It's not what happens to you, it's what you do with what happened.
My mom gave me that message yesterday.
Recently was the four-year anniversary of her passing. I had forgotten the date. I didn't care to remember. But my sister reached out to me to comfort me and that's how I remembered. My sister who reached out was the 'Golden Child', the one mother favored the most in her later years.
There was a lot of pain in growing up. My beautiful first three to four years, my mother was pleasant, kind, cheerful. I went to babysitters a lot because she was working to support the family while my father was getting his teaching credential. Once my next youngest sister was born, it became apparent that I was no longer the favorite. I was not even a close runner up. I was just another mouth to feed. And my emotions were not welcome in the family.
Both mom and dad were very strict in what was acceptable behavior and what wasn't. Dad was like mom, emotionally distant and controlling of how I was permitted to interact. I had to say 'Father' not 'dad' or 'daddy' when I was very little. I could not say, 'look!' I had to say 'observe'. For someone with training in child development it was surprising what little it did to help me learn to feel and manage my emotions.
I had met someone once who was raised in a broken home, I could sense it was bad, and I shunned them. Little did I know I was looking in a mirror, and in shunning I was not accepting myself.
For years I wondered why I was a 'drunk magnet' and my closest friends and partners were children of alcoholics and some even had to go to foster care for the abuse they were given by their parents.
Like attracts like.
My mother had explosive outbursts of anger. Both she and my father we basically narcissists. I could say, 'narcissists lite'.
For the past four years, especially after the estate settled, I just breathed a huge sigh of relief and was thankful to be able to heal my emotions.
What was strange was that I am sure my mom and Spirit were communication through coincidences on that anniversary of her death. I worked late and it was too late to cook. Our local restaurant had no parking and at the last minute my son got the idea to go to an Italian restaurant. At the restaurant, a song came on, More by Frank Sinatra. It was a theme song of my mother and father's big movie from when they were dating, Mondo Cane.
I started to cry.
Anthony had to distract me to help me compose myself. He came up with a funny story from my childhood.
But song after song--Neil Diamond, this one here, that one there--touched my heart with meaning and significance I understood was from her.
Then the next day we went to the Italian market. We had forgotten to go when we planned during my time off. And even yesterday after my exercise class, I stopped by the store to pick up a gift card for my sister's birthday--and I found an item that could only have been from mom. Mom encouraging me to wear fashion and be confident in it.
You see, when mom brought my sister home from the hospital, it was February. I was four. Dad and his mom were in charge of me but not really. I wanted to wear my favorite dress, yellow sleeveless with black trim with white polka dots. But it was cold. So I put a plain white tee shirt under the dress so I could wear it.
Mom took me aside and was so indignant and angry! She said, 'how can you wear something so ugly on such a big day as this?!'.. Well, I was four and I dressed myself for the first time ever. That's how. It really hurt. I never tried again with that innocence and joy. I made sure things matched and I dressed for comfort.
This year it was my New Year's Resolution to look better. To try. And it's been working. Twice now at work people have said, 'you look nice'. Men look. They offer me rides in the golf cart to get to the door quicker. They also rush to open the door. I see others at work wearing nicer clothes in before they change into their scrubs too.
It didn't matter anymore what mom had said.
But still she reached out.
I was pondering our difficult relationship on the drive home from the discount clothes store. I realized from my crying at the restaurant I really loved my mom. But I was not free to love her because of her angry outbursts and lack of emotional regulation. With her reaching out I can tell now that she loved me too, in her own way.
Then I was struck with the thought, 'she was crazy'.
I could tell mom was okay with that thought.
It helped me to understand what I had been through. And why it had taken so long to heal. It was an emotional/psychological disease on her part that she never got treatment for. It helped me to categorize the unexplainable and impossible to understand experience for a child that I had still be struggling with.
In you life, with the difficult people, especially those closest to you who gave you betrayal, sadness, and pain--you can tell yourself it's not your fault. But this is with your MIND, not your subconscious and your heart. If you relax, do your best, and observe your interactions later--for example with me and the anniversary of mom's death--after doing everything you can to heal and grow and understand the situation of course first....closure can happen. Miracles can happen. And you can be free.
Another example of someone who broke free is Zeena Shreck. I am halfway through an interview she has with Jordan B Peterson. And I thought I had it bad growing up! LOL. It is incredible what the human soul can do. She was the daughter of the founder of the Church of Satan. Now she has left that lifestyle and become a devout Buddhist. It is fascinating.
Ross
There is a meme Carla posted this morning. I asked her to share:
I want her to write the words just in case you can't see the picture on your device.
Many trauma survivors see themselves as likable but not lovable.
Likeable, not lovable.
Needed, but not wanted.
Present, but not included.
Observed, but not seen.
There is a short film I want you to see regarding this. (Ross? I can't find it. May I explain it?) Yes, certainly.
A woman in South Africa was a heroin addict. In her clean living recovery home she needed to go to church. She sang the songs. But wasn't sure about Jesus or the church. She just knew she was going home to more withdrawal symptoms after church. At two in the morning when the symptoms got really bad, a little voice inside her told her to pray. So she went to the icy cold bathroom, got on her knees at the sink, and prayed, 'God, if you are real I really need your help right now'. She then sad a vision of Jesus. What lasted like minutes was actually two hours. She has since recovered and helps others.
What happened while you were looking for the video, Carla?
C: Ross, there are lots of other stories of people meeting Jesus and changing their lives for the better.
R: this is my message--when you are down and saddened by the burdens of life, I want you to keep looking up positive life experiences such as this. And also like Zeena's. And further, not only near death experiences but the stories of loved ones when their dying loved ones experience the 'rally' or 'one last good day' near the end of life. click here for short and read comments <3
These will encourage and uplift you.
clap! clap!
Aloha and Mahalos,
Namaste,
Peace,
Ross and Carla
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