Tag: Healing

Unseen Perfection of Life

I don’t want to fight against the beauty of life anymore.  I want to give in to all it asks of me.  Swelling like a song from inside my soul all the various hues and tones.  I’ve known insanity, I’ve witnessed death.  I’ve felt my heart stop beating in my chest.  I know a mother’s sorrow.  I know defeat.  I know what it’s like to be broken and brought to my knees.

I fought against it all.  Trying to push it away.  “That’s not what I want.” I said to life and life disagreed.  The more I said no, the more it gave.  Until a day came where my resistance gave way.

I became tired of trying to control my life.  Of wishing for other than what it was.  When was I going to be allowed to be happy?  Crises after crises erupting non-stop from the others in my life, nearly rendering my rule following and penchant for responsibility useless.  Toppling again and again my carefully laid plans.

I decided to stop running.  I seemed to be missing a point.  Something was missing in my life.  But what?

The ‘what’ ended up being love.

So I turned back around and started marching straight back to my heart.  It was there that I gained the ability to be able to see in the dark.  Seeing what it all really means.

There is an inexplicable beauty in the perfection of life.

From that place, all of life is extraordinary and beautiful.  Each of you perfect.  Making mistakes as anyone who is trying to learn something does.  Eventually everyone will figure it all out and all we’re seeing in any given moment is where someone is in their own unique learning process.  It does not define them wholly.  It is not their everything.

So I don’t want to fight against life, against myself, anymore.  All of it is in some way in support of my greater good.  As soon as I’ve truly learned something, I no longer experience it.  If it happens again, then there is still something more for me to learn, even if it is just to look at it from another perspective and shift my feeling about how it.

This gives me the courage to face my life and whatever is happening.  To not play it so safe and to take more risks.  Staying open to my heart even during times of darkness allows me to continue experiencing life as beautiful . . . making me no longer feel like I need to try and prevent anything bad from happening . . . taking away my need to try and control things that are beyond my control.

Resetting My Inner Mother and Father

In my previous post I was focused on Mother and today I feel a focus towards Father, realizing now that they are the male/female aspects within me trying to reconcile.  It’s less about what my biological mother and father did or didn’t do in my life, and more about how I feel about those concepts within me.

I can’t change other people.  I can’t change who my parents were or are.  They have their own lives and journeys, their own hearts and passions, as well as their own pain and lessons to learn that have absolutely nothing to do with me.

Plus, while I’m blaming or focused on them for what I’m feeling inside (whether consciously or not), it only serves to leave me feeling powerless, you know?  It then sets up unrealistic expectations in me to come up with the right words to explain to them how they affected me and then some sort of fantasy “oh my god, I had no idea, I’m so sorry!” revelation on their part and then you know, the fanfare reconciliation and we all live happily ever after.

Except that’s not likely to ever happen.  So then what do I do with these feelings I have inside of me?  What do I do with the imbalance and upset that, at least on the surface, seems to stem from my interactions while growing up with them?

It’s occurred to me that how I personally see my parents, plays a big part in how I see and treat the male/female in me.  The male side barking orders, being demanding, scaring the living daylights out of me.  But also being the side of me that is disciplined, hard working, and really strong when facing challenges in life.

My female side sacrifices herself and her feelings to the demanding male side of me.  “Stop crying.  Get over it.  Move on.”  So she gets left feeling neglected and unloved by the male side of me.  But male side of me is just trying to make sure we survive and in that there’s no room or time for tears or anything girly.  But without my female side, there is no softness, love, or joy in my life.  Just relentless responsibility and nothing to look forward to or making life worth all the grief.

Are these echoes of my parents?  To some degree, I think yes.  But I am starting to suspect that it’s more to do with how I experienced them and what makes up me as an individual, than it does about how they actually were.  At least in how it relates and matters to my own personal healing.  There were legitimate, not okay things that took place in my childhood.  I’m not excusing that, but right now healing is more important to me than blaming.  It’s long since happened and it’s just time to move on, you know?

As mentioned in my previous post, when I was younger, I had a type of surrogate mother that I found within me and called upon to help me deal with my mom being emotionally absent.  I don’t know what to call her really.  Is she my higher self?  The Great Mother?  An angel?  I’m not sure, but what she showed me is another way of being a woman.  A way to break the family cycle.  A way to change my fate.

And if I can do it with the mother figure in me, then why not the father figure in me?  Why not balance that shit out?

So I’ve been trying it out, and it’s like pure magic.  I’m so ready to let go of the past and move on, that it feels like liquid gold to me.  Yes, I can overwrite the genetic male/female that I was programmed with and start over, start fresh.  Wipe the slate clean and try again.

I feel the father figure in me letting me know that I can rest, I can relax now.  He’s going to take good care of me from now on.  I don’t have to try so hard anymore.  I can let go of all of the burden and heartache I’ve been carrying through life, because he’s here now.  I can stop working myself into a frenzy and burning myself out, thinking I have to do it all.

He feels bigger than me, stronger than me.  I trust him.  He’s not human, he’s something more than that and so it makes it easier for me to feel trust in that part of myself again.

