Sometimes, I fear for my very sanity and this is one of those times. The reckoning I speak of is dealing, at least partially or finally or somewhat - with the family history, legacy, memories etc that I am the inheritor and fortuitous forgetter of - at least so far....
But little things, little memories, big memories, find me. At the strangest times...the most inopportune times...the most unsettling of times...and in the most bizarre ways. Like now.
Tonight, I am thinking of my grandfather. His legacy. Abusive. Hypocrite. Violent. Pedophile. Disgusting. Master manipulating pusher of fear. Vile. Degrading.
And my father...who used to tell me stories of my grandfather. Stories that he as a forty something year old man at the time was telling a teenage girl who couldn't possibly begin to process it. And so, I processed it the way I process uncomfortable information to this day. By burying it.
The stories my dad told me were of a violent, mean, vengeful, terrifying man. He told me how his father, my grandfather, would stand outside the bathroom window while my aunt (his daughter) showered. This is when they were kids...long before I was born. My dad would tell me how horrifying this was to watch. And how much he hated my grandfather for it. But, why did he watch? And what did he watch? And further, why did he tell me? Why???
The stories I grew up with about my father were of a violent, mean, vengeful and terrifying man. A man who beat my mother every chance he got and who was so good at it, he knew how to do it without getting in trouble. To beat her on the head...not the body, not the face...and the bottoms of her feet. Because they don't bruise easily and there is lots of pain and little proof or damage to show to the police.
To say that I grew up confused is a vastly ridiculous understatement. To say that I am still confused today -the same. The thing is, I have spent my life hiding these things, even from myself. So much so that I can honestly tell you that I am so vaguely aware of enough skeletons in my family closet that I am literally terrified of what will happen if I should ever really start to remember....if I should seek out a means of recovery....or if they just come...as they are starting to.
The catalyst was, of course, my father's death on September 12 of this year. The trip I made home for that was short, but filled me with such dread and fear that I shifted into autopilot and subsequently, walked away relatively unscathed. I don't even think I have cried yet. A few tears of self pity, but none yet for my dad.
So, my fear, my sheer, unadulterated terror at actually somehow finding a way to unblock all that I've spent a lifetime running from....my fear is that I will lose myself and my mind and my footing and slip into either insanity or dreadful, spiteful, horrible, ugly behavior and reactions to my delightful biological lineage.
This is where I usually write something that turns it all around - that magic kumbaya moment...right? Some lesson I have learned that gives me gratitude and makes it all worthwhile and so I can share it with you and maybe it will resonate and maybe in the sharing, it will all have been worth it because I am all healthy and wonderful and whole now, right?
Wrong. Much to my own dismay. Abysmally wrong. I definitely don't have all the answers and being one's own therapist can be enlightening and healing and pretty cool, but complete and total self reliance ...to get through mind alteringly fucked up shit like this, is well - impossible. And is proving to be a bit of an undoing for me.
I left my home at 16 or 17, I don't even remember which anymore - to go and live with my grandmother (after pedophile grandfather was dead)....to get away from my abusive mother. She hated (hates) herself so much that living with her was a toxin. And I so very selfishly walked away and left my two baby brothers with her. Knowing, completely and fully exactly what she was capable of and what she might do to them.
I did that. I loved them with my soul. I did most of their raising till that point. She gave them to me once they were born. I sat up with them in the middle of the night when they were infants and needed to be fed while she slept in the only air conditioned room in the house and forbade me to wake her up. When Clay was born, I was 11. And I did this. When Andy was born, I was 14. And I did this again.
And when I was 16 or 17...I had all I could take and I left them. Left. Them. Behind. With her. I talk a lot about self forgiveness and how it is the key to so many things...and I believe it is. I can't for the life of me figure out how to forgive myself for that. They are different people now. Adults. Still both living at home with my mother in their thirties. And I still dream of them regularly and when I dream, they are sweet, innocent, trusting little boys who think I hung the moon. Oh, my god, I cannot fathom how much I let them down and how much my simple act of selfishness in the guise of self preservation - fucked them up and skewed their view of what is right and wrong and good in the world.
This alone is why I never had children. I feared abandoning or abusing them because it was ingrained in me. This saddens me to depths I haven't even begun to fathom. I generally have no regrets. I regret, with all of my being, not having children.
And still...I am writing about me. What kind of monster am I? All I can think about is how this affected me. And how to find my own peace...and love...and all of the rest. But my brothers...will they ever find it? EVER? My mother - will she? (I am not sure that I care whether she does or not...but I do send her love and energy after a long yoga session in the hopes that all that stuff about love and energy and the universe that I believe in and talk about is true.) My father? Did he?
So, the reckoning... I feel it approaching....with little hints of memories...with certain long, dark periods of self flagellation and doubt.
I know my mother as a violent, malicious abuser.. with her hands or a belt or a switch - but even more damaging - her tongue...her words...her constant rhetoric over the years that I was ugly, bad, unwatned, wrong, a liar, a bitch, a whore (I got this when I was 11 and had no idea what sex was...), a snob, selfish, disgusting, fat....things that still travel with me inside today - no matter what.
