Personal breakthrough yesterday. I was finally able to open up, in a grown up dialogue kind of fashion with my grown daughter about what happened with my parents (her grandparents) during my childhood. Even telling her about this blog was difficult. Once I upload this entry, I will share with her the link to read for the first time. My hope is that she will see how I was able to find the power to heal myself within myself by taking time to myself and research who I was in order to learn how to become who I will be. The most difficult part was starting the discussion. I had been trained to shut up, be silent and say nothing my entire life. I was called “mouth” and shamed for speaking truth during my entire existence with my parents. Being forthright, honest and open about our life experience wasn’t my youthful experience. Leaving young, setting out on my own to fly a solo existence gave me an opportunity to decide that openness was creed. That honesty wasn’t a boogeyman at all but in fact Truth would become Savior to my soul. My Mom had embraced religion and the concept of forgiveness before I left for the Air Force. Forgiveness and the art of forgiving is a concept rooted in religion, dictated by men for the purpose of glossing over personal crimes against humanity. Forgiveness is not a concept that includes contrition, penitence and remorse. Forgiveness is bullish. It’s abrasive and simply forces the wounded to cry “Uncle” as their arm is twisted behind their back to forget the crimes perpetuated against them. True forgiveness is actually for self. With forgiveness of self comes confession. The ability to vocalize to another the crimes that were perpetuated or experienced at the hand off another. Mom wanted forgiveness but she didn’t want to confess, or be contrite, or make amends. She only wanted forgiveness for being “sick”. Well I get “sick” too. I cry too. I also scream, yell and throw tantrums. At times I feel as though I’m not myself and something else has taken over. However, when that happens, I own my shit. It’s still MY Body and I’m responsible for myself. I have found the power, the will and the sheer magic within myself to see myself for who I am and to heal those parts of myself that unseen by others. Telling my daughter about what my mother (and father) had done to me as a child was a big first step in generational healing. Their secrets are no longer hidden. Yesterday I had an opportunity to spend some beautiful time with my beautiful daughter in a beautiful place and tell some of the horrors of my childhood. It’s impossible to tell it all or write it all down. I didn’t want to make my children do the heavy lifting of my healing as my parents tried to make me do with my mother. My mother sat down and simply read her bible and expected to be forgiven. That was all she knew. That was all she was ever going to know. There wouldn’t be more to her healing than that. She would get to the cross and stop. I’m not stopping at the cross. I passed the cross. I kept going. I didn’t sit down to stop. I might, from time to time sit to rest but until breath leaves my body I will keep going. I don’t wish to pass onto my future generations a legacy of sickness and brokenness. The legacy I and my daughter will leave this planet is one of healing and wellness. I’m grateful for the opportunity to be heard, to be loved, to be felt and to be acknowledged and seen for who I am. I’m aware as I grow older than I resemble my mother greatly. This is superficial and an appearance thing only. For I am not her and she was nothing like me. It’s perhaps the reason we clashed the most. We were different. And for this, I am grateful.
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AuthorMarihemp is a Mystic Archives
January 2024
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