The other day I shared some of the experiences that occurred with my mother with a friend. I should point out that my “friend” is a reader that I trust and call often. And, after talking with her through the years, it feels appropriate to call her “friend”. We were talking about my sister; I’d asked her when she felt the tension between the two of us would subside. As we talked, the subject my mother arose. And, well, the only way to describe her response was shock.
Sometimes we forget how much has occurred in our lives. We see ourselves in the vacuum of “today” and overlook how many roads we’ve traveled to get to the moment where we stand right now. Like many, I am a survivor. Rape was first attempted on me at the age of eight, but the molesting coercion ensued for about three months. A woman who worked part-time at my school as a Learning Specialist saved me. It’s a day that I have never forgotten. In fact, a few years ago, I found her. She remembered me, and the healing that occurred as we simply sat and talked was intense: she said that she, too, had always remembered me. She hugged me and we cried together. I hold an enormous torch in my heart for her.
My mother, on the other hand, does not display these types of qualities; to this day, we don’t interact much. The nicest way to present it is that we are opposites. Trust me when I tell you that being born into a family that you feel disconnected from isn’t easy. In fact, it is likely one of the most difficult blueprints of life. My first memory of our different soul journey’s on the day described above: when, at the age of eight, my school called my mother in alarm upon finding me in an inappropriate embrace with an adult man, she advised them that nothing had happened and instructed them not to call the police. When my mother arrived at my school to find me in the principal’s office instead of inquiring to my wellbeing, she attempted to coax me into saying that nothing happened. But, I knew that it had and I would not comply. I can’t stress enough how much that moment has shaped me; that I was forced, and held myself with honor enough, to speak my truth as a child while collided with the unnerving realization that my mother would not, and could not, protect me. I viewed her differently there forward.
People do many things for all different reasons, but the most basic understanding of psychology helps us know that most abnormal behavior stems from unresolved trauma: Woman that prostitute themselves while their children play in the next room are acting out a trauma. Woman that leave that allow drug dealers to baby their kids without connecting the danger of that environment, and potential, influence on their child, are acting out unresolved traumatic issues. And, women that carry children to term without informing, including, or creating natal bond with their existing children, adult or otherwise, are also acting out whatever familial issues, that lay unresolved within them. It took me a long time to realize that, with the story above and others, my mother was no different.
It took an equal amount of time to for me understand the aftermath and long-term effects such incidences can have on the witnessing child, adult or otherwise. I was a highschool senior when I began to explore power in relationships and the methods and modes of survival, along with unpacking the trauma I mention above. The effort it took, and continues to take, to fight depression and self-deprecation is a kin to holding on to a solid tree as the velocity of a storm unearths boulders down a mountain, and just staying in the knowing that it will pass.
It’s a battle. And not the kind that ends. It’s the kind of battle that bleeds into my having to be okay with living apart from my mother and other members of my family. To see that environment as toxic and decide to live my truth within a code that feels right to me – not so much moral, but rather spiritual, and different from them. And, I’ll continue to face this challenge. But, it also drives me to want more. It’s has inspired my love of yoga and meditation, for example, even if by force: they are daily tools that help and remind me to focus and center – they bring me back “in” and ground me.
It is only in the last few years that my mother was able to show emotion and apologize for denying my truth all these years, and, only in a therapist’s office – at my suggestion. All my life I’ve wondered why I was given this mother, why I was placed in this family, who could I have been, given a different and more loving place. And, like you, I searched for these answers. Here’s what I have been told and now believe: the tragic and trauma driven incidents that occurred and I witnessed as I grew up were put in place so that later I would gain empathy and be able to help people. Today I undstand that this part of me creates my in herrent empathy for gay teens. Today, I get it; it is the catalyst for the work I’ve done to help women with children getting out of prison. It’s why I want to begin talking to young girls. Now, it’s crystal clear: it is at the core of my intuitive ability to feel struggles of other.
Through all of it, my guides were there for me, appearing in dreams or visions, telling me it would be ok, showing me good things to come. I heard famed UK psychic astrologer, Michelle Knight, speak once, she has a similar story to mine; she said, she just kept imagining her life as a rainbow after a hard rain… And, cliché as it may sound, that simple image as helped tremendously.
Love and hugs,
(I’ve always loved rainbows).