Compassion and Self-Forgiveness

I have just spent the past two days indulging in myself. Two days in the mystical, magic lands of Glastonbury and Avalon. Attending a Yoni Oracle workshop was the highlight of the two days. Six hours with my friend Georgie who birthed the Yoni Oracle cards and a circle of women who poured their souls into the alter and shared their hearts and wombs with the group.

Strong messages came through in the cards, the discussions with the women, the empathy and the love. I felt surrounded with love for the entire day.

The Yoni of Compassion is a card that I often pull for myself at home when I have played with these cards that I have owned for two years, before understanding fully how to use them. Now Georgie has transferred a huge amount of guidance over to me, us the group and I can feel the intuitive gifts running through me.

I just pulled a card as I sit here looking for writing inspiration and The Yoni of Compassion jumps out of the pack as I shuffle them. She is not going away. I need to forgive. And the starting point is forgiving myself.

What does Self-Forgiveness Feel Like?

It feels scary and a bit like I have no idea what I am doing. I feel like I need to be at peace with myself for all the decisions I have taken that have had both positive and negative impacts on my life. I need to look at myself and the child within with compassion and let her know that all those decisions were the right things to do, to make for her.

I separated from my husband to look after her. The relationship was not fulfilling, I was unhappy, we were showing our children how to NOT communicate. The relationship has ended its course, it had to end. I’m sorry to my children for upending their lives. But I’m not sorry for wanting a better life for me and for them.

I want them to see a happy mum, and dad. I want them to see both parents living independently. I want them to see effective communication from me, I want them to see me happy with friends. I want them to see me running a successful and impactful business. I want them to see me caring for people, the environment, my community, giving to charity.

Divorce was the only way.

It all comes back to Family.

My original family, my mum and dad, my sister and my niece and nephew. There aren’t many of us, even less after my parents died 28 and 25 years ago.

I have stand out memories of things that have been said to me in the past. Like that I was an accident. I was born when my mum was 42. My mum’s body was ravaged throughout her life with tuberculosis and only one lung, a baby at 42, a hysterectomy, angina, cataracts and then a heart attack that was always going to kill an unwell woman at 58. I always felt like I was somehow to blame for my mother death.

I even remember thinking one day as a child, I wonder if my mum will die, and then she did. Did I cause this?

My mum CHOSE to give birth to me. I was a gift in her forties. My step mum Eve told me that me a story of when my dad came to see her to tell her that mum was pregnant. He was so happy. They used the withdrawal method; I mean come on. It’s like 70% effective. They wanted another baby.

And there I was. Born just after my sisters 21^st birthday. I was so loved. The golden child. With an idyllic childhood. I was allowed to do what I wanted, mum and dad had learnt the tough part of bringing up kids in their twenties with my siblings, with me it was relaxing. I was an easy child who loved to read, draw, do sums, count money (yep), bake, sew, play with friends.

My mum gave her all to me as a mum. And when she died, she passed on her spirit, her intuition and her love to me as a gift to replace the loss of her in body and mind.

I embrace that love and welcome it and have used it my entire life to make the world a better place. Even if that meant choosing a few questionable relationships.

I am letting go of the feelings that my sister, and thus her children reject me. Its their decision. I am my mother’s daughter, not my sister’s daughter. My niece and nephew are exactly that, not my siblings. If I upset them with the life I lead now, the choices I have made then so be it. If they chose to not reach out to me then so be it. I forgive myself for prioritising myself.

Compassion feels like….

Soft fluffy clouds, the most comfortable bed, my hair being stroked, being listened to. It smells like strawberries and roses. I can hear the birds singing and the water lapping at the shore. It’s the sand between my toes and collecting shells on the beach, searching for the elusive heart stones that I love to find.

Compassion is focussing on self-love. Loving my body, my mind for the incredible things they are. That birthing three beautiful boys who are healthy in body, my rock, my challenge, and my baby angel.

Compassion is eating well, vegetables, fruit, body food. It’s drinking water. It’s exercising, walking, running, practising yoga. It’s taking myself away for mini holidays to the coast and recharging my sea loving batteries.

Compassion is hugging others and being hugged. It’s touching myself. It’s combing my hair, wearing red lipstick. It’s having long oil filled bubble baths. It’s reading books, it’s writing. It’s being with people who love me, understand me, inspire me and make me a better person.

And so the journey continues.