hard on myself and the voices in my head are even harder.

So, where do I go from here?  Take a day at a time, do my best and learn to forgive myself.  Perhaps it would be good to have a conversation with my nephew and say “I’m sorry I made you cry.”  Or “I’m sorry I ate half of your popsicle.” Or even, “Let me know next time you are going to be in town and I’ll take you to Dairy Queen.  My treat!”  Then say to myself “It’s done, you did your best, let it go.”

I hope you enjoy my musings and share them with others.  I know my writing can be a little raw at times, but it is very therapeutic for me to write it out.  My wish is that it may inspire and help you to know you are not alone.  We all struggle with being human at times.  Peace, love, and joy.

Thank you for reading!