When I was 16 I ran away from home. I was gone for 6 weeks until I allowed someone to call my father, the one who taught me wrong was the worst and if I didn’t do it right the first time, something was wrong with me. I had a psychotic episode/spiritual awakening during that time. My life has been permanently shaped from that experience. The Big Mistake. It made my life very hard and over time gave me real access to my own heart and desires. I think about it everyday at some point either lamenting the fact that I did that or being so grateful that me at 16 saved her own life.
As much as I year for butterflies, my life is often lived as the cocoon’s goo, and I wouldn’t have it any other way or at least I’ve come a lot closer to accepting it.
I'd never heard anyone express the concept that an afterlife that's perfect (where no one ever makes mistakes) would not allow for learning or growing. Powerful idea.
I was incredibly harsh with my kids when they were elementary school age. Overwhelmed and suffering, I screamed at them, pushed them around, forgot they were little. In the forty years that has passed, all the work I’ve done and the life that has beat me up to a smooth, green stone, like sea glass, I am able to be genuinely compassionate toward the grandmother yanking her 5-year-old grandson to her car. He misbehaved in the store and now he’s gonna get it. He has no shoes. It’s summer. I go up to her and interrupt the rage. I say “ma’am. Look at me.” I wait until she does. “I get it.” I make eye contact and show her that I’ve been there. Then I say “just know that you’re not alone. Slow down. Take a breath. I’m Tina. What’s your name?” And we start to converse. And the storm passes without eating up the town.
My biggest mistake was believing it was a sign of strength to be numb. At a point in my life I fully believed my friends who were less expressive or less sensitive were stronger than me because I was "sensitive and weak."
When I started to embrace my softness, my sensitivity, my emotions- when I really started to let myself feel and realized the strength it gave me, that was when I grew into myself more than ever before.
"But I'M the grayest and the blobby-est of all the gray blobs!" This line from an episode of Fairly Oddparents where Timmy wished everyone was the same (only changing the people's OUTSIDES, not their insides) lives in my head perpetually. Some people will still be jerks even if we all look the same on the outside.
I've made many mistakes, especially as a kid. A lot of times afterwards I was swallowed by guilt and cried about it bc I knew it was wrong but still did it. Like when I lied saying my carpool number was called so I could visit my former teacher who was visiting with her sons. Yes, lying is wrong, yes I got and served lunch detention. But I don't regret that visit with an old fave, sorry.
The thing about mistakes though, is who said we made them? Us? Or someone else? I did a lot of time worrying about breaking rules that didn't exist outside of certain bubbles, some which I made myself (hi anxiety!). But once I learned it's okay, people aren't always 100% right and sometimes authority can be wrong, I made a lot of what OTHERS would consider mistakes, but what I consider freedom. And I've still got all the fingers and toes I started with and *looks around* as of 2:30 I haven't been smited...yet. I'm not perfect, at all. I've made mistakes, but that's how we grow and learn, like you said.
Growing fucking HURTS. Idk how long it's been or if you remember puberty, but I remember waking up in the middle of the night bc my charley horses were horrible! Fighting with your best friend of 10 years as a 15 year old hurts too, it's part of life. I do regret hurting feelings and saying things I can't take back. But it's in growing, getting THROUGH that pain and muck and crying watching revenge movies, that we really heal, we really learn. Sometimes the only way to really learn a lesson IS the hard way, the only way out is through.
idk if I rambled incessantly or there's anything y'all glean from that. Lmk.
I once was too busy/worried about other things to help a friend when she needed it, and there were terrible consequences of me not helping her. All she had asked for was my advice. I had thought I didn't matter or didn't make a difference, and I found out too late that I did. So now I take it very seriously when my friends ask me for help. And I am there.
This poem is fantastic to me. I agree that the idea that any of us on this planet are or should be perfect is a grave error. This would mean an end of learning, philosophy, art, science etc.. which makes no sense at all. The making mistakes and learning from them that you are talking about is the only truth. I don't want to become a Stepford wife.
Last year I adopted a dog from a shelter because I need another emotional support dog. I loved that dog instantly, even though it usually takes me months to really fall in love with a new animal. My mistake was listening to other voices about needing to get a dog that was more perfect, had less baggage, and wasn't as reactive to cats. I returned that wonderful dog after just three days of owning him. I regret that choice every day. I know now that what I needed to do was listen to my own heart and accept that beautiful creature for who he was, knowing he was just beginning a life of learning from his mistakes and I know we could have figured it out together. My finances and health prevented me from trying again with another dog, but also what prevented me was being torn between my own heart's values of adopting shelter dogs, and the service dog community insisting on getting dogs that are messed up by life already. I learned from this mistake that what matters most in my life is listening to my heart and doing everything I can to provide for it, even when it seems like other people don't agree.