I know my father as a violent abuser of both my mother and his second wife....and maybe a pedophile who learned from his father (not with me...that I can remember...but with my stepsister, who he raised.) A man I feared and wanted approval from. A man whose love I could never do enough to earn. And that legacy was to never feel like I was enough for anyone.
I know my grandfather as a sociopath. A man who was revered in the community and church. People always spoke so well of him...but who beat the hell out of his children, probably my grandmother, sexually abused his daughter, her daughters, his sons' daughters...who served as a prison guard for years and liked to come home and tell tales of beating the prisoners. I can't imagine what else he did.
I know many other things that I really don't want to commit to print right now because I'm frankly exhausted from it.
I know myself to be a confused, mixed up woman who once upon a time was a really smart and really strong girl who was going to conquer the world and make a difference. Someone who believes in good, no matter what. Who believes in doing right for the sake of right and not religion. Who believes that peace and love are the answers to any question. (no, not about quantum physics...) Who still sincerely wants to make a difference, but who sometimes can't seem to see around herself well enough to figure out if she has what it takes. Someone who can easily see the good in others and know, with absolute certainty, that if they forgive themselves and surrender to love - then their lives will change.
I'm someone who has been in more than two marriages and who knows her way around a relationship, but who has never, really truly completely surrendered to it and given herself to it. One who admittedly falls in love with everyone just a little bit, but not that much and certainly not enough to go the distance. To be reliable. To be trusted. To be worthy. To not walk away. To surrender to love. To be loved.
I'm also someone who has recently discovered that she does indeed know what love is and once she allowed herself to say fuck it and define it for herself and on her own terms - it all made complete sense and actually manifested itself right before her eyes in the most beautiful and revealing way possible. Real. Raw. Imperfect. Perfect. Logical. Logic defying. Gut level, soul level, all the way level, come what may - this is the kind of love I want level. The details don't matter. The who doesn't matter. The future outcome doesn't matter. The happily ever after isn't necessary. (Highly desired, I'm not an idiot...but not necessary..meaning - it won't make a difference in what I felt or feel, or how I will act or react. It just simply IS.)
So....what next? I dunno. I have three more nights here before I board a plane for the US and get to be with my second family,,,my chosen family...a group of amazing people who literally met me and said "oh, hello - I think you belong over here with us"...and I replied in kind, "yes, yes, you're right...I do". and I love them and am so grateful for them and get so choked up thinking about how they literally changed my life well after my formative years (I met them in my thirties...). To have the universe hand pick a beautiful mother, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews...and say "I don't care how unworthy you think you are, these people love you and you love them and you belong together." My Cosmic kin. My tribe. Words can't do them justice. I can't. I'm humbled and awed by their unconditional love.
(and that does not mean that I am excluding my brothers Andy and Clay or my cousins Karen and Teresa in any way....I know it HAS to suck reading this stuff and feeling like I don't care. The truth is, I just don't know what to do with it. Or how to do it. I've screwed it up so much, I feel like further involvement will just piss all of you off.) I love you, my brothers - deeply and with everything I've got. And I love you, Karen, beautiful cousin of my heart...Sandy, my beautiful sister (step) and Teresa and your beautiful children I don't even know. You freak me out a bit, T, but I know you have a good, solid heart. You just all come from the same broken place I came from and I don't know how to relate or make it better for any of us.)
What I have come to learn and recognize is that I need to at least do the following:
- Be true to myself and to what speaks to my soul....whether that be yoga, running, meditation, reading, exploring, whatever.
- Yoga. Do it. It makes me feel and that makes me fear it...but when I feel and am in that place, everything else is brighter and is more beautiful and makes sense.
- Love - myself. Others. Every minute. Practice. Win. Fail. Do it all over again - no matter what.
- Forgive - myself. Others. Myself again. Repeat every day until my last breath on this planet.
- Find a healing profession for myself...Life coach/ Yoga Instructor? Massage therapist? Nutritionist? Some combination of all these? Reiki/Prana/ Shaman/Healer? It's in there somewhere
- Keep growing. Period.
- Face the monsters and the fear and tell them to fuck off. They don't serve me. I need to hear their lessons and then move on.
- Let go. Of everything. Everyone. Every thought, mindset, fear, bit of anger, self loathing, regret, people, unrequited anythings...and get on with myself and my life.
- Be grateful. Every single fucking beautiful moment for this completely beautiful fucking life. Because it is. And because i am.
- Surrender - whatever that means...I'm still figuring it out...it has to do with acceptance I think - and that means acceptance of everything...like it or not. Things are what they are. People are who they are. We matter, but really - we don't.
- We are all significantly insignificant. And the sooner we understand and modify our lives accordingly, the better. For our own sanity.
- Repeat the Forgive myself part....
Do love yourselves. Do forgive yourselves. And do marvel in the wonder and beauty that is this world and every living being on it.
YOU inspire me every day...and rock my socks the most, and I am grateful.
And I'm on the road to healing...don't worry about me. Walk with me...show me how to do the dance... I am ready to learn the steps...to sing the song...to be comfortable in the silence. To be a loving friend and partner...to grow, to inspire, to soar. To be. And to be enough.
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