As I continue writing my book Mom, Did You Tell Them Who You Are?, I’m constantly reminded of who I really am.I am a fierce woman.I am also afraid at times.I am loving—and yet I can be impatient.I’m funny—and sometimes inappropriate.I exude peace—and still, I wrestle with inner turmoil.I am all of these things, wrapped up together. And day by day, I’m learning to embrace them all.I’ve been practicing how to love the whole of me—not just the shiny, admirable traits, but also the parts I’ve spent years trying to hide or fix. I’m learning to extend grace to myself. But in doing so, I’m also beginning to see the contradiction: how can I offer myself so much love and forgiveness, and yet be quick to judge others? That kind of hypocrisy humbles me.I’m grateful to notice this within myself—not to shame myself, but to grow. If I truly want peace in my life, I have to practice peace. Not just preach it, not just write about it, but live it. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when I think I’m right.Lately, I’ve been asking myself some hard questions:Why do I feel the need to tell others how they should think, act, or feel?Why do I get pulled into arguments online or feel the urge to prove my point?Why am I so willing to sacrifice my peace just to be “right”?The truth is, when I focus on others—what they’re doing or not doing—I take the focus off of myself. My ego wants to control. It wants to be validated. It whispers lies like, “If I ignore my husband, he’ll try harder to fix things for me,” or “If I withhold love, I’ll get what I want.”But I’ve done enough work to recognize manipulation when it creeps in. And while recognizing it doesn’t always stop me from falling into the pattern, it gives me a choice. When I know better, I get to practice doing better.Self-discovery is a powerful, often painful journey. It’s beautiful when I take full responsibility for my actions. And it’s brutal when I see myself clearly and still choose control over connection. But I’m human. I won’t always get it right. And that’s okay. What matters is that I keep showing up, learning, and trying again.What I’m realizing is this: If I can forgive myself for my mistakes, I must learn to extend that same grace to others. If I expect progress, not perfection, from myself—why do I hold others to a different standard?As I wrote these words, I received a phone call from someone struggling in a long-term relationship. She’s been lied to and betrayed for over a decade. Despite therapy, forgiveness, and countless second chances, nothing has changed. Her heart is heavy with disappointment.I shared a piece of my story with her—not from a place of superiority, but from deep experience. There came a point in my life when I had to choose me—not because I was better than anyone else, but because my life depended on it.I told her: You cannot change another person. You can only change you. If forgiveness becomes a one-way street, and peace continues to elude you, it’s time to ask different questions.Forgiveness doesn’t mean we have to sit at the same table or pretend everything is okay. It means I will no longer allow someone else’s behavior to own my peace or dictate my worth. I don’t need to carry what isn’t mine.I can't change you. But I can—and will—change me.Thank you, God.
