So for six weeks or so, I’ve had a post open in edit mode, two-thirds completed, about letting go. About letting go of political arguments, about letting go of anger, about letting go of petty bullshit.
And it’s been sitting for six weeks because I haven’t been able to finish it. The last line I’d written was “and I was ashamed,” and during breaks at work, I’d pull up the tab, and I’d look at it, and I’d sigh, and feel bad, and think about how I’ve tried to implement all of these changes in my life and in my demeanor and mutter to myself, “you shithead, Purple, you suck.”
My friend Tom would say “That’s the black dog talking.” And he would be right. I’ve let the black dog into my head. I have a vast array of projects that I want to do, activities that I want to complete, goals that I have set, and I don’t feel like I’m making much progress. My black dog is a little yappy thing, and it yapps, “not done! not done! you suck! you suck!” over and over and over again.
There I was. Staring at the words “I was ashamed.” Hearing the yappy dog. And I said “heck with it,” and I selected all, and hit delete. Boom, gone.
Because letting go isn’t just about forgiving other people, It’s not just about letting anger go and letting pettiness go. It’s about letting self-criticism go. It’s about letting self-hate go. It’s about forgiving yourself.
So that’s what I’m working on, this holiday season. Progress on forgiving myself is the focus. Progress on projects is gravy. And in January, I’ll reset and start again.
And now I can hit publish.