I know. I write these things, putting them out there like it's supposed to be easy. I know it's not. And sending love? What kind of new-age anti-wisdom is that?
Well, let me tell you--I think I get this love thing. When I have a day looming ahead of me that, really, leaves me wondering what the heck I did to myself, and who is this maniacal dictator wielding my calendar anyway, the last thing I want to do is offer love (aka, forgiveness; aka, it's-all-right-we'll-get-through-ness) to myself, the perpetrator of this stress-fest.
See? That's bloody hard, right? And that's why it's worth doing. Think of it this way: if you don't forgive and love that small, soft creature inside you who, really, is as tough as steel and KNOWS this is for your higher good, then every interaction you have today--every client, every student, every friend--will feel as if she did something wrong, as if she were putting you out, as if she were invading your space. And all because YOU put her in YOUR space. On purpose.
Yeah. Take a look at that pill before you swallow it. We do these things to ourselves. And you know what? Really, it's okay. Even if it's a mistake, a relapse, a madness-of-the-moment, it's okay. It's okay because we have that ultimate spell in our own books of shadows: love.
Just try it. If you can't feel it, who cares? Just say it. I love you. I'll never stop loving you. No matter what. (And you'll fight that--trust me. You'll fight your own voice, your own kindness. But it doesn't make that statement any less true).
I love you. No matter what. I will never stop loving you.
No matter what.