“I’m practicing keeping my word to myself,” I rehearsed in my mind.
I had to uphold a boundary recently that the other person didn’t want in place and did not understand. As I prepared for ongoing pushback, I tried out a bunch of responses, looking not for a magic key that would unlock understanding, not wanting to make excuses, but searching for the thing that felt the most true.
Why wouldn’t I budge on this?
What would that mean for me if I did? Would it cost me money? Time? Energy? Any or all of that, could be. But most of all, it would cost me something within myself.
At the root of it, moving this boundary would mean abandoning myself.
I’m practicing keeping my word to myself, I thought again, feeling the power of those words. Feeling the love in them. Feeling safe with myself because of them. Feeling the weight of their truth, which in turn made me feel lighter.
How many times in the past have I missed the opportunity to do that?
Countless times. Typically to protect myself. Sometimes for survival. But what it cost me has taken (is taking) so much time to earn back - decision by decision, boundary by boundary, promise by promise.
My word to myself is among the most valuable things I have.
After my marriage I had to build this self trust again from the start, the way my grandfather would stand over a patch of unruly dirt in his backyard after the relentless Pennsylvania snow had finally thawed. Then he would till the soil, and then plant the seeds. And then tend to them until before we knew it there were zucchini and tomatoes and cantelope and radishes and green peppers all over the kitchen counters, tangles of green growing more abundance outside than the lot of us could consume.
Before we knew it. It probably didn’t feel so sudden to him, out there day after day in jeans and dirty white tee, sweat in his mustache.
He was so proud of his garden.
I am proud of my healing.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds in the same way that time didn’t grow those tomatoes.
Time contributes. The gardener grows.
The self heals.
I started with little agreements: I will do one nice thing for myself, by myself, this week. Or, I’ll go outside today, even if I don’t feel like it. And I showed up for myself the ways I’d agreed to until I remembered how. Until I believed that I would. And I kept doing it.
There are a lot of parts to healing. If you asked me the most important piece of mine, it wasn’t healing the pain from betrayal and divorce, the wounds ripped open by another person. It wasn’t understanding how or why this happened. It has nothing to do with forgiveness. And it’s nowhere near as simple as “moving on.”
It is healing my relationship with myself. It’s remembering, and then knowing, that I can count on myself so that when life is hard, I’ll always, always know who I can turn to:
Me.
I will not let me down.
REFLECTION PROMPT
What small promises can you make and keep for yourself this week?
Spend some time meditating and/or journaling on this! *And do it!*
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Firebuilder: A Day Long Workshop // April 20th in Portland, OR
Writing For The Self: A Gathering Series // New dates in Portland, OR
Camp Flourish Retreat // Fall 2024
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JUST OVER HERE PODCAST
13: Just Over Here Meditating
on meditation and its purpose in our lives, exploring the importance of our connection to our true selves, and answering your questions
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12: Just Over Here Making a Home with Michel Van Devender
on how we make a house into a home, the ways that home design can deeply reflect and even shape the ways we live, and what it really means to feel "at home”
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11: Just Over Here Firebuilding with Mollie Birney
a conversation on "firebuilding" - the ways in which we deeply and actively care for ourselves to create a healthy, vibrant life.
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