Let it go? Yeah, right.

So, a thing happened this weekend, and my feet have glued themselves in that mental space of rehashing the details, the frustration and the injustice of it all. (Be forewarned, I may use an excessive amount of italics, all-caps and/or exclamation marks today.) It’s a small thing in the grander scheme of things, and I want to move on and let this go, even though it affected me and my kid and, undoubtedly, others who have bigger stakes and more reasons to fight this fight. I even SAID I was letting it go last night as I poured a glass of well-deserved wine and toasted the end of a long day…

But here I am, vague-blogging about it (sorry, not sorry), clearly NOT letting it go, in fact still swirling the events and details and the rational proof around in my mind (I could make a spreadsheet SHOWING I’m right, people!) as if focusing on the problem must lead to the answer.

DH says I need to “let it go.” Frozen’s theme song springs to mind (you’re welcome for that earworm), but then I realize Elsa is actually singing about venting about what’s bottled up inside, so now I’m torn between feeling I need to be mature about the situation (sadly, not my first instinct) or taking the advice of a Disney princess, letting my frustration flag fly, and freezing the crap out of my enemies. But, do I really want to be the one that calls forth the second winter as satisfying as that sounds? Doesn’t doing so just freeze us all in that hard, cold place together?

If not that, what do I want to see happen? I want to be heard. I want an apology for being dismissed. I want amends made for those negatively affected. Will that happen? <shrug> Maybe. Maybe other voices will carry through, dust will settle, and the wrongs will be righted.

And maybe they won’t.

BLERGH. I tell my kids when they find themselves smacking against the same immovable obstacles in life to “be the water.” I tell them if they keep ramming into a problem or situation, it only hurts them and doesn’t change anything, but if we are the water? We flow around life’s obstacles, find the little outlets to get beyond them, wear other problems away little by little over time…

Be the water.

I think I need to take my own advice. (Thanks for letting me talk it out with you. You’re a good listener.) Elsa, my dear, freezing water only holds us in place. But rain? It makes things grow. So, now I’m thinking of the GOOD things about this situation–the people and things that went right and make me feel proud and thankful and excited about the future. These thoughts warm my heart. From that place of happiness, I can hope that kind and nurturing hearts will help those who need to grow–help them learn it’s okay to admit when you don’t have the answers, make a mistake, or are overwhelmed and need help. We’ve all been there. I also hope those of us who felt frustration will remember how hurtful it can feel when others refuse to listen, when they don’t take the time to hear our pain or confusion, so that we learn how to approach future scenarios with compassion and open minds.

Yeah, I want to be THAT water. The good kind. The warm spring rain kind. I don’t want to be an icicle, stuck in place. I want to be the kind of water that grows a d*mned flower! (Okay. Clearly this thawing out may take some time. Send kittens. And wine. I’m almost out.)