Walking My Own Lane — Because I Can’t Walk Yours

September apparently isn’t finished with me. Not yet. 😂

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote that I needed some breathing room. Then I got bronchitis. The Universe thought I needed a more literal demonstration.

I’ve spent much of September resting, trying to get my lungs back on speaking terms with the rest of my body, postponing client work, and taking a break from writing my memoir.

But while I’ve been sitting still, some other things have been moving.

Relationships. Old conversations. Old hurts.

And some very old ideas about what love requires of me.

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Looking Again

For the past several weeks, the astrology I follow has been asking us to look again at things we thought we understood.

Old beliefs. Old conversations. Relationships. Decisions we made based on what we knew at the time. And I’ve certainly been doing that.

It actually began before September, when a difficult conversation with someone I love brought me face-to-face with an old pattern.

I felt that familiar pull to explain myself. Defend myself. To prove that I love people I have loved for decades.

But this time, something in me said, No. Not anymore.

Not because I stopped loving anyone or because I was angry and wanted to punish someone.

I simply realized I was finished proving something I already knew to be true.

I know whom I love, and I know how deeply I love them.

And I don’t need to put that love on trial every time someone questions it.

That was different for me.

And Then Another Door Opened

A few weeks later, something completely unexpected happened.

Another person I love called me and apologized for years of hurt between us.

That was enormous.

Not because an apology magically erases everything that happened before it. It doesn’t.

But someone I love took responsibility for their part in what had happened between us and reached toward me.

And I could reach back.

We spent time together afterward, and it was genuinely lovely.

Within a matter of weeks, then, two important relationships showed me two very different things.

One showed me where I needed a firmer boundary, and the other showed me what can happen when someone takes responsibility and reaches toward me.

I didn’t have to chase or convince.

I didn’t have to explain years of hurt until someone understood it exactly the way I did.

Someone walked toward me. And I could meet them there.

There was something important in that.

Then I Hit the Floor

Literally. 😂

The very next morning, my blood pressure went haywire.

My blood-pressure medication was too strong, and I fainted three times. I managed to bounce myself around the room in the process and sprain my wrist.

Three days later, after dealing with coughing and breathing problems, I was diagnosed with bronchitis. And suddenly that phrase I’d been using—breathing room—wasn’t a metaphor anymore.

There are medical explanations for what happened to me, and I take those seriously.

But I also don’t experience my physical, emotional, and spiritual lives as separate compartments.

For me, they all work together, and timing matters.

And September was making me stop.

Physically.

Emotionally.

In my work.

In my writing.

And, apparently, in some of my relationships too.

I Can’t Create Both Sides of a Relationship

While I was slowing down, I began thinking about some of the most important relationships in my life.

My grandchildren.

These aren’t grandchildren I saw occasionally while they were growing up.

For many years, they shared my home and everyday life.

I was there for ordinary mornings and birthdays and school days and dinners and all the millions of little moments that turn children into people you know by heart.

I watched them grow up.

I love them beyond words.

And as our family relationships changed over the years, I continued doing what G-Mom does.

Birthday cards.

Christmas cards.

Money.

Gifts.

Texts.

Sometimes there was a response.

Most often, though, there wasn’t.

Sometimes I didn’t even know whether something had been received.

And I kept doing it because I’m G-Mom.

I love them.

And I genuinely enjoy giving to them.

But somewhere in all this September stopping and looking again, I finally recognized something that had been sitting right in front of me: I was trying to create both sides of a relationship.

Most of those little boys I had a hand in raising aren’t little boys anymore.

They are grown men now, and I love them exactly as much as I did before I realized that.

I will always remember their birthdays.

I’ll always send cards.

And I’d genuinely love to know what they’re doing with their lives. But I’m no longer routinely sending money into silence.

That isn’t punishment.

It isn’t Contact G-Mom and you get money.

It’s much simpler than that.

For me, gifts like these belong inside some recognizable relationship.

And relationships are a two-way street.

