The rain is coming down. Pounding on the roof. Windows are open and the soft ocean breeze is wafting in. My heart is full from a day full of exploring nature, new places, not wanting for anything, wonderful experiences with friendly people, and delicious food. My stomach is full, fuller than it's been in a while. So full it hurts. Some ginger tea would sure be nice.
I am sitting in my bed, reflecting on the past few days and feeling the magnitude of how fortunate I am. For my good health, my loving family and friends, and for the financial ability to make vacations like this a reality. For feeling so guided and supported. For the investment I've been making in my mental and spiritual health. For the words that pour out of me, words that I've read and reaffirmed over and over again, words that used to seem so foreign are now freely flowing out of my mouth, in an attempt to share this light.
Being articulate has never been my thing. I stumble over my words, and my mouth moves more quickly than I can form coherent thoughts. I'm goofy and awkward and soft spoken, I think these are a direct result of being the youngest child and the only girl in my family. Often ignored or left out of conversations, either intentionally or not, it was of notice to me. And those lessons I learned early on from those incidents still affect me, even though I am becoming more sure of myself, and at the same time, accepting my place in my family without resentment.
Just the other day, my brother, his wife, and my mom and dad were all having a conversation about gun control. I was sitting in the back row of this massive SUV and having a hard time following the conversation (I have bad hearing). My brother made the comment that (in his opinion) while it's totally fine to own guns for self-defense and/or hunting, no one needs to own an arsenal of 200 firearms. Militia-forming and Second Amendment what-have-you. So I asked "So what's the limit?" "Well there is no limit." "I know there's no limit now, but you're saying 200 is too many, so what do you think the limit is?"
My question, which seemed true to the progression of the conversation, was met with dead silence. On everyone's part. No one said anything for a good 10 count. When someone spoke again, it was like my question was never asked, and the conversation just flowed on. A few years ago, I would have been angry and hurt, to the point where I would not enjoy the rest of the day (which happened to be the last day my brother and sister-in-law were there). But, instead, I acknowledged my hurt feelings, let them flow through me, told my ego to give it a rest, and just stared happily out the window for the rest of the trip home, as my family kept on having conversations without me.
Finding and accepting your place, with baby steps of change, full of confidence, love, and forgiveness. That's my jam.
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