But I don’t just feel him alone, I feel my mother figure with him too.  In union.  Both warm and glowing and shining solidarity and security down on me.  Spreading and sinking into me that everything is going to be okay.  It’s really okay.

It’s a little disorienting, shifting perspective like this.  It’s also a great relief to find that I don’t have to wait for others to be okay before I can find a way to be okay in myself.  I like that.  It makes me feel more open and empowered.  Like I got this.

Kitties in Sunshine Mar 2017
A rare sighting of my girl kitty (Vixen- the one acting like she’s at the beach sunbathing) and boy kitty (Gir- pretending to not love this) cuddling together.

I Remember Her

“I remember her . . . I remember her . . . I remember her so well . . . “ the lyrics from a recent Ingrid Michaelson playing sweetly, solemnly in my mind.  A song of her mother.  Thoughts of my own mother being painful, I switched the meaning to something I could accept so that I could keep listening to and enjoying the comfort the song brought me.  Softly swimming around a deep sorrow in me that wants to be okay again.

Surrendering to the siren song of the chorus, letting it carry me past my pain, I did start to remember something.  The young girl in me surfacing, singing the song for me, bringing with it the vivid fluid moving story of her feelings through me like a movie projector.  Her way of sharing her heart stories with me.

I began to remember my surrogate mother.  I could find her inside me.  Whenever I was alone, lost, frightened, confused I would turn inward and call to her with my feelings and heart and there she would be.  I never had a name for her, only knowing her by the distinct signature of feelings I felt whenever she was nearby.  She supplied me with what my human mom was unable to.

Until the day came that it was time for me to grow up and become my own woman.  When I began to lose the connection to her, I became more aware of my biological mom.  It was time to learn about the human part of me.  Over the years I watched as my mom struggled to understand life.

Emotionally distant.  Her inner dialogues, arguments drowning out anyone outside of her.  Lost in herself while simultaneously neglecting herself.  Always focused on everyone outside of her while never really seeing anyone else but herself.  Not realizing that while she blamed everyone outside of her, that she was really fighting different aspects of herself.  There is no room in her for anyone else to exist.  She is isolated and alone in a world of her own making.

It took me decades before I understood that I didn’t really exist to her.  That she saw and took everything I did as being how she would have saw and done that same thing.  Anything outside of her personal world went out of her spectrum of sight and became invisible or distorted and twisted until it came back into view for her . . . never looking as it was originally meant.  Making it impossible for me to reach or help her.

It was a big blow to me to when I finally realized that I wasn’t going to be able to help her.  That my choices had boiled down to either keeping her in my life and suffer, or let go and see if I couldn’t find my own happiness.  The danger being that if I didn’t start helping myself, that I would become her.

So I went my own way.  She didn’t and still doesn’t understand.  I spent years trying to explain it, but over and over she only saw a distorted version of what I said.  In her world, for someone to go away means that they don’t love you, and maybe never did.  She doesn’t understand my world where someone going away has nothing to do with whether they love someone or not.

“I remember her . . . “ I initially felt this song and remembered my surrogate unseen mother.  Once again bringing me the comfort that she once did when I was a young girl.  She’s still there after all this time.  Coming full circle.  Coming back home after so much drama and adventure in the human world.  Understanding myself and the world in ways I was unable to comprehend as a child.

When I am with her, my heart becomes big enough to be able to face the pain I feel in relation to my human mother.  Pain I wouldn’t be able to handle otherwise.

Just how much I love her.  How angry I am at her for not loving herself enough to be able to be there for me how I needed her to.  No, not anger.  It’s much deeper than that.  Deep wide-mouth sobbing heartbreak.  How much I needed her to be bigger and stronger than me.  How much I had needed her to be the adult in the relationship.  That I’m forced to go through life without her.  On the surface it looks like it’s me who isn’t giving her a choice about our relationship, but in reality it is her that gave me no real choice.  Forcing me to choose between her or myself.

I mean, what kind of choice is that?  Basically saying that one of us has to die.

I feel hurt because she chose death and left me alone in life.  I’ve been trying to make it different, but I can’t.  Omg.  I keep trying to save people.  I’m still trying to make it right instead of accepting the reality that I have no control over what other people decide to do.  Jesus.  I’m trying to convince people, who have already decided to die, of how great life is because of how much it hurts that they want to die and go away from me.  Living in a constant threat of being left alone in the world.

But, I have to let them choose what they want.  They have free will.  I wish they could hear me through their pain and feel how much I love them and how much it hurts me to see them like that.  Not for a guilt trip, but so that they are aware at some level that what they do does affect others.  They may not think they matter, but they do matter to me.  That’s how I know they are wrong.  They think nobody loves them, but I love them and I’m not a nobody.  I am someone and my feelings matter too.

I need to sit with this some more and more deeply integrate it.  I have to let them choose, even if it hurts me.  I have to give myself space to mourn that pain in me, so that I am able to come to peace with it.  Which will lighten my burden, giving me the strength to move on and live my own life.  Instead of being tied up in my grief for them and sitting motionless in life myself.