No longer a victim!
In this video I talk about taking responsibility for my life after a childhood of neglect, abuse and years of severe depression.
No longer a victim!
Know any adults who could benefit from this too? Wow.. this warmed my heart ♥
I suffered from toxic stress as a child as a result of an unstable home life, lack of support from my mother (which would later morph into emotional and physical abuse), bad daycare experiences and the absence of my father.
The fact that in the future, less children will have to experience this fills me with hope.
This is a great video.
I love when people I have never met in real life send me emails about dreams I was in. The recurring themes I keep hearing about are where I am a healer, a teacher or a guide. Another is where they can hear my voice and it’s very calming and brings a sense of well being but they can’t remember what I was saying.
These just light up my heart .
We are doing some great work through our dreams! I am so proud of those who are awakening with me. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life and thank you again for sharing ♥
This one made me emotional for sure:
” I had a dream I was going through some tests and I had guides guiding me through them.
One of the guides was you or someone who looked like you.
You guided me to my mom’s back patio where there were horizontal beams of energy like space crafts, but I don’t really want to use that word because of its negative connotation.
Anyway you encouraged me to face my fears and look at them and acknowledge them. then you told me to let them in because they wouldn’t hurt me and to let them pass through me, so I went outside with you and I let the light pass through me which was an intense overwhelming feeling, like my whole body was rearranged, but it was good to face some fears. “
Society’s protection of parents damages children.
If the commonly held belief is “honor thy mother and father”, if you don’t, there must be something wrong with you right?
And PS: ever wonder why there are no commandments that you must enjoy the taste of chocolate? Or that you must think Brad Pitt is a babe? (sorry, I don’t know who the hot celebrities are these days)
If people need to be commanded to feel a certain way, there is a reason why. A bad reason.
Growing up (and even now, in the comments section of my videos), people were quick to anxiously remind me that my mother loved me.
This of course, following a video where I explicitly stated how abusive and cruel she was to me as a child.
People who had no idea what was going on inside the home where I lived with her, people who would not believe what she said to my ten year old self, after surgery in the hospital after the nurses left the room (“You’re faking”), people who had no idea that she would get us excited that “one of” our dads was coming to visit, insinuate that we would finally have a father for a few hours (YAY!! YAY! CLEAN UP! YAY!), and take off to her bedroom while we worked, only to come down in lingerie with no pants on when the doorbell rang.
This actually happened.
She also once decided to tell us that when we were kids, she wanted to drown us and kill herself.
These people were DESPERATE that I know that my mother loved me. Teaching a child that that was love is how these cycles perpetuate.
My mother tolerated me. Sometimes. Felt obligated towards me and guilty about me. She had concern over my immediate corporeal safety…sometimes. She sometimes was proud of me when she felt it publicly reflected well on her parenting skills (right).
But no, my mother did not love me.
Or appreciate me. Express interest in my inner world or in developing a personal relationship with me. She didn’t see me as a unique and worthy individual independent of her selfish desires and wishes. She didn’t see me as a new human being who had to learn how to be a woman and person from the one who brought me here.
Her eyes never lit up when I entered the room. She was never happy to see me.
In fact, she regularly neglected, ignored or emotionally and physically abused me because of her own issues and because she never sought treatment for her mental and emotional illnesses.
My mother did not love me.
If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to ask yourself why.
Another thing people are quick to tell me is to forgive, forgive, forgive. The best therapy I have had, that is helping connect me to my real self, the self that got erased by the indignity of my childhood, has encouraged me to finally be me. To respect my emotions, my feelings, my truths. For once.
If I had met therapists who shut that down by cowardly encouraging me to “forgive”, I would not be where I am today.
Do I think you should wallow in anger and grief and think about how much you hate your parents every day instead?
Yes. If it’s part of your healing process.
You will know when it’s time to let go. And being pressured to “forgive” by people who would rather not have to deal with witnessing your pain or considering what your revelations might mean about their life, is not helpful at all. In fact, it’s quite cruel.
Daniel Mackler explains:
“When therapists are quick to forgive parents their errors, and are quick to preach forgiveness, I am quick to say that I don’t trust them and I don’t want to refer clients to them.
To me, forgiving parents is not part of the healing process, no matter what the Dalai Lama or Eckhart Tolle or Mother Teresa might have said. Yet so many therapists preach forgiveness. Why? Because they haven’t done much to heal their traumas and instead took on the mindset of their traumatizers.
Those who preach forgiving parents are really just preaching dissociation. No one who has really gone into the depths of his or her childhood despair and rejection — that ubiquitous childhood experience — would expect or encourage forgiveness.
Instead they would respect the anger and sorrow and even rage that comes with breaking dissociation, moving through depression, and following the trail of grief.
Healing is hell, and there’s no way around it.
Often it entails breaking, and breaking deeply, from those who set up or even directly caused the trauma.
To touch upon an earlier subject, this is another reason why I tend to mistrust therapists who have children of their own. So often when people have a child they are quick to realize how imperfect they themselves are as parents, and in so doing are quick to forgive the imperfections of their own parents. This might sound healthy on the surface, but I have observed that it’s a lot easier for parents to forgive those who traumatized them than to look at the ways they are culpable of replicating those traumas on an innocent other whom they created. To me, preaching forgiveness is a sign of a stymied healing process, and why would I want to go to, much less pay, such a person for my own healing?”
MAIN TAKEAWAYS FROM THIS ARTICLE:
- Not all parents love or even like their children. This is a fact of life.
