Last fall before I returned to work after having surgery on my thumb, I started writing a new book. No, I don’t have a working title, it has not yet come to me.
I’ve been working the last several weeks on editing the first few chapters. As I started the editing process, I would read something and decide it needed more depth, or something that was said or had happened I didn’t really like so I would re-work the sentence, sometimes even the entire paragraph.
That got me thinking. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do that with our lives? Perhaps edit some pieces of our own story? Not everything, mind you, because I do believe that everything we go through can provide an opportunity for learning and potential growth. Yet I can think of a few things I would like to go back to and do a revision.
I’ve been lucky with my children in that when they were teenagers, they didn’t go through extreme situations that some teens endure. But there were moments of conflict when my parenting was less than stellar. One particular argument with my daughter I did not handle well. I do remember it, but I had apparently blocked out some of the hurtful things I said to her. She remembered.
A few years ago, we were talking over FaceTime as she lives several states away. This argument between us had been brought up. As the story was being retold, she relayed some of the things I had said. I was shocked and horrified by the things I had said. I believe her. I even think I understand my faulty thought process back then, yet I still can’t take those words back.
If only I could use my delete button, like I do on my computer when writing my new book, and revise that whole conversation. I know I could have done better.
I also remember the day after our FaceTime conversation, when my hurtful words were recounted to me. I could not get it out of my mind. How much I must have hurt her. That day after work, I called her. I told her how sorry I was. I knew that it was not necessarily her behavior that spawned those terrible words, it was me in reactive mode, feeling like a bad mom, rather than her being a normal teenager. I let her hear me, her mom, vulnerable and feeling guilt and remorse. We had a good conversation that day, and I hope it healed some old wounds.
So even though I can’t alter that particular chapter in our lives, I do believe if we allow ourselves to be honest, learn, do better and make amends, perhaps we can create a second edition of our story.
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