Not quite to the Divine part

[I just wanted to say thank you to those of you who have listened (in RL and here) to me gripe and sent me good vibes. I feel like Blanche DuBois, only more sober and with less of an accent. And without the creepy brother-in-law.]

Self-defeating habit #3: Death grip

So I've been thinking about forgiveness. It has some nasty connotations, that word. As in

I forgive you
because I am good, you are bad, and you need me to forgive you. Go on, admit it. Admit it, damn you!
I forgive you
because otherwise I will be bad, we must forgive, must must must must go ahead, do it again.
I forgive you
but don't worry, I'll find some way to make you pay, probably by being a complete Betty to you for the next 10 years.
I forgive you
but not really.

Well.
But then there's the definition of forgiveness that I've seen Anne Lamott (among others) write about:

Forgiveness is giving up the wish that things had been different.

I wish that The Boy's teacher understood how to encourage him instead of be frustrated by him.
I wish that The Boy didn't have ADHD.
I wish that the Ex was well. I wish he had made different choices. I wish I had made different choices in our relationship. I wish we had been able to love each other in a way that would have turned out differently.
I wish that my father had made different choices. I wish that my mother's second husband hadn't been deranged.
I wish that I hadn't hated myself for as long as I did.
I wish that my kids didn't have to grow up in a split family. I wish they didn't have to deal with emotional illness.

These are lovely wishes. I'm very attached to them. I've nurtured some of them from tiny little wisps of wishes into huge towering blinding flames of wishes. I don't want to let them go. But they're hanging on around my neck and they're dragging me down to the bottom.

I think I'll let them go. I think I'll swim. Who knows, I might even decide to fly.

Go home now!