I am a grateful woman. I stand in a pool of deep, wide, rippling gratitude.
I am nearly toppled by this realization, yet I stand tall with a smile on my face and in my heart. I know this! I have value to bring to my relationships and I do—I bring it! I have some skill. Not so much skill, really, as complete and utter willingness and commitment to speak listen give receive love and be loved with generosity with responsibility with honesty with humor with lightness of being.
So so so so totally different from the woman I was. I am free of so much of what bound me to my misery.
I release my attachments to bitterness to self-pity to blame. I release my mother’s pain and my father’s rage. I release my disappointments and how I took them in and made them be about me—about how I didn’t measure up.
In the light of my lover’s eyes, in the sweet sounds of her words of recognition and acceptance, in the warm caress of her arms around me of her hand on my heart, in our tears, I am stripped of the heavy weights that locked me in. I am freed. I am blessed.
I am grateful.
