untying knots

to find more freedom

Photo by Manuel Sardo on Unsplash

Hi friend,

I got on my mat and just a few poses and breaths later I knew I had to apologize to my husband. The slight dread at having to apologize crept in, dwarfed by the dread of acting from an old habit I thought I’d left behind. I knew better. I mostly did better. But I hadn’t this time.

It was something like puppy-moming, regular-moming, six games of kid soccer in 48 hours, and saying yes to too much that I’d lost my best self in. Put my own needs and joy too far down on the list until that point on a Sunday to have caused me to crankily snarl at my husband the night before (plus, if I’m being honest, a nod to the (somehow still) blinding light of hormones).

I continued my practice, got all sweaty, and then pretty much the first words out of my mouth when I saw my husband again were: I’m sorry I weaponized my resentment.

I have a theory about the world. That a lot of its suffering is due to people taking out their own stuff on others. That we as humans have two choices: to alchemize pain, annoyance, and trauma—through breath, movement, therapy, writing, mindfulness (or whatever works for you)…—or to pass the pain along. To continue the cycle.

Despite this theory that I think about a lot—even teach—I’d done it. Taken my lack of feeling under-Meghan-ed out on him.

There was a moment when the shame of not doing better when I know better, even teach, made me want to run from the apology.

But there’s a teacher I love—Thich Nhat Hanh—who talks about internal formations. That the knots—of anger, regret, fear—will become bigger unless we tend to them. Time passing even tightening and strengthening the knots. Making them harder to undo.

And I reminded myself too of what another favorite teacher shared about mindfulness. It’s not about always being able to be aware and compassionate—always showing up open-hearted—but instead caring about caring, valuing it.

Reminded myself that if I’m ever striving for perfect in anything, it’s a mirage to keep me stuck, from growth. Or as Anne Lamott says: Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.

My husband accepted the apology and we moved on. And I forgave myself for forgetting what I so deeply know—learned the very hard way: that if I don’t take good care of myself, things can get, ugly.

I hope you’re taking good care of yourself—alchemizing the little and big difficulties—so you can make all the gold you can. And noticing when forgiving yourself or saying sorry for something can free you, even if just a little.

I’ll be doing the same. And who knows, we’ve got another soccer tournament this weekend, maybe I’ll do better ;).

Meghan