Be grateful to everyone

All weekend I've been thinking about that little formula for determining whether to say something you're not sure you should say. First, three questions: Is it true? Is it kind? And is it necessary? Then, the formula: if it isn't at least two out of the three, then it probably doesn't need to be said.

Within an hour or so of sending that email to the ex, I started feeling crappy about it. I kept hearing the voice of Thumper (from my first favorite record, a version of Bambi narrated by Shirley Temple that my parents say I could recite from memory by the age of two): "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

So I've been torturing myself over it for several days now, feeling guilty, feeling mean, and all the while impatiently and sort of half-consciously brushing away this other feeling that kept fluttering around at the edge of my consciousness, which I have not had time to really pay attention to until today. Surprise! It's compassion and forgiveness, and a peaceful open-hearted hope that he really will be happy in his new life. It's the way I wanted to feel when he first told me, but couldn't because –

Well, why couldn't I? I think it's because maybe what I said to him the other day really was necessary after all – necessary for me – and I hadn't said it yet. I've never in my life said anything like that to anyone who's wronged me. I've always felt like the original wrong was bad enough, and that acknowledging it to the person who inflicted it would only make it worse – I would feel I'd been impolite by drawing attention to their bad behavior, and I'd also feel, in some weird way, even more humiliated.

In mulling this over I kept coming back to that idea that expressing anger or pain is a sign of weakness, and it finally clicked that I don't believe that anymore. It's not weak. It's just the truth, at least in the moment you feel it. Saying the words to the actual person, clearly and directly, could actually be an expression of strength. Hmm!

Of course there's still the possibility that showing an injury will be taken by the other person as an opportunity to kick you when you're down ... So I guess you need to consider who you're talking to. Also, just because it feels liberating to state the painful truth doesn't mean it's never going to feel painful again.

I've known for a long time that the residual feelings I have over my marriage and divorce are not about what he did or said, but about how I reacted and who I became when I failed to take care of myself. The fact that I did get out, eventually, is something to be grateful for. I think of the Christian nuts I saw on television the other night, waving signs demanding that divorce be made illegal, and I feel very grateful for second chances.

For myself, and for him, too. I do hope he's happy.

And I did write him a brief postscript today, which I will not be publishing here. With a satisfied sigh of relief I am pleased to be closing the book on that chapter of my life again. At least until the next time it comes up.

I hope over time I'll be able to instantly recognize these feelings as indications that there's something about my own self right now that I need to be looking at, instead of always interpreting them first as a re-opening of an old wound.

I ran across this the other day while looking for something on one of the logong slogans having to do with gratitude: "... all those who hurt me are worthy of gratitude since they are my companions and helpers for clearing away the obscurations of disturbing emotions ...."

The key words being "clearing away." Everyone has times of feeling obscured by disturbing emotions. This practice of experiencing and then clearing away some of those emotions probably has made me stronger. It feels that way to me today, anyway.