I’m not asking for frequent phone calls or visits or detailed reports. Good Lord, no. 😂

A text once in a while saying, “Hey, G-Mom,” would mean something.

A “Thanks, I got your card” would mean something.

Tell me something about your life. Send me a picture. Let me know how to reach you.

Give me some way to know the person you’re becoming.

I can maintain my side of a relationship with them. But I cannot create theirs.

So, I Wrote Some Letters

I decided to write individually to several of my grandchildren.

I wrote individual letters because they are different people, and my relationships with them are different.

I told them, in different ways, essentially the same thing:

I’m here. I love you. I’d like the chance to know the adults you’ve grown into.

Here’s how to reach me.

The door is open.

And then I left the decision with them.

One sentence I wrote probably says more about what has changed in me than anything else: I can’t walk your lane. I can only walk my own.

Well, damn.

Apparently, G-Mom needed to hear that too. 😂

I also made different choices about what I gave to different grandchildren this year.

And that brought me face-to-face with another old belief: Everything has to be exactly equal or somebody might be upset.

But people are different. Relationships are different. Circumstances are different.

And I’ve realized that fair doesn’t always mean identical.

What If Somebody Gets Mad?

And there it was.

The question I’ve spent a significant portion of my life trying to answer before anyone even asked it.

What if somebody gets mad?

What if someone thinks my decision is unfair?

What if someone misunderstands what I’m doing?

What if somebody tells me I should have done it differently?

I thought about that. Of course I did.

And then I recognized another distinction that is enormously important to me.

Considering how my actions may affect other people is healthy. Allowing the possibility of someone else’s anger to control my decision is not.

And there it is... again.

For much of my life, I tried to anticipate other people’s reactions.

I explained. I accommodated. I tried to prevent misunderstandings before they happened.

Sometimes I changed what I was doing because someone might be upset with me.

I don’t want to live that way anymore.

I can think carefully about a decision.

I can consider the consequences.

I can make sure I’m comfortable with my reasons.

And then I can let other adults have whatever reaction they’re going to have.

Their reaction belongs to them.

We’ve Updated Our Terms and Conditions

And wouldn’t you know it?

This is exactly where the astrology has taken me this week.

Saturday’s Aries Full Moon falls across the part of the chart that connects what we know with what we believe.

And I’ve been writing about one sentence all week: What I know now changes what I believe—and that changes what I’m willing to do.

Or, as I put it in my weekly astrology reading: Sometimes we need to update our terms and conditions. 😂

That’s exactly what September has been about for me.

It doesn’t mean I stopped loving anybody or that I’m slamming doors shut.

In fact, one of the loveliest things that happened this month was watching a door I thought might remain closed begin to open when someone I love reached toward me.

But I’ve learned something from the contrast.

I can welcome someone who genuinely reaches toward me.

I can love someone without chasing them.

I can understand someone’s pain without accepting responsibility for it.

I can stop defending myself when someone demands that I prove my love.

I can give people the freedom to decide what kind of relationship they want with me.

And I can give myself that same freedom.

Maybe that’s what changing the terms and conditions actually looks like. It isn’t necessarily a dramatic declaration. Sometimes it’s simply deciding that I’m not doing that anymore.

I Can Walk My Lane

September began with me needing breathing room. Then breathing itself became a problem. My body made me stop.

And while I was stopped, I began looking at some other things I’d been doing automatically for years.

That’s part of what the breathing room was for. I don’t have everything figured out. I don’t know whether any of those letters will change anything.

Maybe I’ll hear from someone. Maybe I won’t.

That’s their lane.

Mine is much simpler. I can love my family. I can remember birthdays. I can send a card. I can answer the phone. I can welcome somebody who walks toward me. I can leave the door open.

But I don’t have to stand in the doorway calling after anybody anymore.

I can walk my lane.

I cannot walk theirs.

The door is open.

They know how to find me.

What they do with that belongs to them.

And apparently, somewhere between needing breathing room and finally getting enough of it, I updated my terms and conditions. 😂

💕 Faye