For those of you just reading for the first time, I am sharing my last 3 years of healing process. Refer to the Intro post to understand the process. Thank you for your comments and being a part of this journey.
Another long day today. I don’t want to be around anyone. Noises are very hard for me to take. Telephones, bells, talking, doors shutting. It is like being back there – lost.
Me: I talked to Chuck tonight. You know I tell him everything and he is going to read this.
Dad: Good. Be wary.
Me: Wary? Why? You always told me not to trust anyone – that they have an ulterior motive. Are you doing it again?
Dad: Perhaps. I know you better than anyone.
Me: You don’t want me connecting to him? Is that a little human of you? You want me all to yourself?
Dad: Nothing to do with that. It is about who you are. You put people on a pedestal and don’t see the truth of who they are.
Me: I haven’t done that with Chuck. If anything I see his truth and he sees mine. He is human and not abusing me.
Me: You know, I think you taught me how to create abuse in all my relationships. I learned those lessons well. I think Chuck is stronger than that.
Me: I am tired of bantering. I have so much more to talk about. Today, when talking with Chuck, I had this vision of you and me running through a grassy meadow laughing. It was so pure. Was that my imagination? That never happened while you were alive.
Dad: I showed you the purity of our spiritual love. You didn’t have it from me in human form. In spirit form you were a free spirit as I was. I gave you an image you could comprehend – a child running in a field with her father enjoying life.
Me: It was very tender. Did that love exist between us?
Dad: Yes it did and it still does. It got all screwed up during the incarnation. You wanted to learn so much about healing the word that you chose much suffering during this lifetime.
Me: Did I choose for you to rape me and beat me?
Dad: You chose to be ripped apart and separated from your soul your essence. The agreement was for me to do whatever it took for that to happen. You are a wise and strong soul and it took a lot to create separation.
Me: Oh. Apparently you were quite successful! Was I a horrible person before and this is my punishment?
Dad: No you weren’t horrible. You have always wanted higher truths. In human form that was one of my greatest annoyances with you.
Me: You wanted good to be wrong and wrong to be good. It is what you taught me through word and action. You used to get really ticked off with me and call me “miss goody two shoes”. Why?
Dad: Because you weren’t like the rest of us. On a deeper level you reminded me of that which I had separated from.
Me: Did I remind you of your mother? I’ve been told I was very much like her in many ways.
Dad: That you were. Your musicality, your kindness to others.
Me: Is that why you had to control me and show power over me so you could, in some sick way, hold onto your mother and I wouldn’t leave you.
Dad: I don’t know. Perhaps.
Me: I think there is some truth there way down in the subconscious mind.
Dad: We tend to try and exert power where we feel powerless and I felt powerless when my mother died. I couldn’t control whether she lived or died, or where I lived or with whom or even the new step-mother.
Me: What do you think would have happened if you chose a different path and didn’t hurt me in the way that you did? What if you created different experiences for me from a healthy place?
Dad: You wouldn’t have the same lessons you have today.
Me: Do you think I couldn’t have learned to love because I was so well loved? Do you think I couldn’t have experienced compassion because compassion was shown to me? Do you think I couldn’t have experienced positive self worth because I was treated well?
Dad: You could have. It would not have been so impactful to you had it gone that way. I know that is what you want. Think about how you judge other people when they are successful or have a lot of love in their family. What do you say?
Me: I challenge it. It is easy for them to love and be successful when they have been so well loved and so well brought up and had the opportunity for a full, loving life.
Dad: That is right. Can they really love the street person or know what it feels like to be abandoned and to have loss? Can they really come alongside someone on their journey, judgment free, and walk alongside someone?
Me: Not really. I see it all the time in church. It is shallow and I am judging it.
Dad: You can do that. You see people’s heart. You saw mine. You see people’s pain. You saw mine. You accept people where they are for the most part. People love being around you because you love them and make them feel they have value. You give that because of the depth of your sorrow and your pain.
Me: I don’t give it to myself, though.
Dad: That is right. You give it away like your money. That isn’t so bad, but you gotta give it back to yourself.
Me: I so don’t feel worthy of it. I keep going back to if I had worth you never would have done what you did to me. If I had worth, my mother would have wanted me and not treat me so cruelly.
Dad: You are so worthy. Don’t let your self-worth be defined by your family or friends or job.
Me: It is, though. If I had worth, I would be valued at work. I would be valued by my family.
Dad: You need to find your worth and value based on who you are as a soul. Those other things are transient. Your soul goes on. Find that within yourself.
I reflect on what he says and he is right. That is so hard for me and so fragile. How do I move into that place of value and worthiness on my own? Perhaps it will come as we move through this conversation.
