I met a Boy.

I met a boy.

He was tall and handsome. He had a great sense of humor and sometimes considered himself a bit hard to handle. He was one of those guys that you don’t easily forget. He described himself as “hard on the outside but oh so soft internally.” He had a soft heart, just like his mom.

He lays a lot of blame at his father's feet. He proclaims that his dad did his best; he just didn’t know any better. He learned lots of lessons, some the hard way.

He talks of how his mom carries the world on her shoulders, always caring for everyone else.

Even when she pushed him away, he understood why.

He was hard to handle and knows now that her pushing him away was part of the bigger picture and the plan.

He says effortlessly that he forgives her.

Even though he admits there’s nothing to forgive her for, she loves him unconditionally. He knows this. He just wants his mom to move past the pain of the feelings towards his dad. Just let it be.

As he continued, I could not help but feel his sense of loneliness. He gave up his power when he was lonely. He hung out with the wrong crowd. He did things that he shouldn’t have done. He’s matter-of-fact when talking about taking the wrong path.

Then he says this. “Nicole, can you tell my mom this? I love her and can see that she’s still putting everyone first. It has to stop. She has to say her words, speak her thoughts, and feel her own feelings, not everyone else’s. There are a few avenues ahead of her, not paths, just avenues, and she can turn around on those avenues if they don’t feel right to her. I need her to get out of her way and BE herself again, find her lane, and go with it. She has so much light to give the world, and she can still be bright just because I diminished that light by leaving this Earth! Please ask her to be her brightest light!”

I said these words to this momma in a busting-your-chops kind of way. Those words made her smile while tears streamed down her face, and she wholeheartedly agreed.

He then sings in my ear, “Don’t Stop Believing,” by Journey, to which his mom responds, “I have heard this song so much since he’s gone!”

But it didn’t end there; here’s the ah-ha moment I patiently await.

He continues, “So there’s this feeling that my mom still carries around all my weight. All of the heaviness that is connected to me. All of the guilt of not being able to help me through my pain. I ask her now to release this back to me because it was never hers to take from me in the first place. It all belongs to me, not her; it always has.”

Here’s where the shift happens.

Someone else’s pain is just that, their pain; it’s not ours. We can feel it and shape it to be a part of us and our story, but it is never ours to keep.

Often, we hold on to the pain of/from others so that we have a story to tell and can keep them close to our hearts.

Not only is this selfish to our Soul, but selfish to the person you are holding on to as well, because it’s not your pain to keep.

Allow others, even in Spirit, to relinquish, understand, and learn from their pain.

It’s a process of self-discovery, self-forgiveness, and self-love.

It’s their story.

Let it go.

Create your own story around great memories, not pain.

Note to self: You can travel down the avenue, but know when to turn around.

The pain of others isn’t your path; it’s theirs.

Much Love,

Nicole