If there were an award to be handed out in the department of over thinking, I believe I could not only get that medal but trophies for subsequent consecutive levels of how I arrive at an utter chaotic, final conclusion of an overly analyzed prognosis of self being. I’m not sure if contemplative neurosis is married to all writers but if I were to look at it that way, well…then congratulations to myself. I’m officially Mrs. Overthinker. Yuck. Where’s my bling? The thing is, I don’t know how to stop sometimes and I’ve learned that it’s rescued me from a lot of shady situations and people, so there’s something to be said for gut instinct combined with a fastidious analysis of seemingly dire situations. I also find that this process, however annoying it is to everyone around, allows me to internalize and forgive.
Forgiveness. Eleven loaded letters. A consignment of memories unwanted and painstakingly buried under an antique rug that’s unraveling rapidly at the threads, dispersing discomfort like particles of dust. That’s pretty much how I summarize pain using a really expensive rug as a metaphor. A lot of us aren’t really good at sitting in pain, figuring out where the cracks of light are in all that darkness. Where was Leonard Cohen when I needed him?
In order to forgive someone that’s truly hurt you I believe that you have to sit in that pain objectively and not wallow. I can be the queen of wallowing. Thankfully after my pity party I got to a point where I asked myself if I wanted to keep feeling angry and bitter and where could I go from there? How much am I punishing someone internally for hurting me when I’m the only one suffering? Those words echoed in me a few years ago and then I slowly walked towards forgiveness. People still ask me how I could have forgiven someone that had hurt me to the core. I think I started to look at the hurt differently or my perception of it. I asked where it came from and did that person have the cognizance to know what they were doing? Here’s what I’ve come to somewhat understand: people very subconsciously carry a bagful of daggers not even knowing when they’ve thrown them. When you forgive, you realize that the people hurting you aren’t always aware that they’re carrying the tools let alone know that they’re using them.
There is no easy cure for hurt and the pain that someone or something has caused. I like to think that we have a dagger or two still stuck in us. As much as I have tried to feign happiness or submerge and marinate in distractions, the throbbing of sadness was still at the undercarriage of my being and until I learned to let it pulsate and convulse through my body and mind, there was no escaping myself. Over thinking helps tremendously with this because eventually I ran out of every scenario of what could happen, why it happened and what will happen. Sometimes our flaws can be our biggest assets when it comes to healing ourselves. What’s even more troublesome during this process is that a lot of people walk around only to see their own situation, their own little plate of hurt that they’re offering as a story. Sorry not sorry but I have stepped back from negativity and what doesn’t serve me. Yes, incase you’re wondering, doing this causes me tremendous anguish. It also meant that in this process, I was labeled as the person that caused the pain. Everyone sadly thinks that they’re the casualty and the only thing I could do was accept what I was feeling, reminding myself that I could not be responsible for anyone’s anger towards me because I had taken a brave initiative to remove myself from a circumstance where I was enveloped in discomfort and negativity.
Writers aren’t being mendacious when they say things such as: there is beauty in pain. If you surpass the small idiosyncrasies that make up the giant tapestry of agony and find depth, pain gives you a skill set. It really does. You’ll know this if you let things flow and accept all the hurt barreling towards you. It really does come stampeding like ten thousand daggers. Pain can lift you to the zenith of singular perception; it’s divine. Not only did I become strong but I found humor to be my savior, I didn’t hide behind it and instead used it to bond with others, leaving good energy. What’s better than really laughing from the pit of your stomach? Honestly, I can’t think of anything else that can immediately change the energy in a room.
We’re never going to get it right. What’s it you ask? Life I suppose. None of us came with a manual although some of the people I’ve met ought to have. It’s our mistakes, our rawness and blanket of uncertainty that set the precedent for our outcomes and actions. Some of those actions will become our grievances, some of them will result in joy and inveitably many will demand that we ask for forgiveness. Don’t even try to find balance in that, flow with it. Once you do that your lens of perception becomes so clear and the ability to forgive will be much easier because no one gets a free pass to have utter perfection in life, especially when perfection is so subjective. So, we make mistakes and hopefully we can try to understand the ones that others make, at the very least, as much as we don’t like it. The only thing we ever really have any autonomy over is to accept that pain is engaged to the human condition. Sometimes we’re the ones causing it, other times we’re on the receiving end and to forgive others means that we’re also in turn, forgiving ourselves.