I feel caught between a rock and a hard place and I have to ask myself why.

A friend just mentioned that there are several links on a popular search engine that basically out us. My heart sank before it began beating as if I was sprinting for the finish line. Only there isn’t an end to your internet history, is there? You can’t simply move on. It won’t let you go. It clings to what you consider the past like an ex clutching old love notes that speak of feelings long gone. It keeps shoving it in your face.

In the past I would have been frantic, flying into what I used to call “Recovery Mode” trying to fix everything that was wrong or broken, but is it? Lately I’ve been reading Pema Chodron and she’s made a huge impact on my thinking. Now before I take that emotional leap toward all the small “what if” places, I mentally sit down and let it all come. The worry. The fear. The panic. The improvised conversations with words that sting and bruise. The dark, wretched places where my child sits in the middle. The anger. The frustration. The pure, unadulterated rage. Doors open… come on in.

When I can see what my mind is fighting up close I realize that it doesn’t have any power over me. I can change the past about as much as I can change people’s feelings about me. Not at all. As I look back at the chicken scratch notes next to me about all the active sites that reflect the truth of our past, I am going to choose to do something that scares me. I am going to throw them all away and not do a single thing.

Are we still running or are we free people?

Do we stand in our truth with all its complexities and still feel whole?

Perhaps the farther I run or frantically try to erase, the more clear our past becomes. The sharper the focus. The bigger the deal. The more power we give away to people who simply don’t have the capacity to understand real life. Real life to me is what resides beneath the banter in the checkout line. Beyond the smile to your postal worker. The simple realities that are kept for those in your inner circle of trustees. Real life is everyone’s truth. Don’t we all have something we’d rather not share?

A recent conversation about the difference between “right to know” and “need to know” floods my brain and my heart slows the pace. We are just people living in this world. People who want to live authentically. Although I protect some details for the sake of my children, I am not afraid of our truth. It’s ours and I am proud of that. It is as much a part of me as the memories I keep closest in my heart. I don’t need to explain them. They just are.