Me: I want to change the subject. Mother has been on my mind a lot. I had a dream about her last night. So I want to tell you some things and ask some things.
I thought for a moment really wondering if this has value. It does. I need to know what he knew and what he didn’t know.
Me: Do you know that mother would get angry with me and slap me across the face several times and down the hall. She would drag me by the hair.
Dad: No, I didn’t know that.
Me. Then you would come home and she would tell you how bad I was and you would beat me.
Dad: I didn’t know.
Me: She played the game well. She manipulated you and you bought into it and not once did you ever ask me what was going on. Not once. I probably wouldn’t have said anything because it was just normal for me.
Dad. Your mother was the mother of manipulators to borrow a phrase.
Me; Why did you let her manipulate you and control you?
Dad: Because she was my wife and your mother and if she left you guys would have nothing.
Me: She used to say she couldn’t leave because there was no money to raise us on her own. You threatened her that you would take the kids away from her if she tried to leave you.
Dad: I did tell her that. I didn’t want her to leave.
Me: So you were a master manipulator too. The kids were the pawns in an ugly marriage.
Dad; I had to protect you guys from being without a parent.
Me: So you would deny us a mother but it wasn’t ok for her to deny us a father?
Dad. Guess so.
Me: Do you know that my head got split home because she threw the radio at my head. It wasn’t because I climbed on the table and pulled it down. You bought that one well.
I still have the scars and I was just 3 at the time. She couldn’t admit what she did to anyone. We were in the Philippines and I doubt anything would have happened anyway.
Dad: I wasn’t there. Of course I would believe her. There was no reason not to believe her.
Me: Here is a big thing.
I am sitting quietly for a few moments. What I am going to say sounds so strange and not sure what to do with it.
Me: She would bring me into her room after my bath and I had to spread my legs even though I didn’t want to. She had Vaseline to rub on my privates except she did it very slowly and very long.
Dad: I didn’t know that. Was she trying to help you?
Me: I don’t know if she was helping or hurting. I didn’t want her to do it. She had these long nails and would use them on my body. I know I was old enough to take care of putting medicine on myself.
I am feeling ashamed of writing this. Why do I feel shame? Was it wrong? If I feel shameful, I wonder if it were all innocent would I feel this way or do I feel this way because of his abuse? Maybe I shouldn’t share this. I feel very confused by it. I am so tired now. Gotta go to sleep.
It is now 3 in the morning again and I am awakened and can’t sleep. That is one of the legacies you left me father dearest. I feel so incredibly sad and alone. I wish there were someone with me, to stand watch with me, to be present. It is too hard for most people to be present. It is too much to ask of someone and who would I ask.
What is the purpose for doing this? What difference does it make in the long run? I was fine just a couple weeks ago. I was laughing and moving forward experiencing joy. Was that wrong? Was it just an illusion? I marveled how well my life has been going, but not right now. So why this? It is so emotional and I am not so good with emotional. Was that missing? The difference this time in processing is that I am fully experiencing it rather than dissociating. Perhaps that is the necessary part of the journey. I don’t want this pain to be the end all for me. I want it to process through. I want to understand. It used to be when things became overwhelming I would hide in the closet amongst the clothes where I couldn’t be seen. I feel like doing that right now. It is hard to work when I don’t sleep and sleep tends to elude me. My heart is crying. Whether I asked for this or not doesn’t stop the emotions or feelings. I feel so sad for what I went through even if there is a possibility I asked for it. Am I willing to stop now shy of the goal? I’ve come so far and quitting isn’t an option. Tears fall so easily and then they stop. I stop the flow of tears. Crying wasn’t an option growing up. If I cried, they would say stop crying or I will give you something to cry about. Apparently they didn’t get it that crying was a symptom of pain. Were they so removed they didn’t get it.
Me: Dad why weren’t you a real dad?
Dad: What is a real dad? I didn’t know how to be what you wanted me to be. Did you even know what you wanted me to be? Is this you now looking back yearning for something that is no longer available to you? Can you find a way to accept your journey for what it was and let it be your teacher?
Me: I do see that you all are my teachers of great lessons. I get that. Remember my writing a few weeks ago as I celebrated the fact that I was coming alive? That was short lived. Then I am in the emotions of it. Do I want it to stop? Part of me does. I want an ending.
Dad: There is no ending; there just is understanding and moving into your next moment. You can’t change what we did to you. Don’t let that be all that there is for you. Take the gifts of the experience and use them.
Me: You always told me that I would never amount to anything while also telling me I could be anything I wanted. Those two messages were paralyzing and guilt ridden. It is so hard stepping into my purpose and my calling.
