I Almost Apologized


A few weeks ago I went to Sedona for the funeral I was planning.  I gathered my family, mindfully chose the art supplies I needed, and even lovingly packed a picnic. But I didn’t tell them that this is what I was doing.  I didn’t blast it on Facebook or Instagram either.  Didn’t text anyone the big news.

I just went and did my thing.  I kept it all a secret — even while they sat joyfully next to me.

A woman’s heart is like that.  It doesn’t need approval or validation.  It doesn’t need to double check that she’s doing it right or insure that everyone is counted for — that everyone feels included.

It just does what it needs to do to be at peace within one’s complex being.

Personally, I spend a lot of time in the underworld of my own psyche without ever broadcasting my tangents. I live chin deep in the murk and the sludge of the parts of my Soul we don’t talk about in polite company.

I’m versed in navigating the uncharted and dark corridors of the heartscape.  I have an affinity for the monsters and dragons that reign there freely.

But the thing about this blog post, and why it’s so important, is because I almost apologized for everything.

I almost said I was sorry for my intensity, my darkness, my way of making you feel uncomfortable and uneasy.

I almost apologized for the facets of my Self that no longer will stand for being contained and kept neatly pressed and folded.

But wouldn’t you do the same? Isn’t that our job, our calling, our reason for existing — to be the peacemaker, the nurturer, the supporting actor in someone else’s charade?

Shouldn’t our empathy always outweigh our sovereignty? Isn’t that what they tell us that a women’s heart is born for anyways?

Well, I’m not made from a delicate cloth.  I don’t sit softly on the rivers edge with my toes dangling in.  My feet are callused and ragged — my calves strong and defined.  My skin is pruned like golden raisins from all of the deep diving.

I’ve said my last apology.  I’ve offered my final excuse.  I’ve died a million times with each word I uttered with this ridiculous script I’ve been trained to use.

So finally, it’s simple.  I’ve burned up all my apologies — and now I’m using the charcoal to resurrect my Truth.

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