What if I’d have understood?

No matter...I understand now

It’s going to be another warm September day in the Midwest. Combine that with a prompt for an afternoon call…My first day…and I time travel back 14 or 15 years. A lot of emotion played out on a patch of sunbaked asphalt…and the only reality of the event I have to share is mine.

What fascinates and excites me is that in the years between skinned knees, tears, yelling, shame, and gossiping—and this dark 5:40 am morning—is that I’ve grown into a different person. I’m no longer the timid waif who took a verbal beating from another adult on one of my first days as a kindergarten assistant.

My crime?
I’d let the children run from the school building to the playground equipment.

Twenty plus children released from their straight line and quiet mouths raced like thirsty water buffaloes to a water hole. Unfortunately, legs, limbs, and/or laces tangled and one five-year-old’s knees kissed the ground.

She wailed.
I soothed.
The matriarch of the playground appeared out of nowhere to assess the situation and make it clear where I’d gone off the rails.

“You never let them run to the equipment! They must stay in a line and YOU WALK THEM OVER.”

Oh! The stories I was telling myself.
What stories was she telling herself?

Instead of seeing reality—a child fell and skinned her knees…get her to the nurse for some band-aids and enjoy the rest of recess—I felt mistreated. I stewed. My runaway emotional thoughts created more stories about me and the matriarch. I carried that incident with me for the remainder of my five year relationship with her.

What a waste of time and energy—and yet, that five minute experience became a building block in the wall of New Gail.

Since then I’ve been gifted tools for utilizing self-awareness and presence. My feelings and emotions are no longer the boss of me. To have let go of life’s roller coaster of twists, turns, ups, and downs is liberating.

I’m free.

If somebody upsets my apple cart, it’s my job to pick up the apples and find a better spot for the cart.

And…if there are any bruised apples, I might as well clean them up and make a pie.