Growing up in a challenging house, it was difficult to keep some semblance of order. As an adult, I have seen myself trying to hold back the past from moving forward. I am standing there with my arms stretched out to the sides, palms facing backwards. I believed if I could hold it all back, I would be able to protect and insulate my son from all that history as we moved forward. I felt strained a lot of the times, trying to not react like my parents did to me. I believe that it is not my son’s fault for what happened to me and did not want to make him pay for that.
At church, I saw that I have done the outstretched hands thing for so many years when I saw another option. What happens when I move my hands from the side to upwards? Up toward the heavens? Letting it all wash away? It has been so much responsibility to do that holding back work out of fear that it will gravely affect my, our, future. There is a ominous feeling of being destined to repeat the past. When I look back, it does not have to be destiny or fate. I can change the direction and make wiser choices so that past does not encapsulate and run my life.
Using the symbolism of lifting up my arms upward and outward is freeing. I am not
responsible for what happened then. I am responsible for what is happening now within my own life and my son’s as he was growing up. What if with each narrow place in my life I lift up my outstretched arms to wash away at least some of the struggle and pain? What if with each blessing I lift up my outstretched arms to receive abundance with gratitude? Why not?
As I grow and heal through the past, I am learning to define who I am, not who my parents and the kids in elementary, junior and senior high school defined me and who I meet today. With such a jumbled history, I am doing the best I can. I have learned to let go of perfection and being acceptable to everyone as if this were a global popularity contest. I am ever evolving into a person that I can live with in abundance and gratitude. With my arms up and outstretched.