- Would you tell someone getting beaten and abused by their spouse that they should forgive them and that that person loves them? No? Then please do not tell this to children. Big or small ones. If there is a need for someone outside the family to convince a child that their parent loves them, there is something majorly wrong.
- Forgiveness should not be your main concern when doing deep healing. So often, the victim takes on the mentality of their traumatizer. Believing they “deserved it” is one. And automatically jumping to forgiveness is another. Who is it so important to that you forgive your parents? Probably your parents and other people who are made uncomfortable by your decision to be so brave. Don’t worry about that. It will come in time when you have healed yourself. Maybe.
excerpt from Is My Therapist Good or Not? by Daniel Mackler
Written by a feminist, but still a very good, emotionally raw article: I can’t forgive my mother
Required reading for anyone wanting to get to the bottom of chronic illness, anxiety or depression. Click image for a link to a great preview of this book
So strange to think there is now another city where I know my way around… and that that is LA. The cool parts, anyway. The energy here is somewhat jarring and it is overpopulated. But I have started to find moments and places of peace. Here I am in the Hollywood hills at sunset taking in a blessing. In the normal sized photo, you can make out the sign on the hill in the background through the mist.
I wish I had time to take more pictures when I am there. But I am spending sun up to sun down, hours on end with a team of the best therapists in the world, relearning how to be a human being together. We are going developmental age by developmental age, step by step, re experiencing the things we needed in childhood and never got, the things that happened that gave us bad belief systems, that form our early experience of life and carry on into adulthood. We experience it as a child and as a parent. We learn the muscles that correspond with the developmental stage. We learn that
children are often forced to choose between letting go either of connection or a part of themselves
Their choice usually sets up a lifetime of behaviors and life patterns that they will never understand the origin of. I was the child who let go of connection to keep in touch with myself. So at the age of 32, I now find myself deeply intuitive, creative and able to express my emotions but at the sake of maintaining any long term friendships.
I don’t mean to make that too simplistic… there is so so much more to it.
Our recent week of intensity has ended with Love and Sexuality at age 6. There is so much reorganizing and integration going on in my brain, body and heart.
I have so much that I want to share but it’s still downloading into my neural network. It will come soon enough.
My new findings may have caused me to lose my belief in love as we have come to know it, but the romance in my life will never die.
I first found him through Steven Summerstone. Thanks, Steven! These videos express everything I wanted to say.
Some days, I am still so angry and so sad.
I didn’t want to be someone whose overwhelming feeling upon her mother’s death was relief. Yes, she was suffering and suffered greatly her whole life. But I am talking about that sense that “Hey… I can breathe now. I never have to deal with one of her alcoholic boyfriends ever again. I’ll never again be manipulated for money or stolen from or guilted into anything or yelled at by someone screaming so violently that their head rattles and my ears ring with an instant headache.”
I never wanted to have to fight back. She once physically attacked me, grappling me with her full weight (over two hundred pounds), slowly pressing all breath out of me. Her teeth were bared and spittle flew out between them as she heaved her straining smoker’s breaths like a beast.
She desperately wanted to escape the hurt and anger of her childhood and thought she could wring it out of my body by force, losing her humanity in the process.
I never wanted to be a part of that.
I never wanted to carry this hate in my heart.
I didn’t want to be the kind of person who would take a certain satisfaction in knowing that her ashes were sitting unceremoniously on a shelf gathering dust in the basement of a funeral home.
Forgotten, abandoned, forsaken yet again, even in death.
Her sister had wanted to take the ashes back to the island YES I said yes please do but my brother had said no. I was disappointed but did not press the issue. I had a history of being annoyed over his expression of any kind of a preference. And I learned not to question someone who is grieving.
However, even now, I feel a twinge of annoyance at his insistence and lack of further action resulting in them still being here. It’s something I feel sort of obligated to deal with somehow. Although this will never happen. I have washed my hands of her.
My heart is another story.
Today an old song I learned as a kid in public school came back to me. I have been obsessed with being impure on the inside and being haunted by all the terrifying sorts of ways that that might manifest as.
I have spent YEARS eating only organic food, fasting, detoxing, supplementing, cleansing in all ungodly manners only to have the feelings intensify. It was recently revealed to me by my therapist than I had been afflicted with toxic shame. The shame that my mother projected onto me. This is one of the mental perversions it will take shape as.
I spent a few years of my youth not talking, after having been thoughtful and articulate and bright. I felt like my mouth was under some kind of magic that made me refuse to respond to anyone reaching out to me in kindness.
Toxic shame can do that. No one batted an eyelash.
The shame I felt over my existence and my mother’s behavior was like some kind of curse. Now, here I am, twenty some years later and I find out that it hasn’t gone away.
I could feel the song rise up in me… I tried to hold it back but I could hear the kids voices sing-songing along. I let it come like many of the memories that sometimes come to me to be healed.
Nobody likes me
Everybody hates me
Think I’ll eat some worms!
The song then goes on to describe them, how gross it was etc etc etc.
We were taught this is grade school, an entire chorus of innocent children being indoctrinated with foul images, ideas and words. I can think of other songs with cute catchy tunes we were taught in school that I look back now with bewilderment upon. Mantras of violence and self hate. Child abuse because this affects the brain.
I was overcome with emotion over this memory and the feelings. I pulled myself together afterwards, did my boundary excercises and put this on. This is what children’s music should sound like. And I am so sorry for myself and any other children who trusted that what adults fed our growing brains and psyches would be only beneficial.