That stuff we carry around. And we’re all carrying stuff around. Even though we don’t have to. Yet, we do. Because we always have. It becomes a part of the story we tell ourselves.
It’s not a great story.
It starts with regret. What we did do, or, more often, what we didn’t do.
And while the regret hurts, what really hurts is how we treat ourself because of it.
We could have made a different choice and we will ruthlessly never allow ourselves to forget it. We can be quite cruel towards others, but don’t we tend to save the cruelest stuff for ourself?
I’ve had my share of regrets. I could probably teach a weekend workshop on the subject, including how to never let yourself get over it, how to mercilessly never let yourself off the hook no matter how many years ago it may have been.
Forgiveness of others is often easier than forgiveness of self.
Forgiveness of self requires two people. The person you are now and the person you were then. The person I am now can see that the person I was then did the best that he could at that time. The person I am now, a bit older and a bit wiser, is able to look back with a compassionate understanding and acceptance of the person I was then.
The person that I am today would be better served if I stopped beating down the person I used to be.
Forgiveness of self is perhaps the greatest example of unconditional love.
We all deserve to be loved unconditionally.
Especially from ourself.