my story – Kai Raines

You know when you sit down to write your blog or finish it, and you have a plan…a perfectly good plan. Maybe even an interesting plan (you hope)…and instead of following the plan, which is what you’ve focused on, your writing takes you here….

When I was 29, I was in the middle of a divorce. My husband at the time had informed me he was gay…well, that makes it sound like we sat down and talked about it. He informed me by having affairs. Although he said a one-night stand was not an affair. I’m not sure the label really mattered. We were in a marriage counselors office, and the pastor of our church was there with us. I don’t remember why he was there, but he was a friend. The counselor began the session by asking a question, “Can we all agree that at this point (fill in name here) has not acted on his feelings?” I said yes right away. I can’t remember if my husband said yes or nothing. When she got to the pastor, he said he couldn’t answer the question. This is where you’d inject the Debbie Downer music. Seriously, where does a counseling session go after that. I don’t remember anything anyone said the rest of the hour. On the way home he confirmed that he had in fact had an affair…or one night stand or whatever the fuck you want to call it. He didn’t volunteer the information, but he did answer me honestly when asked.

Our separation began that day. I told him he had to go until he decided what he wanted. He didn’t think he wanted to be married anymore…at least not to me. Now if you’re thinking, “They’re both gay?” That’s true we are. I’ve written about it before. Look at my blog post “Gay by Design” and you’ll get your questions answered…or email me. I won’t go back through the whole story now because that’s not where I’m headed…at least I don’t think so. I’ve been surprised once already today.

So, we separated. He, thinking this was a short-term problem, started sleeping on the couch at his office. It was a family run business, and his mom was his boss…and a lovely person. I don’t know why he thought this would be a quick reconciliation, but he did. I was at home with a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old, and a 4-month-old infant. So, I was bored. Lol…that would be hysterical, right!?

All of this was taking place in Colorado. I graduated from the University of Colorado, got married, and then made my home there. I always said Chicago was a good place to be from…and I was. I went to junior high and high school in Naperville, the fastest growing suburb of Chicago at the time. Before my wedding, my parents moved back to St. Louis, where my sister and I were born and where my parents grew up. Now the scene is set….

So, I was talking to my mom one day…on the phone of course…and I was stressed. Have you ever noticed how all your children need you NOW as soon as you pick up the phone? It’s a law of nature. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but my mom wanted me to move back to St. Louis and live with them. She wanted me to move “home.” I told her that Colorado was my home now and that I wasn’t going to move. I would not take my kids away from their dad…plus it seemed like a bad idea, although I know she was offering me help. I said no and she said, “That’s okay. You won’t make it out there by yourself and you’ll end up back here.” Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say? That was what I thought but I said nothing. That moment is seared into my memory, so I feel confident that this was her exact quote. Need I say this was not the best time of my life.

I was stunned. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. In my mind I wondered if she wanted me to fail. And why would she? I got off the phone fast. I was devastated. Who says that to their daughter? Their daughter going through a divorce with 3 children under the age of 5? Why would she say that to me? My self-confidence was already at an all time low. And this wasn’t just about me. I had 3 little precious humans looking to me for security and answers to why daddy didn’t want to be married anymore. They depended on me to make everything okay for them even after their world was turned upside down. If I was okay, they knew they’d be okay. I was about as far from okay as you can be but my 3 little babies depending on me was more than enough motivation. Children take their cues from us, so I needed to fake it until I really was okay again.

So, we survived and lived happily ever after…yay. That’s not the point of the story. I’ve been reading about trauma and core language…as in what your core beliefs are that you communicate to yourself. Turns out I have a core message rumbling around in this head telling me that I won’t make it. I’ll never make it…I will always fail. At what specifically? Everything. The things that make you “successful.” In my family, a career and money were the main factors in success. A job people would ohhhh and ahhhh at and enough money to set yourself apart from others…providing a feeling of superiority. Being a “have” and not a “have not.”

Divorced with 3 babies…not a “have” for sure. A degree in psychology…but I “don’t know anything about psychology.” A master’s degree in counseling…but that wasn’t from a “real” school. A child protection worker…let someone else do that. Law degree…check. (I got one). A lawyer representing abused and neglected children…was I afraid to make money? I never even mentioned my last master’s degree. No point. Developed and ran a mindfulness program for young children…a what? So many fails. So many “not enoughs” … not even close.

I’ve heard the definition of sin as “missing the mark.” I think that may be the definition of my life according to my parents, not the sin part, but always missing the mark. Never quite got it right. Never making it…according to them.

