Recently, I spent the morning revisiting old friends made through a retreat experience I had over eight years ago. We surely didn't look eight years older, but throughout the morning, it was obvious so much had changed. One thing that we did was to share with the group what had changed in our lives as a result of the retreat. I listened to the stories. Many of the women's experiences were "out of their comfort zone" forays into the limitless possibilities we all dream about, but sometimes don't realize. It was encouraging to hear from introverts who had led organizations and from women who saw themselves as "ordinary homemakers" influencing major community organizations because they had become board members. My change was at first very quiet, a tremor - almost unnoticed.
I have always been in leadership positions in my adult life. I probably would have done well in corporate America. I'm hard driven, a perfectionist with a penchant for "telling it like it is". I am no wall flower, so my change wasn't noticeable to anyone - at first. My driven nature was a cover - a hide-out - for unimaginable hurt.
It was at this retreat that I began to look at that hurt. Sometimes, family - the ones that are supposed to love you the most - heap the greatest burden of hurt on you. I have finally realized after nearly five decades that there are no Norman Rockwell families out there, and I now realize that the patterns of communication in mine were neither normal, nor unusual. As I began to challenge the status quo, the tremor turned into an earthquake. In demanding that I not fulfill the expected role handed to me within the family, I fueled great upset.
Even when our lives are unhappy, when we adopt unhealthy roles and expectations, inexplicably, we fight to remain in those unhealthy patterns. I was ready to expose the patterns and to break free of those roles. It upset a lot of people, and it eventually caused a terrible break.
It has been a journey these eight years. Uncovering anger (I'm often called "the angry one"), recognizing that I'd been trying to make my idea of family fit a stereotype that doesn't really exist, and learning to accept and forgive has been a tumultuous rollercoaster - but freeing.
I shared with my friends that my eight years had taught me something about love and forgiveness. . . that I thought I could write a book about it. Maybe this is the first chapter.
It's just my opinion . . . but there's forgiveness where there is love. It starts inside you. . . forgiving and loving yourself first and foremost. From there, no telling what freedoms lay ahead for you.
Wow....I can see that you're not going to be a shrinking violet, sissy. You know that I'll be interested to see how you talk about issues that have affected all of us.
Enjoy your blog, sis. I'm sure that we all will.
OK, pugilists...put on your gloves and come out swinging. We can take it!
Nan--You cannot, repeat, cannot be THE angry one. I've a couple of brothers who answer to that description. It's been a huge mystery to me (since about 1955) what it is that has made them so angry. Perhaps reading your blog will give me some insight into what their thought processes might be.
Whether reading your blog helps me or not, I hope that you enjoy the experience. Welcome!
Hi Nan. With so much enthusiasm, I can tell you will magically turn the mundane into interesting stuff. Welcome to our blogging world. May it bring you many friends and much enjoyment.
Welcome to the blogosphere Nan!