This week I went on The Edgewalk 1168 feet above Toronto outside the roof of the CN Tower. It sounds terrifying. But, the fear is gone.

I don’t know when my fears left my body, but the fear of the unknown has been taken over by joy and love and other gushy emotions I forgot I had. It looks like the key to happiness might be just putting yourself out there, being uncomfortable and working through it. Brene Brown says we need the courage to be imperfect, the compassion to be kind to ourselves, and to let go of who we think we should be to be who we are. I’m going to put a healed checkmark right there beside my face on my passport. So what if it is technically defiling a government document, I am healed dammit.

Well at least for the moment. This moment I am giving myself permission to feel wonderful about the future.

Healing was supposed to be about not falling into depression again (and falling off that roof). That will be a lovely side benefit if that will be the case. The healing though is more about love and forgiveness. Love myself through whatever comes my way, and forgive myself for putting it in my damn way, to begin with.

There is other forgiveness I have withheld too. I have verbally forgiven my mother for the divorce and the lifetime of abandonment issues. It is not her fault. She was looking out for her own wellbeing. Now I understand, and I can begin to forgive fully and move forward.

I have been laying blame on the world around me for far too long. I need to absolve myself for that, learn, and look forward. I have passed the hardest part, the fear, and walked along the edge of the world to come full circle back to me. Clarity will guide me to the healing I need.

The healing I deserve.

I don’t remember a time in my life when I felt deserving. That is an unfortunate side-effect of my childhood (but cannot be blamed on it–I’m trying to be enlightened, but it will take time). Who did I think I was to assume I was the most undeserving person navigating this planet? Did I really think I was the epicentre of undeservingness? What hogswallop that is. I’d cry about it, but I think it is more laughable. Maybe the word hogswallop–that autocorrect tells me is not a word–has something to do with the laughter.

I am deserving. We all are. Worthy of living who we are and spending time finding out who that is. Damn, is this a mid-life crisis year after all? Or should it be renamed a mid-life awakening? I don’t feel in crisis. I feel like a kid excited for her first day of school. Terrified of what is on the other side of that door, but excited at the prospect of starting something new, and learning more than I know today about myself and the world. Maybe this time I’ll pay attention in all the classes.

Check out the video: Peeking Over The Abyss



Kristine Laco shares the stories we all have with a splash of sarcasm, a pinch of bitch and a ton of wine at Adulting In Progress dot com. Her middle finger is her favourite and she lives by the motto that if you are not yelling at your kids, you are not spending enough time with them. She takes selfies at the gyno. Taco Tuesday is her gospel. Reality TV is real folks. She is making turning 50 a job because she doesn't have one.

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