But here’s the thing, my thoughts, my actions, my beliefs, my feelings are mine. All mine. They are my choices. No one else makes those choices for me. So, when I hear negative messages about myself, I have a choice…believe it or ignore it. Now when I was younger, it didn’t feel like much of a choice. Kids, even adults, believe what their parents tell them…because parents are supposed to know. Right? It took a long time to learn that just because they said something and they believed it didn’t make it true. It makes it their opinion. That’s all. Certainly, they’re entitled to their opinion…I wish they had not shared them so freely.

But now, now I’m a grown ass women (as my daughter loves to say) and I make my own choices. I decide what I believe about me…not my parents, not anyone else. Even though my parents are dead I still hear their voices in my head. Repeating messages of the past. The question now is how I respond to those voices, theirs and others. Everyone has an opinion. If I go along blindly with whatever the opinion of the day is about me then I abdicate my responsibility to myself. That would be failing…not making it…not succeeding. My success is not something I owe anyone, except myself. And I am the only one who knows what success looks like for me.

We become what we believe…what we think. With our thoughts we create the world. That’s why individuals can experience the same event and each interpret it differently and respond to it differently. We see differently because we think differently. We see differently because the framework through which we see the world and make sense of it is unique to each of us. We all have a story of what is real or not real, true or false, accepted or rejected. Everything we see, hear, feel, or experience goes through that story…the narration of our life…according to us.

I can be taught to believe certain things. I can be told all sorts of stories. And I can experience a lifetime of challenges or successes. Ultimately, the only thing that’s real and true for me is what I tell myself. What I believe is what I make real. That is what is true for me. I am the only person with the power to change the story that I have created about my life. Only me. I created it. I can change it. It is a tremendous act of self love to tell myself the truth…to tell yourself the truth. It requires awareness on my part. To know myself well enough to know what’s true. And the wisdom to know that what’s true today may not be true tomorrow…because I am always changing. You are always changing.

I want to be more…more kind, compassionate, loving, understanding, flexible, open, present, aware. I want that for me. I want that for you. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Love yourself enough to know yourself. Love other people enough for them to feel safe in sharing who they are. And believe them when they show you. Whatever the question is, love is the answer…always.

There was a prompt this morning in my Oprah’s “The Life You Want” calendar. Yes, I am the person who still keeps a paper calendar, two actually. I’m happy you could meet me. Check that off your bucket list. You’re welcome. Anyway, in the planner there was a question that I thought was intriguing, “How do I know when I’ve truly forgiven someone? How do I feel?” I found myself wondering how do I feel? And how do I know?

I have been thinking about the idea of forgiving and forgetting for a few months now. It started with a Brandi Carlile song in which she says that it’s harder to forgive than to forget. I got stuck on that idea and wondering if it’s true. I consider myself a forgiving person, so how do I know that I’ve forgiven someone, and do we ever really forget?

I come from a family that keeps score. And I mean a detailed accounting of everything you’ve ever done wrong. And not just that you were wrong but how you were wrong and exactly how wrong you were. There are family members who would be happy to recite your lifetime of egregious behavior and all the tragic results…usually none…only tragic to the scorekeeper. It’s Irish Alzheimer’s, you forget everything except the grudges. Do I even need to say that my grandmother was born in Ireland? Probably not.

The question Oprah asked before the knowing if you’ve truly forgiven someone, was “Is it possible to forgive and forget?” I don’t know. I believe we are capable of forgiveness. I also believe we are capable of convincing ourselves that we’ve forgiven something or someone when we haven’t. When it’s easier to believe we’re done with all that. We say we’ve forgiven, but have we?

Forgive means, “an intentional decision to let go of resentment and anger or cancel a debt.” Now to forget means, “fail to remember, neglect to do, bring, or mention something, put something out of one’s mind.” It seems like forgiving is something you have to do. You have to try to forgive and work at it. But you can’t try to forget because then you are remembering in order to forget, and how could that possibly work? It’s confusing. To forget I must willfully ignore something but how can I forget when I am remembering in order to willfully ignore it. Maybe we can’t forget.

Forgiveness is deliberate. You make a decision to forgive, to release whatever feelings you have so they are no longer prominent in your life…or a main focus of your thoughts and feelings. Forget has many synonyms including disregard, ignore, neglect, overlook, slight…just to name a few. Passing over something without giving it due attention or willfully ignoring also describes forgetting. Those don’t seem so helpful. Forgiving takes extra attention and forgetting takes willful ignoring.

I’m not sure forgetting should be our goal. Ignoring, disregarding, neglecting, those are not activities we need to strengthen. It’s similar to repressing or denying our feelings. Trying not to feel because it’s less painful or to forget because it’s easier than dealing with your feelings or the person who hurt you. In general, repressing and denying are not the best practices for us. Those are the things we do that keep us stuck in patterns and habits we wish we would break free from.

