I think today is perfect for this entry. I think that this is not only timely but necessary for me. Also, the topic of forgiveness is an interesting one, to say the least.
I say this because of all that we carry on our shoulders. I say this because of the burdens in our heart and because of the weights of our soul that weigh us down and keep us from flying free.
Safe to say that I have held on to more than I should have.
Safe to say that I have my bouts that I have lost to. I have beaten myself internally and for what?
I have dissected and diagnosed.
However, in my search for sanity or personal improvement, I remained at an impasse. I kept myself stuck in the muck of unchangeable things because no matter how I tried to improve, I held myself back because I never knew how to let myself go.
I forgave others. Perhaps not always, but I certainly learned how to forgive others more than I learned to forgive myself.
But this had to change.
First, my forgiveness does not pardon what happened or say that what happened was right or wrong.
Instead, my forgiveness was a simple means to let go of the burdens of self so that I can heal and be rid of my reckless resentments or the wrongs that no longer deserved my attention.
To be better, I had to live better, which means I had to think better. Without the freedom of thinking forward, I would always be looking behind me, never to see the moment at hand or the upcoming horizon when it looks the best.
Safe to say there are different types of prisons. There are different forms of segregation and isolation and different places where solitary confinement is equally punishing, if not maddening.
Safe to say there are places like this that are enough to make someone lose their mind.
I have not seen places like others have. No, my experiences are limited to me.
So is my perception.
I’ve seen my share of unfair places. I’ve seen my share of uncomfortable places and yes, I can say that I have found myself in sad predicaments; while admittedly, I have fractured the law in my early years, I have paid for these mistakes and then some.
Yet, there is an isolation that comes in our minds which is perhaps not physically the same as a holding cell, or jail or prison; but at the same time, I can say that the toughest prison exists in the mind.
We know this all too well.
The toughest jails are in our heads.
The toughest wardens are us as well because we pardon others and punish ourselves.
So tell me, where’s the sanity in that?
The truth is we drive ourselves crazy.
Don’t we?
Who is it that overthinks?
Who is it that overcomplicates life?
Who is it that overcompensates?
Who lives with insecurity?
Who lives with blame?
Who lives with shame?
Who lives with guilt, fault and regret?
Who lives with the five fingers of rejective thinking?
But more, who crucifies us more than we do?
Us.
That’s who.
At the same time –
Who has the ability to truly pardon us?
Who has the ability to set ourselves free?
Who can allow us to grow?
Who can allow us to overcome?
Who can give us the right to improve, to adapt or surpass even our own limitations?
Us.
That’s who.
I can say there are times when I have lost my own mind. I can say this happened while punishing myself for things that were either out of my control or due to certain choices. I beat myself up over decisions that were made either hastily, selfishly or out of insecurity.
I punished myself for not thinking things through or acting too quickly or not thinking things through to the next or better level.
I’ve punished myself for not being “good enough,” or so I thought.
I say this because now that we are here in the early phases of this journal and now that we are talking about the details of our sanity; I am here to declare one specific detail that destroyed my sanity.
I am here to declare that details of what degraded me over and over and over again.
And the answer is me . . .
I used to run the tapes of things that I wished I could have said. I used to destroy my sanity by trying to relitigate the past and by trying to recreate something that was already gone.
But to me, I kept these things alive and well in my mind.
in the end, I drove myself crazy . . .
If we are looking to find sanity –
If we’re looking to improve –
If we want to be better –
then we have to understand the mechanics of our sanity.
I remember a time when I sat in a retreat with a group of people. I never met any of them before. We were all part of the same club. We were all looking to find better ways to restore ourselves to sanity; yet, there I was, still insane and still too afraid to let go of the things that made me crazy.
Most of all, I never knew how to let go of my past. I didn’t know how to forgive myself for the things I did.
I have faces and images and ideas from my past which, admittedly, are old memories that are distorted and are perhaps biased and influenced by the years of inventory that’s been packed behind them.
There was a kind man who ran this retreat.
We talked for a while, openly and in a group.
He could see what I was trying to say.
With all of his heart, this man looked at me with the kindest expression and said, “I don’t know what you did before. But whatever it is, you’re not out there doing it now.”
That was one of the kindest and most memorable things that I had ever heard, especially at that time.
It took me years to learn this fundamental fact: No one can be sane if they never learn how to forgive themselves.
No one can move on unless they allow themselves the right to be free from their past.
