Growing up I was taught by watching my parents that how you manifest what you want is by trying to manipulate life. Boy did they scheme, get rich quick plans, ice cream trucks, moving and shaking here and there, promotions at work and they were miserable. My step – father would talk about his dreams but my mother never ever talked about hers. I heard her say once that she wanted to take ballet classes when she was younger but her mother denied her. They weren’t fluid and in the flow of life.
My mother used intimadation to ruin my natural channels and flow with life. Even though my mother’s life choices were never great and I was sad for lack of connection, I was able manifest everything I wanted for myself in my life even without her help. Others would help me. She was not having it, she watched me like a hawk and made me feel like dog shit in order to keep me from being happy. After a while I gave up on even wanting anything, or expecting anything good to happen for me at all.
This is something that I am seeing as I lay here with myself realizing that there is nothing that I can “do” to make anything happen in my life. I have tried hard to make my dreams come true every since I moved out when I was 18 years old. I just turned 30, I thought that when I escaped everything would just happen for me. Not so fast, smooth or easy, I had no idea the work that needed to done to undo the programming that my mother brainwashed me into by her actions, how she viewed me, and how I was treated. Everything starts from within, with a true desire, with a true passion, the action is automatic.
Now the question is, what do I truly want and desire? I haven’t let myself know what I wanted with certainty since before my mother started abusing my masculine side (animus) when I was going through puberty.
There was a particular incident that I will never forget. I told my mother I wanted to be a singer when I was 11 or 12 years and she looked down at me with those wild raging eyes and she asked me in a very condescending tone,
“Sooooo, you think that the family is just gonna up and move to California just so that you can sing?,”
I shook my head yes, even though I knew it was the wrong answer, I honestly felt like that would be really cool, and plus I was a smart ass . Then she went in at me.
“You are so selfish, you think you’re all that, nobody is gonna move for you, I have 5 other kids you are not the only one living in this house . . . and etc . . . ”
I remember another time I was practicing really hard to get this brian mknight run from one of his songs, and I shared it with her. She rolled her eyes at me and had the most evil look on her face as she sled out the room. I didn’t know what hit me.
There was another time, I let her hear a song I had written and all she could say is that’s sad as she walked away from me.
Its so much in the words of the story that are important. It is the sensation I feel in my body that makes the difference in whether or not I truly heal. I can feel this in my upper back. Its a numbing feeling almost as if nothing is there, its a deadening feeling that stops all excitement. Its horrible, its almost as if it didn’t happen but something did happen.
This journey for me has been about self – compassion and self – understanding. As much as I would like to get on with my life and just sing already, now I know why it’s just not so simple. My mother gave me a self – image that I have to uncover and accept those parts of me back into my center. Its based off of her needs, inferiority complex, her never wanting to me thrive so that I would never leave, she needed everything in her life to match the view of life that she had because if it didn’t she had to destroy. Once she knocked most of the vitality out of me she still wasn’t finished, then I was a loser, I’m nothing, I’m crazy. That thing is vicious.
Oh, how confusing for a little girl.
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