Riding my high horse, reality falls away.

Last night my daughters and I had an altercation. I had forgotten my wallet at home and phoned to ask if they would drop it off for me downtown on their way out for dinner. I desperately needed it as I was already parked in a downtown parkade before I realized I didn't have my wallet with me. Parking downtown is worth a king's ransom -- and I didn't think just my smile was going to get me out of the parkade.

We'll be late for taking dad out to dinner for his birthday, they cried. Without missing a stride, I climbed up on my high horse and told them that it was never convenient for me to drop everything and rescue them from some predicament such as leaving vital homework at home or locking themselves out of the house or car. They could call their father and tell him they'd be half an hour late, I suggested.

In the end, I borrowed money from the girlfriend I was meeting up with and I got home.

In sorting out my feelings about what went on I realized that I forgot the most important component of Speak my truth -- stay unattached to the outcome. I wanted my daughters to do what I asked. In my disappointment that they were unwilling to be late for dinner with their father, all sorts of emotions got tied up in my feelings.

Like, the little voice that says, ha! see, they won't do anything to upset their father, it's okay to upset you.

See! You don't mean anything.

Ha! You do everything for them and they can't do this little thing for you. How ungrateful is that!

Ha! Haven't you taught them anything? You are a terrible mother!

And underlying all those voices is the big voice of self-condemnation spurring them on. That unspoken but ever present core tape whose sibilant whisper rocks me into disarray whenever I let go of my truth. -- SEE! it whispers. You're not worthy!

It never ceases to amaze me how a small, insignificant event can let loose the furies of self-denigration.

Ultimately, my daughters being unable to bring me my wallet has nothing to do with my self-worth. Yet, as I sat in Devonian Gardens waiting for my girlfriend I felt the tears prick at the back of my eyes. I felt my mood deflate as I watched the Koi float lazily through the waters of the pond in front of me. They had no where to go. Nothing to do. No direction. No meaning. No purpose to their lives.

With the rapidity of the swish of a Koi's tail fin propelling it across the pond to grab a morsel of food dropped onto the water's surface, the victim awakens and I succumb to the siren's call.

Fat worthless fish. Just like me.

In that moment of hanging suspended between reality and the thrall of the abyss opening up before me, I felt the pull of history, of time past, time future, time eternal calling me over the edge of my reality today. I felt the slithering tendrils of the victim's voice wrapping itself around my thinking, pulling me into the depths of darkness. Lulling me to sleep with its sibilant insistance that I do not count. I do not make a difference. I am not worthy.

The tears eased their way to the surface as I desperately tried to bulldoze them back behind the lids of my eyes. I do not cry in public.

And then I breathed. I pulled out my notebook and began to write about what I was feeling, what I was thinking. What I was doing.

Giving up responsibility for myself. Holding someone else accountable for fixing my mistakes.

I asked my daughters to change their plans to accomodate my mistake. I left my wallet at home. That is my responsiblity -- but wait, the victim whispers -- you were buying paper for the printer so they could type out essays and things for school. You stuck your wallet in the bag and forgot to put it back in your purse. Everyone makes mistakes. They should help you out. Look at all the times you've done it for them!

Yes. I have done things for them. My choice. And there have been occassions where I could not accomodate their requests. And, there have been many times they've done things for me.

I am responsible for me. I left my wallet at home and got angry when someone else wouldn't fix it for me. In the process, I created discord in my world. I chose the path away from harmony and vehemently defended my right to have my daughters do what I wanted, regardless of the inconvenience to them.

My bad behaviour is my responsibility. I owe them an apology.

And I owe myself one too.

I forgot to take care of me. To be responsible for myself. To speak my truth and stay unattached to the outcome.

I knew all along that I could borrow money from my girlfriend and get my car out of the garage. But I wanted to make a point with my daughters. I wanted to use my ill-humour as a means of demonstrating to them -- see, after all I do for you, you do nothing for me. Somewhere buried deep, when I realized my wallet was missing, I believe there was that little saboteur doing his Rumplestiltskin dance, as he sang, "Ask them. Ask them. Set them up for failure. You know they've got dinner with their dad. You know it's rush hour and they won't be able to get to you and to dinner on time. Make an unreasonable request so they can fail and you can prove once again -- nobody loves you."

I was my problem and in that process I created a big problem for all of us.

I breathe. I dismount off my high horse.

In being human, in accepting that tomorrow isn't good enough, today counts, I embrace what it means for me to love myself, exactly the way I am. Somebody does love me! I do. And I know my daughters do too. I'm okay.

I messed up. Not the end of the world. Another opportunity to grow and to apologize and to get real with who I am today.

Perfectly human in all my imperfections.

For today, I'll carrying on with loving myself, just the way I am. And I'll put my wallet back in my purse so I don't forget it when I go out later to shop.