This was me.
Anything I have written to you is written because this is true. And, in the dispute or if there are any discrepancies, I will say that yes, this is all true to me.
These are my details and my truths, safely reported and humbly narrated by yours truly.
I had to learn more about this.
I had to understand that no one can be free if they keep themselves hostage in situations that can no longer be changed. I can’t keep myself back and expect to go forward. Nor can I expect to be happy while trying to change items that can neither be altered nor removed from the past.
Lastly, there is nothing more unalterable than time after its gone. You can’t get back a word after it’s said or a moment that goes behind us to pass into vapor. Aside from our memory, the past is only vapor and dust and tiny remnants of little reminders that tell us where we’ve been.
There is no need to go back anymore.
There’s no freedom in reliving what was and, certainly, there’s no relief in litigating our mistakes. Yet, we hold ourselves accountable – still.
We literally crucify ourselves for things that can no longer be changed. Even after we make amends or even if we apologize; even if we literally put ourselves through the ringer and spill blood, sweat and tears; there is no best possible potential if we do not forgive our own trespasses.
Today is a special day.
Today marks a day when I lost my Mother. She passed on this day, June 10, 2015.
Although there were regrets that I didn’t call more or that I didn’t do more and yes, there are things that I wish I had done differently. There are times like now when I am reminded that I am imperfect. I make mistakes. Emotions pick up and feelings take off.
I have flaws and defects that need to be addressed because, of all things, the one thing I am is human.
Mom knew this too.
I used to put myself through the shredder. I used to butcher myself with internal judgments and beat myself with a strong belief system that I was faulty.
But I’m not faulty. I’m human.
There’s a difference.
Years back, I was experiencing a bout with disbelief and shame.
I did not think that I would ever have what it takes to grow beyond a certain point. I believed that, at best, there would always be a ceiling to my growth; but more, I was convinced that the chains from my past would always hold me back. Because of this, I would never be able to outrun my crimes or my motions of inhumanity.
I swore that I was to serve a consecutive life sentence in one form or another. While physically free, I would always be a slave to my thinking.
And people like Mom . . . .
Mom always forgave me.
It was me who never understood how to forgive myself.
I used to write letters. I used to send them out into the universe with hopes that, somehow, my thoughts and sentiment would reach its destination. That somehow, I could be absolved from my past and forgiven.
However, those letters never came back to me.
Maybe I had the wrong address.
Maybe those letters should have gone to someone within;
as in me . . .
I have lived with my bouts of sanity for as long as I can remember.
However, sanity cannot be reached without the forgiveness of self which, no differently from the confession of sin, all I need is true sorrow for my sins to be absolved.
All I need to do is “mean it” and work to change on a daily basis.
In my case, am I sane yet?
Have I repaid my debts?
I can only answer this question like this –
I work on this. I work on this every day.
Each day I do something as an ongoing means of penance.
I do something to return what I have taken.
I give my time. I try to lend my patience.
I have come to the understanding that charity should be felt when given and that, in my best donations, I needed to feel them.
I needed to believe that I have done something to replace the unnecessary divots in this world. While there are times when my defects take over, and although there are days when I am not at my best, or I do something shortsighted, selfish or unworthy of me or untrue of my best sense of character – I do know that I am working on myself on a daily basis.
i know that I am working to restore what I can and to rebuild my sanity – because otherwise, I tend to go crazy and try to fix what can no longer be touched.
I offer this as a personal extension, deep from within my heart to you because I know that we all go through bouts in our mind.
Also, I know that an inward sense of forgiveness is difficult for so many of us.
So, for now –
I’ll close this here with hopes that this entry finds its way across the boundaries of life and the spirit form. And I’ll leave it at this –
I miss you Mom.
There’s a lot that’s happen since you left our side of the globe.
Your baby boy has made a few moves.
I’ve jumped over a few hurdles and through a few hoops.
I’ve done some things I’d love to tell you about.
So for now, I’ll just leave this here – and hope that you can hear me.
In Loving Memory of my Mom
Alice E. Kimmel
Tell me I’m a good person, Ma . . .
Coming from you . . .
That would heal a lot of wounds.
Oh, and tell Pop not to worry.
I’m doing well –
Tell him I learned to tell stories just like him.
Maybe I’m not as good as he was (yet)
But in my rebirth of sanity, I’m working on my trick
Every day –
One piece at a time
The Written Addiction 