So many things, big and small, that I've done wrong, and some have taken all my 65 years to even know they were mistakes to learn from instead of things to bury deep under the earth. Not setting boundaries in a relationship was a giant one, going against my own true north until I just couldn't anymore. Not understanding that most people really are doing the best they can in a given moment, so that I can understand that I'm doing the best ** I ** can do at the moment. This is a truly memorable poem, and I want to frame it. xo
One way I have grown into a compassionate person from my mistakes was to fully admit the truth of my mistake. I tend to blame others for mistakes that I made. If I would have just slowed down, stopped, asked questions, spoke aloud my needs, admit my mistakes than I could have compassionate, real relationships where we are not talking behind each other’s backs.
I tried to live without the greater part, hid her away, exiled her in all encompassing gravity so great it turned her dark, invisible in my perception; her effect size was too great however, caused a system of self collapse after the light faltered and failed from his source. He believed in the perfect heaven, the all consuming fire which burns all dross. He pretended she didn't twist him round her, as he sunk toward the horizon. I am a binary-non binary system; my identifiers are imperfections. I am still straight laced as a Victorian corset, but I can't help bursting out all over.
Thank you for eliciting introspection with everything you write or utter. In response to your thought-provoking question, above:
I have become more compassionate toward people who have berated or shown disdain or disinterest in my accomplishments because I learned (from a long break in contact with my critical mother) that I have often misinterpreted scorn from others as sheer meanness, directed at me to wound me, and born of their feeling of superiority, when, in fact, the source of their hurtful comments was really their bitterness and sense of inferiority, redirected at me—AKA jealousy. This revelation ironically uplifted my self-worth even as it challenged me to prove my worth further by showing compassion for those whose only way to acknowledge my worth was through their envy manifested as disdain. I now feel compelled to show them that they, too, have worth, and I can do that by not reacting to their seemingly mean-spirited comments with defensiveness or outrage, but rather, with a quietly compassionate comment like “I hear you.” No one gets hurt by such words, gently uttered.
"the lie that holy and perfect are the same thing" this resonated deep within me.
I'm reading a book called The Power of Discord and one of the central theses is that what matters is not the presence of mismatch or conflict, but the absence of repair. Fucking up is inevitable but we can choose whether or not we address the failure and repair the harm. I understand why people opt out. It's uncomfortable. And it's beautiful. I owe the best parts of myself to the times I've fucked up and showed up to repair.
When I was 16 I ran away from home. I was gone for 6 weeks until I allowed someone to call my father, the one who taught me wrong was the worst and if I didn’t do it right the first time, something was wrong with me. I had a psychotic episode/spiritual awakening during that time. My life has been permanently shaped from that experience. The Big Mistake. It made my life very hard and over time gave me real access to my own heart and desires. I think about it everyday at some point either lamenting the fact that I did that or being so grateful that me at 16 saved her own life.
As much as I year for butterflies, my life is often lived as the cocoon’s goo, and I wouldn’t have it any other way or at least I’ve come a lot closer to accepting it.
Thank you for your words. I needed them. 💗
I'd never heard anyone express the concept that an afterlife that's perfect (where no one ever makes mistakes) would not allow for learning or growing. Powerful idea.
I was incredibly harsh with my kids when they were elementary school age. Overwhelmed and suffering, I screamed at them, pushed them around, forgot they were little. In the forty years that has passed, all the work I’ve done and the life that has beat me up to a smooth, green stone, like sea glass, I am able to be genuinely compassionate toward the grandmother yanking her 5-year-old grandson to her car. He misbehaved in the store and now he’s gonna get it. He has no shoes. It’s summer. I go up to her and interrupt the rage. I say “ma’am. Look at me.” I wait until she does. “I get it.” I make eye contact and show her that I’ve been there. Then I say “just know that you’re not alone. Slow down. Take a breath. I’m Tina. What’s your name?” And we start to converse. And the storm passes without eating up the town.
My biggest mistake was believing it was a sign of strength to be numb. At a point in my life I fully believed my friends who were less expressive or less sensitive were stronger than me because I was "sensitive and weak."
When I started to embrace my softness, my sensitivity, my emotions- when I really started to let myself feel and realized the strength it gave me, that was when I grew into myself more than ever before.
"But I'M the grayest and the blobby-est of all the gray blobs!" This line from an episode of Fairly Oddparents where Timmy wished everyone was the same (only changing the people's OUTSIDES, not their insides) lives in my head perpetually. Some people will still be jerks even if we all look the same on the outside.
I've made many mistakes, especially as a kid. A lot of times afterwards I was swallowed by guilt and cried about it bc I knew it was wrong but still did it. Like when I lied saying my carpool number was called so I could visit my former teacher who was visiting with her sons. Yes, lying is wrong, yes I got and served lunch detention. But I don't regret that visit with an old fave, sorry.