Dad: You behaved in ways that was indicative of failure in your life.
Me: I behaved in ways that you taught me. You taught me to not value myself, to fail, to be crazy, to be bad. That came from you and I have spent my lifetime overcoming that in myself and sometimes I fail miserably.
Dad: Now you can choose to move on. It was important for me to create this illusion in your life that you were crazy and the rest of us were fine. I needed to be safe from your telling. You played the role perfectly.
Me: I did, but I am not playing that role anymore. I am fighting for my sanity again maybe for the last time. I know it isn’t pretty from the outside looking in, but I am fighting for it. This time on my own – this time without creating anymore abuses.
Dad: Fight for it. Value it. It doesn’t matter what people think.
Me: I am tired and sometimes it is so hard.
Dad: I know. I am here now to help.
Me: I don’t want your help. I really want you just to move on and let me figure this out.
Dad: You chose to come to me and talk. You want to understand and heal the rifts in your soul and return your essential nature. We have to talk for that to happen. As hard as it is, your tears are mending. Soon, there won’t be scars – just your soul – pure because all souls are pure. Even mine.
Me: This is important for me, yes?
Me: My heart aches. It aches for me and it aches for you. I am so full of sadness. I don’t feel despair though – that is new.
Dad: You need to feel the sadness. You run from it like you will die from it. It is an active emotion. Despair is inactive and will harm you further.
I am so tired and just want to rest.
Dad: Come join me in spirit and rest. You need your energy to continue. Climb up here with me and just rest.
Me: I can’t rest with you – too much damage.
Dad: I am spirit now and only have great love for you – a pure love one that you can’t begin to comprehend and yet at some point you will accept. You won’t have to run from me so much. Look for me in spirit.
Me: It is so hard to see past the human experience. I am sorry and wish I could do this better or differently or perfectly.
Dad: It is okay. You are doing a great job. Can you consider being more loving and patient with yourself?
Me: I want to let go, but giving up control could mean catastrophic events in my life.
Dad: Not anymore. You find control by giving up control. Come join with me in spirit and rest. You need rest. The journey continues on and rest is an essential part of it in human form.
Me: In my mind to be loved by someone meant to be hurt by someone. Abuse and love go hand and hand especially in my relationship with men. You taught me that. Now you want me to accept your love?
Dad: Yes I want you to accept my love. I want you to consider changing your perception of the world and looking at it through a new experience. Love and abuse do not go together. I know that is what I gave you as a human. Love is greater than pain, then sadness, then joy. Love heals. Love may include those experiences and feelings, but love is far greater than the sum of all those things. You love others even though you have endured your life with me. That is a gift – please give it to yourself. Please give yourself the same opportunity you give other people. You are so loving and accepting of other people. You chose to love and not hate. Yet you don’t give it to yourself. It must all be in alignment.
I sit and cry. It seems so far away for me. He is right. I don’t show loving kindness to myself much. I avoid pain by avoiding intimate relationships that are not based on a purpose. I don’t receive love because my belief system is that love hurts and that the expectation of pain is part of love and that I have to prepare for it the moment I start experiencing it. Go now before it hurts too much. What if I accepted love freely without fear?
Dad: You are truth. Remember that. Being truth you’ve got to see it all, experience it all. Truth takes in all experiences. My abuse of you and your experience of it is only part of the truth in your life. You are getting the rest of the truth. A limited truth does you no good and certainly is not part of what you wanted in this lifetime. Going through this process brings you to your core. Love heals.
Me: I am so tired.
Dad: Come and rest in spirit. Take your body back to bed. You are safe now and sleep is a gift. Let the angels watch over you and rest.
Me: There is so much more to talk with you about?
Dad: I am here. There is plenty of time. Rest now and we can talk more tomorrow. Allow yourself to sleep and receive the gift of love.
I am so tired and I feel you very very sad and the tears come easily and I don’t want them too. No one can comprehend the depth of my pain and my longing and my wanting. I have so many opportunities to learn about myself. I don’t feel very good about myself right now. I know they are old feelings I know they are from my past, and I am experiencing them now. I keep finding more information about me from my father and from Chuck. I just can’t share it with either of them. I am so tired.
Me: You know, mother used to say to me that if people really knew me they wouldn’t like me.
Dad: That was your mother. She constantly put you down.
Me: And you let her.
Dad: I wasn’t around much and didn’t know how much. Yes I let her when I was around. It was easier than fighting with her.
Me: It is interesting that none of you chose me. She did what she did so as not to have conflict with you and you did what you did so as not to have conflict with her. Neither of you considered me in your effort to avoid issues with one another.
