I've been thinking a lot about limitations lately. After completing the cross country hug journey, many people offered up their hopes and dreams with the follow up of, "I can't." The limitations included but were not limited to:
Having young kids at home Unable to take time off work An expectation that a spouse wouldn't be on board with it (before they were even asked) Not having enough money It's too much (what does that even mean?) I get it. I was almost trapped by my limitations (and at times I still fall prey to them), but one emotional conversation with my father at the age of 26 set me straight. At that age, I found myself in an incredibly privileged life. A husband who loved me, a beautiful house in a prominent CT town, a boat on Candlewood lake, a closet full of designer clothes and regular luxury vacations were what my life consisted of. I was in unfamiliar territory. Growing up my life was very limited, my closet consisted of hand me downs and generous gifts from friends. The school shopping spree funded by my grandmother was a highlight of my year. Other than one trip to Disney World, all vacations were spent in Maine visiting my great-grandmother and cousins. My parents were divorced and while they smothered us with love, there was little else to give. I felt guilty for my material desires and desire for a more abundant life. That guilt compounded with each passing year especially as my abundance grew. I was no smarter or more capable than my Dad. Why did I get to have more than him? Was I even allowed to enjoy this new lifestyle? Shouldn't I be more humble? With each lavish trip, I felt more and more ashamed of the pleasure it brought me. The guilt and shame ate away at me. I invited Dad to have coffee with me one day; I needed to confess my sins and absolve myself of the guilt I felt. We met at a local Dunkin Donuts mid-morning. Fittingly, the electricity was out from the dark storm surrounding us. We grabbed a few waters and sat at a dim table in the corner. Placing my face in my hands I confessed my guilt as tears streamed down my face. I confessed my pain in having so much more than him and not being any more deserving than he was. I admitted my confusion; wondering why life was working out so well for me when he spent so much time struggling. He chuckled as he does when he finds me being silly. "Do you think I couldn't have chosen the life you have? I made different choices. It was more important to me to be at every sports event and recital than work a job that kept me from attending these important events in your life. I chose to put you and your sisters first. And, I don't regret a thing. The only thing I would regret is if you don't take advantage of and enjoy these opportunities in your life." My eyes grew wide. My tears of shame shifted to tears of relief. He gave me the permission I so desperately needed to enjoy the life I desired. And, a lightbulb went off in my head. It all comes down to choices. Of course, I had already been exercising these choices, in who I married, in believing I could heal from MS, in taking advantage of the freedom and abundance available to me and my husband before having children. So, when I got the nudge to hug strangers for a year, rather than letting my very young children limit my ability to do it, I brought them with me. Rather than let my obligations as a wife and mother limit my ability to do it, I determined how I could use my obligations to leverage my success. When I got the nudge to do the month-long cross country hug journey, rather than letting my financial obligations limit me, I got super creative to leverage what I did have. Rather than let my family obligations limit me, I asked my husband and boys for support. Rather than let my controlling ways limit my ability to pursue this dream, I expanded my belief of what was possible. Nowadays, when obligations threaten to overwhelm me, I remember the conversation I had with Dad. What choice do I want to make in that moment? Sometimes, it's to take a deep breath and continue attacking my obligations. Making that choice alleviates the sense of limitation and suffering. Most times I choose play instead.
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AuthorMelinda Lee is a mom of two adolescent boys, a devout student of all things spiritual, a recovering perfectionist, and immensely fascinated with achieving the unachievable. Currently writing a memoir about hugging strangers. Archives
February 2023
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