The thing about mistakes though, is who said we made them? Us? Or someone else? I did a lot of time worrying about breaking rules that didn't exist outside of certain bubbles, some which I made myself (hi anxiety!). But once I learned it's okay, people aren't always 100% right and sometimes authority can be wrong, I made a lot of what OTHERS would consider mistakes, but what I consider freedom. And I've still got all the fingers and toes I started with and *looks around* as of 2:30 I haven't been smited...yet. I'm not perfect, at all. I've made mistakes, but that's how we grow and learn, like you said.
Growing fucking HURTS. Idk how long it's been or if you remember puberty, but I remember waking up in the middle of the night bc my charley horses were horrible! Fighting with your best friend of 10 years as a 15 year old hurts too, it's part of life. I do regret hurting feelings and saying things I can't take back. But it's in growing, getting THROUGH that pain and muck and crying watching revenge movies, that we really heal, we really learn. Sometimes the only way to really learn a lesson IS the hard way, the only way out is through.
idk if I rambled incessantly or there's anything y'all glean from that. Lmk.
- Mandy
I love the part where you say they will be awed by my resume, I’m overqualified.
I once was too busy/worried about other things to help a friend when she needed it, and there were terrible consequences of me not helping her. All she had asked for was my advice. I had thought I didn't matter or didn't make a difference, and I found out too late that I did. So now I take it very seriously when my friends ask me for help. And I am there.
This poem is fantastic to me. I agree that the idea that any of us on this planet are or should be perfect is a grave error. This would mean an end of learning, philosophy, art, science etc.. which makes no sense at all. The making mistakes and learning from them that you are talking about is the only truth. I don't want to become a Stepford wife.
Last year I adopted a dog from a shelter because I need another emotional support dog. I loved that dog instantly, even though it usually takes me months to really fall in love with a new animal. My mistake was listening to other voices about needing to get a dog that was more perfect, had less baggage, and wasn't as reactive to cats. I returned that wonderful dog after just three days of owning him. I regret that choice every day. I know now that what I needed to do was listen to my own heart and accept that beautiful creature for who he was, knowing he was just beginning a life of learning from his mistakes and I know we could have figured it out together. My finances and health prevented me from trying again with another dog, but also what prevented me was being torn between my own heart's values of adopting shelter dogs, and the service dog community insisting on getting dogs that are messed up by life already. I learned from this mistake that what matters most in my life is listening to my heart and doing everything I can to provide for it, even when it seems like other people don't agree.
So many things, big and small, that I've done wrong, and some have taken all my 65 years to even know they were mistakes to learn from instead of things to bury deep under the earth. Not setting boundaries in a relationship was a giant one, going against my own true north until I just couldn't anymore. Not understanding that most people really are doing the best they can in a given moment, so that I can understand that I'm doing the best ** I ** can do at the moment. This is a truly memorable poem, and I want to frame it. xo
One way I have grown into a compassionate person from my mistakes was to fully admit the truth of my mistake. I tend to blame others for mistakes that I made. If I would have just slowed down, stopped, asked questions, spoke aloud my needs, admit my mistakes than I could have compassionate, real relationships where we are not talking behind each other’s backs.
My children making all the same mistakes gifts perspective. I was ruthless on myself but have endless compassion for them.
I was sitting here beating myself up for the little mistakes I made today. Just add them to the resume. :)
I tried to live without the greater part, hid her away, exiled her in all encompassing gravity so great it turned her dark, invisible in my perception; her effect size was too great however, caused a system of self collapse after the light faltered and failed from his source. He believed in the perfect heaven, the all consuming fire which burns all dross. He pretended she didn't twist him round her, as he sunk toward the horizon. I am a binary-non binary system; my identifiers are imperfections. I am still straight laced as a Victorian corset, but I can't help bursting out all over.
Beautiful. 🤍✨ Just what I needed to hear. Thanks for this amazing gift. You voice brought me so much peace.
Thank you for eliciting introspection with everything you write or utter. In response to your thought-provoking question, above:
I have become more compassionate toward people who have berated or shown disdain or disinterest in my accomplishments because I learned (from a long break in contact with my critical mother) that I have often misinterpreted scorn from others as sheer meanness, directed at me to wound me, and born of their feeling of superiority, when, in fact, the source of their hurtful comments was really their bitterness and sense of inferiority, redirected at me—AKA jealousy. This revelation ironically uplifted my self-worth even as it challenged me to prove my worth further by showing compassion for those whose only way to acknowledge my worth was through their envy manifested as disdain. I now feel compelled to show them that they, too, have worth, and I can do that by not reacting to their seemingly mean-spirited comments with defensiveness or outrage, but rather, with a quietly compassionate comment like “I hear you.” No one gets hurt by such words, gently uttered.
"the lie that holy and perfect are the same thing" this resonated deep within me.
I'm reading a book called The Power of Discord and one of the central theses is that what matters is not the presence of mismatch or conflict, but the absence of repair. Fucking up is inevitable but we can choose whether or not we address the failure and repair the harm. I understand why people opt out. It's uncomfortable. And it's beautiful. I owe the best parts of myself to the times I've fucked up and showed up to repair.