My mom said tonight, "I hope you get to the point where one day you will love coming home." I'm not a liar and I strive to be as authentic and true to me as I know to be, so I said nothing. But inside I was thinking, yea, that will never happen and seriously, before I could finish the thought in my heart, she said, "You know people change." And again, I was quiet. She was right. What could I really say to that?
I walked out of her room and thought about us, thought about that moment. Why is it that we hold the people closest to us hostage to their worse version of themselves? Why do we allow the pain of our past to be the base through which we judge every present moment? How would I even know if she's changed if all I remember is who she used to be (or more accurately, who I perceived her to be)?
I sat quietly for a while, beating myself up and then I heard the sweetest dose of encouragement from a still small voice. She said, "Girl, buck up a bit. You've made some progress. Life doesn't change overnight. It's an incremental process. Be kind to you. You're here. You're showing up. You're opening up. Start there."
In that moment, I was reminded that the intellect of pain is a bad place to process life from and guilt is like a vortex. It will spiral you down into a negative space. Thankfully, there are other options that staying in my head or succumbing to guilt. I can own the parts of my mom's words that were true and the parts of me that are true and begin with truth.
Truth is light filled and leads to reconciliation. Embracing truth deepens our courage. No, I'm not quite at the place where I'm over the heels in love with the idea of coming "home", but I'm courageous enough to show up.
There's a place of convergence in the pain of your past and your now. A place that is full of invitation to open up to the tender moments and embrace truth with courage. Buck up a bit. You got this.