I know we can forgive. I don’t think we forget. We can’t erase our minds. Our memories are a part of us. All the events of our lives have shaped who we have become…and are becoming. Maybe forgetting isn’t in our best interest. If we forget, aren’t we at risk of repeating the same mistakes again and again?

I think that the the actual memory of who or what did something bad to us is not the issue. It’s the meaning we attach to that memory, or the repetitive thought of that memory, that’s the problem. We give all of our experiences in our life meaning…we connect them to the story that we tell ourselves…it’s the story of us that we currently believe. That story makes it impossible for us to forgive, let go, and move forward in our lives. We’re stuck spinning the same story over and over again…until, maybe someday, we can do something new. Make a different choice.

About ten years ago I had a very close friendship end, and I didn’t know why. I tried to find out by calling, texting, emailing, and finally a handwritten letter. None of which got a response from my former friend. I was left to make my own meaning out of that experience because I couldn’t get any information from the source. I have not forgotten that time in my life. When I look back on it there’s still a twinge of pain and sadness because of the end of the relationship. Have I forgiven her? Yes. Have I forgiven myself? Yes. I blamed myself for a long time, even though there no specific reason why I was to blame. After ten years I still don’t know what happened. That incident is no longer prominent in the story of my life. I have been able to file it away in a permanent “I don’t know” place and let it be. I have forgiven but I still remember…although much less often.

Now I can’t stop a thought from popping into my head. Thoughts come and go all day every day. I can’t stop a thought from arising, but I can stop myself from running wild with it. I can stop fixating on that thought and running down the rabbit hole of “you did me wrong” again…for the 4,000^th time. I control my responses…always. Even when it all seems crazy, I have some shaky ass kind of control. I control the story line and I control me. I can run with the “I suck as a person” theme without any evidence to back that up or I can stop the thought in its tracks. I can relax, acknowledge the memory, feel whatever I feel, and then let it go. A thought never has to become a major motion picture in my head. I can just let it go. I can affirm to myself that I felt sad, hurt, betrayed, disappointed, traumatized…whatever all the feelings were. I can still feel those feelings, but I’m not stuck in their grip. I control me. Emotions do not control me. I control them.

Our feelings change all the time. Sometimes it’s moment by moment. I am safe to feel all my feelings. Feelings are not a problem. Feelings are energy. Clinging to feelings or perceived wrongs is a problem. Keeping score does not help us here. Who wants to win the contest of the “most wrongs done to you?” My grandmother would have wanted to win and now my mom is up for the award. But why? How does that serve us? What does keeping score really do for us? Does it make us more compassionate or kind? Does it make us more flexible and loving? A big NO to both of those. Keeping score makes us rigid, unable to bend or to trust.

My problems arise when I make my feelings solid. When I don’t allow them to flow freely but instead, I hang on to them. I solidify my wounds and make them who I am…the most victimized person around, according to me. We might even have a false sense of righteousness…I’m better than you because you hurt me so. You done me wrong, as we say in the south, and now I will tell you all about it. Every moment of my pain described for you in excruciating detail. I have a firm grip on my pain and I’m not ever letting go. And if I can’t let it go, I’ll make sure you can’t either.

Let’s be real…forgiveness is hard. It’s hard to let go of something or someone who caused us pain. It’s hard not to retaliate. It’s hard to go high when they go low. Forgiveness does not just happen. Forgiveness is a choice. It’s a choice to move forward. A choice to live and move and breathe. It’s a choice for freedom. Our own freedom and perhaps for the person who hurt us as well. It’s a choice to honestly assess what we lost. It’s a choice to let it go. When I choose freedom for myself, I choose it for you too. That’s the gift of forgiveness.

Forgiveness is not earned. It’s a gift. Maybe if I had to earn forgiveness it’d be easier for me to forgive myself and easier to forgive someone else. Maybe then forgiving would make more sense, or be easier, because I earned it…you earned it. I deserve it. Really no one deserves forgiveness, do they? We give a tremendous gift when we forgive someone who has hurt us, or we forgive ourselves. We let ourselves off the hook for something wrong or hurtful that we did. And we let other people off the hook as well. We make a choice to leave the past in the past, where it belongs.

So, let’s be real…I’m choosing forgiveness…vulnerability and forgiveness…because forgiving is a vulnerable place to be. I choose to not to forget. What I remember instructs me. I will decide who I want to be. I make the choices, and I choose not to allow bitterness and resentment to define me…to become me. I am so much more. I am not stuck unless I choose it. I am fluid and changing all the time. To be alive is to be in a constant state of change.

We learn by loving and by forgiving. I’m not going to forget. I learn by remembering. We learn by remembering. Let’s remember that love always wins. So always choose love.

Tag: my story

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