By Joan Doyle
Striding down the road away from the house, I was angry. Justin was late; he’d said he wanted to go walking right after work, before it got dark. The light was fading and while waiting twenty five minutes, not even a call had come in explanation. I could not call him as he keeps his phone turned off while at work. I’d prepared a salad for us, for after the walk, and I had worked hard all day too. It seemed I was the only one caring about our evening’s plans.
We were not long moved in together at this stage and we were still working out our routines. I knew he was probably just delayed by a last-minute task at work but I felt let down, ignored and forgotten–however irrational that might be. I knew I was over-reacting as Justin is reliable, communicative and very considerate, yet I was enraged and couldn’t seem to help it. If he showed up then I would probably be silent and sullen and our evening would be ruined.
All I could do was walk, and walk, hoping I would calm to a rational state. Even understanding why I could be annoyed, I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so deeply hurt. On top of that I was making him into a villain–thoughtless, uncaring and self-absorbed. I needed a talk with myself.
My arms swinging, I reminded myself of Justin’s good points, his past loving gestures and kind deeds. It was having little effect. It seems I wanted to be mad; it felt justified somehow. I could not let go of it and I wanted to hurt him back. Let him find the house empty when he gets home and wonder where I am! I must have walked a mile at this point and I stopped to sit on a wall, catching my breath. Sitting there I silently begged to have these uncomfortable emotions taken away from me. My cell phone rang. It was Justin. He was on his way home; he’d been delayed at work and wished he was walking with me. Without speaking of my feelings, I suggested he walk toward me from the house and we would meet.
As soon as I got off the phone I remembered something I’d read. When we have an extreme reaction to some minor slight, ninety-five percent of the emotion is from some ancient hurt. I felt the truth of this statement then, and knew I’d felt let down, ignored and forgotten as a child. Growing up the seventh child of nine, that was not too surprising, but it had had its impact. So what do I do with this knowledge? As I walked very slowly in the direction of home, delaying my meeting with Justin, processing emotion and thought, I could feel the anger gradually replaced by sadness. With the gentleness of the adult I now was, I began to speak softly to that hurt-child Joan, still within me, acknowledging her and saying I was sorry she’d been hurt. With each footstep I felt lighter, and soon I knew I could talk to Justin now, calmly and without accusation. His actions may have triggered my feelings but he was not responsible for them. I began to look forward to seeing him, and when I saw his distant silhouette in the dimming light my heart filled with love.
I knew he wanted to walk with me, I knew he meant me no harm. As we came together and he turned to walk in the same direction as me, I took his hand. At that same moment I saw something shining on the sidewalk. With delight I found it was a quarter with the message, “In God We Trust,” and knew this solitary walk was what I had needed.
Having taken responsibility for my emotions, finding their true source and worked with myself in gentle loving kindness, I was now free to see the truth of the current situation. As I examined the shiny coin in my hand I noticed the word Liberty, and thought, “the truth will set you free.” The found coin confirmed this for me; I was on the right path to freedom and love in the self-reflection I had done. If we are caught up in old emotion we relive the past, no matter what the present looks like. In releasing it we are free to be in the present and fully present, which opens so many more possibilities of new and more won-derful life experiences. I like being free.