I woke up this morning with an overwhelming desire to make things right. I’ve been struggling with sadness, confusion, feelings of abandonment and resentment over a recent loss, and I’ve been feeling like a child whose mother just gave away her brand new doll. Her only doll. To another kid. Who she doesn’t even like! It’s felt crippling at times. Left me exhausted, consumed with fear.

And this has all been going on in the midst of me launching The Adventuresome Life. Thus my life and company motto, “It’s ALL an Adventure!”

It took some effort, but I have quickly come to realize that more than I want the illusion of being right, more than I want to play the victim role, and even more than I want to protect myself, I just want to be able to let go of what I think it is all supposed to look like. Experience release, offer peace.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had these feelings or gone through something like this. And it probably won’t be the last, if I’m being completely honest. I have held grudges. Sometimes for many years. And this past week I felt another one building.

But I just can’t allow that to happen. You see, all these so-called grudges are towards people who have mattered to me very much. And still matter to me. They either were or are a very important to me. But I got hurt. And it hurt because they matter to me. But being angry, and eliminating people from my life, hasn’t made it hurt any less.

I’ve come to realize that when we feel like someone has hurt us, especially when that person is someone we have deemed very important, sometimes we attempt to HURT THEM BACK in order to try and feel better or to protect ourselves.  We often do this without any awareness of what we are actually doing. But it doesn’t work! The hurt just builds and festers, and it can become debilitating, blocking the flow of joy, health and goodness in our lives.

When I was 15 years old, my mother and father divorced. It was never explained to me, or even talked about, but my understanding was that my dad had had an affair. The daughter of the woman he was having an affair with found it necessary to approach me at my school locker one day. She informed me that my dad was spending time at her house and that “he loved her more than he loved me.” I know, right! Straight out of some deluded high school mean girls movie!

It would take 15+ years for me to forgive my father. I had been daddy’s little girl. But after my parent’s divorce, my dad and I had a strained and distant relationship. He was in my life, but kind of in a “going through the motions,” “standing in the background” kind of way.

I would eventually get married myself, have a child of my own, and experience the pain and heartache of a marriage unraveling. It wasn’t until after my own divorce that I realized my dad had done the best he could, given his upbringing, resources and pain triggers. He had been seeking to help himself feel better. And he hurt people he loved in order to try and ease his own pain.

It took me years, but one day, over lunch at a grocery store deli, I had a moment of clarity that I can only call grace. I looked my father in the eye and I said, “I forgive you, Dad. And the truth is, I never had anything to forgive you for in the first place.” He immediately started to cry. And at that moment, I could physically and energetically feel the release in both of our hearts.

Five years later, my dad died unexpectedly, at the age of 59, after falling into a coma during a nap in the middle of the day. I’ve felt so much peace and gratitude in knowing that I took the chance to speak those words. I think it was one of the greatest gifts I ever gave my father, and I know it has been one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever given myself.

Now I have the opportunity to give myself and others that same gift in my current situation.  (Thanks for reminding me Dad!)

Do you have anyone you need to forgive? Make a list of people or things that when you think about them, you stop breathing, your body clenches up, or you start to cry. You may think it’s too painful, but really try. Forgive them. In your heart. In a letter, even if you never send it. Or call them up. Whatever feels doable and authentic to you. And if you can’t do any of those things, you can still forgive. You can forgive yourself for not being able to forgive them. Just yet.

If you have something you need to forgive, a past forgiveness story of your own, or a comment on this blog share below.