Me: She told people how bad I was and people believed her. You believed her.
Dad: What else did they know. You did bad things. You played your role great and people bought into it.
Me: I did. I was truly the manifestation of a sick family and I carried that all my life.
Dad: You don’t have to carry it anymore.
Me: Am I?
Dad: Yes. Your mother and I are dead and we don’t need for you to carry it anymore and you don’t need to do it anymore.
Me. Sister still carries it on.
Dad: So and you play along with it.
Me: It is my role.
Dad: No. It has stopped. You carry it on and you can stop it.
Me: Ok. So if I am not the manifestation of the family’s sickness what am I?
Dad: You carried it for us and we thank you for it. Without it you are you.
Me: I don’t know what that means.
Dad: Yes you do. Seek inside of yourself and find your answer.
Me: What I find inside is pain and suffering and hurt and tears and loss and barrenness.
Dad: You are finding life within you. That is all the fertilizer for the rest of your life. It is life inside of you. Not once did you name death or you feel dead. Think about it. You are life and it is happening.
I just sit here and cry. I understand what he is saying, and the pain is deep and I wonder when it will stop.
Dad: You wanted to understand this experience of loss and disappointment and sorrow and barrenness. You wanted to know how bad it felt not to stay there, but to find your way out of it with meaning and purpose.
Me: What was I thinking!
Dad: You were loving. You knew you had the strength to be a catalyst for change. You know the value of being that person. You are the light to so many people. You are fire. Fire forever changes the landscape. Let the fire roar strong and let it transform you and those around you. These things are not visible if you do not have the integrity to back them up. Your experience speaks volumes.
Me: I am so tired.
Dad: Go ahead and cry. Allow the angels to hold you. Rest in them. Release control to them. Let their angel wings wrap around you and enclose you and feel safe.
Me: I can’t. There is so much to do and I have to push on through this. Can’t give up.
Dad: You are not giving up. You are resting so you can finish strong.
Me: I want to be golden and soar with eagles wings. I want to rise above and dance . I want to be wanted and I want to matter. I want to be significant. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. I want to feel loved and worthy. I want what I touch to be golden.
Dad: It is hard to feel those things when it has all been taken from you. I played my role and I did a great job. My heart aches to see such beauty in so much pain.
Me: It just involves so much of my life. It affects everything and I feel so lost. I am not seeing clearly.
Dad: You are seeing yourself more clearly which means you are not seeing others so clearly. You think you know what you need to fix the pain and it isn’t so. Having what you want won’t fulfill that place in you. It will be only temporary.
Me: Other people get it. Why not me? What is wrong with me?
Dad: It isn’t that you did anything wrong. This is your journey to find the beauty in the ashes. You can do it so well for other people. Do it for yourself.
Me: I don’t feel the beauty. I feel lost. I can’t hope or dream.
Dad: Cling to your truth and let it lead you through this. You have to find your own way.
Me: I have more questions.
Dad: I know you do. Now isn’t the time. Now is the time to rest and heal some and experience your feelings.
Me: I am so alone.
Dad: You need to rest. You’ve been working hard. Allow some healing. Knowing your separation from your soul is painful. Seeing truth can be painful. Waking up can be painful.
Me: My heart is breaking. I feel so broken. I feel so abandoned.
I am sobbing and there is this deep pain wanting to come out and there is no voice. I carried it all for everyone. I did my job well. I continued to be my mother’s sacrificial lamb. I have been so strong and I can’t do it the same way anymore. I want me. I want all of me. I want my life and I want to transform. I’ve carried their pain and their rage and their criticism and their rape and their sorrow. I carried it for them so they didn’t have to carry it. I don’t want to carry it anymore. I won’t be abused anymore or hurt or rejected or criticized or abandoned.
Another night of very little sleep. I am so tired. I’ve reached a major point in my journey. I have reached the cavern of my severed soul. I’ve reached the major rift in my soul – the desecration of the atomic bomb inside. It is so dark and so painful. Here is all of the crap of the generations of my family. I am the carrier of all the violence, all the abuse, all the sorrow. I have entered the place to meet it all and then heal the family and myself. I’ve so little energy and not sure what to do next or even if I can humanly to anything. I feel the weight and know I must move through this to free up all the generations behind me, beside me and before me. Where do I draw strength from? The sobbing continues inside. The frightened parts are active but united. It is on me. It is time for freedom for my family. The pain is near unbearable. I am not sure what to do. I feel so completely alone and isolated. Lost and hurting. There is no one to enter this place with me. I am so tired.