I forgive myself.

(Reposted from my newsletter archives.)

And I can do so much better.

Did you ever see the 1976 movie called Sybil that starred Sally Field as a young woman with sixteen personalities that she developed in response to the severe trauma she endured as a child? Yeah...2020 is Sybil with White Supremacy as the abusive parent, all cast in the avocado green kitchen that is known as the U. S. of A. Are you with me?

I know you've probably experienced at least sixteen different emotions since January, like me, and we're only halfway through. I turned another year older a few weeks ago and am approaching six years of sobriety, the significance of both of these milestones impresses on me an abundance of gratitude. If I had to pick one emotion that shines the brightest, it would be gratitude to be alive in this fervent time.

I keep thinking about something that someone very wise said to me when I was around six months sober. She said, "Getting sober is an exercise in learning to love yourself." At the time, I had so many questions, so few answers but my initial response to this was a posture of defensiveness: "Well, that can't be. I love myself!" 

But the longer I've walked this path, the deeper I am in my understanding that that was absolutely not true. That defensiveness was my ego because it knew that if I admitted that I did not love myself, all of me, then every single story that I'd held onto about myself would entirely unravel. 

Here is the biggest story that unraveled when I was willing to accept her statement as true: "I'm a good person. I just made some bad choices."

While it is true that I am a good person and I have made some bad choices, that is only part of the story. It's also true that I am a bad person. I'm stubborn and judgmental. I'm a scrappy self-preservationist that is also a scattered procrastinator. I care deeply but I'm also selfish, and that often overrides my compassion. I have shame over my birth stories, my ancestry. I apologize for my soft belly but am enamored with my divine creativity. I made space for alcohol but not for my family, over and over and over again. I am a monster and I am a saint. But to love myself, wholly, is to love all of that, all of me. And if I arrive at the place where I love my whole self, then I will have arrived at the place where I will no longer harm myself. 

Until I love myself completely, I cannot love others COMPLETELY. Until I'm not harming myself, I cannot expect that I won't bring harm to others. It is my responsibility to love myself entirely and if I do this work to heal, which includes ATONEMENT for the harm I've caused, it means I don't pass the unhealed parts of myself on...to my children, to my community, to those that I mentor. I don't pass on self-hatred, I don't pass on guilt, I don't pass on bias, I don't pass on racism. 

This is what I mean when I say that anti-racist work IS recovery work.

I've been quiet the last couple of weeks because I've been really sitting with all of the darkest parts of me, gingerly bringing them out into the light. I can't love what I'm not willing to look at. To embody all of the emotions that 2020 is bringing up, I've been prolific with my hands.

I know that I need community more than ever. There are so many profound leaders right now, and I'm happy to listen, learn and commune. To think that generations after us may really, truly love and accept themselves and Do No Harm, I only hope that my Spirit will be rejoicing in that chorus.

xoxo