write on.

I am approximately three months behind in my journal.

Which is exceptionally unusual of me.

Three months!

That’s quite a stretch of time to remember.

I mean, I have trouble recalling what I had for dinner last night, let alone what I was doing three months ago.

Except the reason I’m so late in my journal is because I know exactly what happened three months ago.

Of which I can recall all too vividly.

See, every time I sit down and open up my journal, pen poised to make magic across her bare naked pages, I panic. Usually, I get a few sentences in, then I very quickly shut her pages and put her away, avoiding the volley of painful memories that go along with reliving a rather emotional time in my life.

As days pass, as weeks stretch into months, I find myself getting more and more behind, and as new memories develop and new experiences beg themselves to be recorded, I’ve started feeling this guilt and pressure to go ahead and get caught up already.

Except I can’t.

It hurts.

So the other night, I tried giving it another go. I sat in my bed, pulled out my brand new journal (which should’ve been inspiration enough, all those pretty pages just waiting for my dancing pen), wrote barely a paragraph, then I put her aside, promising myself that I’d do it tomorrow when I’m in a “better state.”

Except the next day, I wasn’t.

Wherein lies my problem.

And it wasn’t until I was chest deep in a meditation with a focus on self-forgiveness that I even realized just how deep this pain ran.

As I unknowingly sat down for what I thought was going to be an ordinary practice, I very quickly found myself revisiting what happened three months ago, in full honest reflection.

As my teacher guided me through the challenge of sitting in the emotional upset that I’ve been avoiding in my journal for weeks, asking me to reflect on a time I feel I let myself down, I experienced a rather moving awakening.

And I discovered, amidst an emotionally charged practice, that it wasn’t necissarily the pain of what had happened months ago that was prohibiting me from writing, but these unresolved feelings towards myself that were keeping me from moving on.

Feelings of unforgiveness, shame, embarrassment, and disappointment.

It was a heart opening meditation, let me tell you.

Because while I’m sitting there, bawling in bed with this profound discomfort just hoping and wishing and praying that it would all end soon, I instead found myself leaning into the pain and what motivated me to make the decisions I made.

How would it feel if right now, you forgave yourself for what’s been causing you pain?

Well, I’m imagining it would feel a hell of a lot better than what I’m feeling.

Try giving yourself compassion for the mistake(s) you made, remembering that you’re human and not alone in your suffering.

Easier said than done.

But, since I’m here, I’ll give it a try.

So, with tears running wild down my cheeks, I took a few deep breaths and imagined what it would feel like to release all of these cruel thoughts that have been haunting me for months.

I knew this forgiveness wasn’t going to happen right then and there. With how long I’ve been harboring these feelings, I knew it would be a process that would take time. Of course the teacher acknowledged this: see if you can offer yourself patience with the intention to forgive when possible.

With that, I breathed in patience, and I breathed out forgiveness. Over and over again until I felt this tender softening within me, this soothing sensation in my soul as I left the past in the past, appreciating all that I’ve learned in the time since then.

As far as my journaling goes, we’ve been catching up. A friend of mine suggested I start with writing just seven minutes a day. If it’s too painful to continue on, at least I got seven minutes worth of writing in; but if, at seven minutes, I feel motivated to continue, I write on.

Write on.