Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Bad for the Soul

"As smoking is to the lungs, so is resentment to the soul; even one puff is bad for you."

Elizabeth Gilbert

The reason I am starting this blog is to rid my soul of resentment. I’ve been carrying it around for years and years. I want to live a full life. I want to LIVE LIFE...not just survive it. I feel like I’ve been surviving for too long and I’m ready and eager to move forward. Why look back then? Why? Because for too long I’ve ignored the purple elephant at the kitchen table. It’s been following me around for about 7 years now. Today, I will turn and face it. I will MEET it, understand it and one day...set it free.

First, we need to name it. IT. Is male or female? Actually, I don’t know. *Listens to gut* Gut says it’s a female. Ok. Good. Now we know It is a She.

Second, SHE needs a name. Hmm... Well, I’m a fairly deep and insightful woman and I like to have meanings behind significant parts of my life. I think I’ll wait to name her. For today, I’m happy to know it’s a SHE. I think I’ll give her a nick name. How about Princess Purple...because she DOES think she’s a princess.

Third. Whoa. Am I done already. I am typing quickly and feel like I could go for a run. I feel like the tears I had 10 minutes ago are gone forever. My typing is crisp and quick and I’m sitting up straight and tall. Could finding healing and letting go of my soul’s resentment be THIS EASY?? Cool! :)

No, I’m afraid not. I know the resentment in my soul is far deeper than knowing the elephant is a she and giving her a nick name.

Princess Purple has been in my life for as long as I remember. Nobody wanted to admit she was there. Growing up in a bi-polar, borderline home wouldn’t have been too bad...it wouldn’t have been too bad at all. IF someone would have just ADMITTED what was going on. I don’t care that my mom is bi-polar. I really don’t. We ALL have issues we need to deal with. My resentment lies here: I, as a little girl and as an adult, was blamed for the mess Princess Purple made. IT was always MY fault and when I tried to speak the Truth I was punished. I learned to stay quiet. I learned to hide in corners of my closet till the episodes passed. I learned that it was always my fault. I wish one time...just one time someone would have come to me and told me, “It’s not your fault”.

Tears now. Large, warm tears that fall when I blink.

Does anybody know this feeling??



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