Being in a place of peace means owning what is yours. Your inner truth. Meaning if you do something that sooner or later you figure out to have been not attuned to your path, it is up to you to heal it, either with yourself or an other person.
I make lots of mistakes in life. If I hold onto those mistakes without making amends and healing them I am hurting and feeling guilt towards them. If another person is involved in the situation then you are also affecting that person whose reactions can carry resentment and loss of trust.
Walking through life carrying less bagage will have less of an impact. Being conscious of choices and communicating clearly to begin with is an empowering way to live.
Honoring mistakes and ameliorating past behaviors and learning from that experience is a path of enlightenment.
I have a few early childhood memories. One so pronounced today that I found myself ashamed of the pattern that was taught to me. Walking away.
My memory consists of me being in a crib. Standing. Looking down a hallway. I am crying. My mother comes out of a room. I cry more. She doesn’t come to me. She leaves me. She doesn’t return.
This pattern has transformed over the years. As a mom I am a bit more attached, which I believe to be because of the abandonment I faced as a child. Now it has transformed in other relationship issues. When the going gets tough I turn and run. I don’t know how to deal emotionally when things get hard. I give up.
In my practice of being the person I want to be it is hard to face the truth of hurt. Who wants to relive that? I don’t want to run anymore. I want to grow up and face the hard reality with out losing my cool.
This proves to be very difficult. Retraining your brain is really hard work. I can’t give up on myself like so many people in my life have. This is where I face myself and trust in me. I am the only one I have.
I feel guilty saying no. This is a BIG problem. I feel guilty because the reactions of my past demonstrate that if I say no the consequences are, anger towards me, resentment, pulling away from me.
Give freely. Expect nothing. Demands are threatening when you dont get your way.
I want to fulfill and nurture taking care of needs. I am NOT going to endlessly give and sacrifice my health and wellbeing. Call me selfish. Its about damn time that I look towards myself in this way.
Finding someone who will just give endlessly is nearly impossible to find. The only person who will give endlessly to you is…YOU.
Everything is so interconnected it is hard for me to figure out what to write about. Being an extrovert and flying by the seat of your pants while also trying to be organized and flowing ever so slightly towards the middle of the spectrum. I am feeling excellent in this moment of life.
Kids happily throwing water bombs at each other while Dad mans the hose. Working in the garden. Napping in the sun. Enjoying the warmth of the day. This is how I left and came into town to focus on some tasks I don’t always get to take care of and want to be more attentive to. Laundry is washing down at Pete’s.
I am proud to announce that @mouselink and I have purchased an RV! A 1985 Rockwood 26ft Camper. It is not home yet and as soon as it is I will get some pictures up. We will be making lot’s of modifications to it and will upcycle the interior.
As a 35 year old women with an inner child that desires some answers in life, I was drawn to write this.
After a fishing adventure with my son and listening to “You’ll be in my Heart” by Phil Collins, I welled up with tears and thoughts of so many wonderful memories and one main question, Why doesn’t my dad love me any more?
I know that this voice of question stems from my inner child, a hurt little girl needing to understand why someone who gave me life and created positive memories in my early childhood, would turn away a chance at rekindling a connection of shared moments.
Our paths separated deeply in 1990, when my parents separated (for the second time) and my mom was diagnosed with cervical cancer. He was gone, off doing his own thing, checking in when he wanted, which in hindsight meant more mostly positive memories.
Predominantly, during my mothers last days, he was gone. This left his adopted son of 16 years (we share the same mom), me, a 13-year-old, and my 12-year-old sister without a place to call home, sleeping on the floors of our uncle’s house, or an aunt’s couch, not knowing where we would be from one night to the next, or whether our mom would be alive when we woke.
To my knowledge he didn’t visit my mom, and after being married to her for 14 years and raising children together, I feel saddened by this.
The reappearance of my father came after the death of my mother. Due to the law, my sister and I were placed in his custody, and he would obtain money from a life insurance policy until we turned the legal age of 18. He would also take over residence of the house that was owned by him and my mother. I believe this to have enticed him.
After that, the relationship was very controlling. He wanted to keep us home and protected, yet he didn’t take care of us. We did all the caring for him. Washing laundry, keeping house. He barely kept food in the fridge. By the time we were 18, my sister and I barely had a relationship, mostly having lived separately, visiting different friends houses to get the attention (whether positive or negative) that we needed, while Dad was prowling for a new lady.
As I have gotten older, I have looked deeper into this person. Having grown up in hospitals due to polio as a child, having his own mother leave him and his dad on their own, I have learned compassion for him as a hurt child himself, and I can look at him in understanding.
As I listened to the song with my son, going fishing, sharing memories of fishing experiences with my own parent, seeing those joyful moments of my youth, tears rolled down my face, and my son asked “Why? Why doesn’t your dad care about you?” I told him I wish I knew.
The last time I spoke with my dad was about three years ago via email, after I found a new address for him. His response was shocking, and has stopped me from reaching out to him again. We are too different for him to accept me, even though I see a side of him that I love and appreciated, which in turn helped form who I am today.
::phew:: A lot of processing. I am not sure how to release that longing in my heart.
(My brother, dad, me in his shirt, and sister, 1983 I think.)