So, it’s only a little awkward when your child asks your father why he was mean and angry when mommy was little. .

And by “A little Awkward”, I mean – “Totally, Completely, I’d rather be anywhere fucking else than in this spot, Awkward. ”

madeitawkward

I recently made a trip back home to see my family. It was the first one in 2 years, but the longest I had ever been away from “home” and from seeing my mom. I had spent the majority of the previous 10 avoiding contact with my father, and only in the last 1 that I felt I had reached a security in forgiveness and an understanding of circumstance. Not to mention all of the personal changes I have implemented in the last 2 years that have been vital to my healing journey, all on display for my family to see.  This was a big trip for me.

And It was a great trip, actually. For the first time, ever, I did  not need them to be any different than who they were. Has anything changed there? No. There is a pocket of pain there that is held static by all of the old stories we tell ourselves about our experiences. That hasn’t changed. Yet.

I did, though.

I became an open book as a parent. Years ago, I was “mean and angry” because of my pain. My child was becoming angry and when I could see the full timeline – my explanations started with my father and how he never learned how to deal with his big emotions and that he was always mad when I was growing up. As I continued healing, the focus was less on my father and more on me because I was understanding: I was not becoming my father – my father was more like me: struggling to become beyond what we first learned of our self – and the deep, deep, deep pain of having an imprinted reflection of trauma as our first mirror. That is what we share. That is what I understand. That is what I forgive in my father and in myself. This is what I am healing.

But that part hasn’t been communicated clearly with my son and he apparently wanted his own answers. Secretly, I had been afraid of this. So I know I brought this experience to myself. But in that moment, while I did dissolve into tears, I explained my right to perceive what I perceived as a child and the right of my child to know that my anger was not about him, but in response to a pattern set long, long ago. And, silently, I defended the right of my child to ask any damn question he wants. This is how we learn.

I had had visions of having a COMPLETE discussion with my father on this trip. I wanted “Completion” Somewhere, but listened to my guidance system on what to do. And I knew as I tried to smash in a small one on the last day that I was visiting, that these conversations are best had in pieces, after all. Instead of “having something to say” – I enjoyed my time. I was able to love them for just being who they were and I was able to have small, heartfelt conversations with both of my parents that were framed in love and acceptance.

I can accept them completely, now, because I am not attached to their perception of me (or the world) as my reality. I’ve learned to create my own full of love, understanding, compassion and acceptance for myself – and through that, I have more and more to share with them – on terms that we all can agree on.

This trip, if nothing else, allowed me to trust myself and my guidance system more and more – the results of my path, the light I see and feel in myself cannot steer me in a wrong direction because I do not have to follow the shadows anymore to know who I am.

I can be the parent who is open with her child about emotions and be secure in our right to feel them. I can be the parent who is open about having to learn how to allow emotions in others.

I can be openly healing and exposed to the wounds of others and still be okay.

And So Can You. Know that Our individual healing effects the whole of the family in intricate ways that we are never in control of; be strong in your truth and love yourself completely and you won’t have to try to heal anybody else, it is but a natural, side effect of our own Healing.

Sending you lots of love and light for your own journeys,

Rose.

 

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