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Muffins and Mayhem, Recipes for a Happy (if disorderly) Life
Dear Reader,
From my email, a poignant letter from a reader.
"Hi Suzanne, I'd like to let you know how much your daily emails mean to me. I always find something of interest that pertains to my own life in one way or another. I was very interested in your column about cleaning out the 'junk' from the rooms in your mind. I'd like to do that as well, as I feel like I'm carrying around the entire world. So tell me, HOW do you let go? My memory isn't as sharp as it used to be, and I'm sure several memories are gone because I've forgotten them, but what about the painful ones that are still living inside my head? How do I let go of those? I realize there isn't a cut and dried answer, but maybe you can help me on my journey to clean out the junk so I can make room for more good memories. Thank you again for my daily inspiration."--Best regards, Irene
(Suzanne replies:)
Dear Irene,
As soon as I read your letter it made me remember a quote by Anne Sexton, "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." I can't say what those words meant to Ms. Sexton when she wrote them, but they remind me that in order to let go of painful memories, I need to find a way to rewrite the story I tell myself. I'm not suggesting that I can change the facts--it is, what it is. But if I don't want to carry the gut-wrenching pain with me for the rest of my life, I need to be able to let go of the emotions I feel when I think about what happened.
So the first thing I do is make a decision to turn the incident into a project. Instead of being the injured party, I'm an investigator, revisiting the "scene of the crime." I replay the situation in my mind, but now instead of concentrating on the pain and sadness I feel, I'm simply noting how it all went down. "She said, he said," then he did this or that; I hypothesize about choices made, and the possible reasons why. People don't always make good choices, including myself. Understanding "why" helps me to forgive. Forgiving doesn't mean that someone didn't do me wrong, but until I can find a way to forgive, I'll continue to carry the emotional baggage. I don't mean to trivialize what happened to you, or the pain that you feel. But there's so much joy waiting for you Irene; don't let those painful memories steal your joy. You deserve a happy life. It's a funny thing about rewriting a story. Eventually I tell the new story to myself so many times, that the original seems to fade away.
I'd like to share another very special quote with you. Years ago, Ann, a reader at the book clubs, sent an email and before she signed off, Ann closed with these words: "You take good care." I can't explain it, but those simple words continue to stay with me. Every time I think about them I feel loved and cared for. I've never met Ann, but the words she wrote rescued me again just the other day. Everything I tried to do was a struggle. Nothing was going right and then I heard Ann whispering, "You take good care."
I don't know where your life's journey is right now, or where it will take you, but I wish you well. "Irene, you take good care."
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
** If you're giving my book to Mom for Mother's Day make your request for an autographed bookplate, letter, recipe card and bookmark. Goto: www.MUFFINSANDMAYHEM.COM
Warmest regards,
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
www.MuffinsandMayhem.com
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