From deep blame to blessing

All self-help-talk in the world, life does happen – all by itself – sometimes.

Bad things.Seemingly bad things.Things that shape us.

It causes pain, turmoil and an instant feeling of unfairness…

All self-help-talk in the world, life does happen – all by itself – sometimes.

Bad things.Seemingly bad things.Things that shape us.

It causes pain, turmoil and an instant feeling of unfairness.

Why me? Why not her? Why does it have to be me all the time?

Well, obviously me is the only person who I know to the extent I could even say that. Or feel that.

And then there is that story. The story about what happened. How we portray it, how we paint it, how we summarize it, how we identify with it – and how we keep telling it again and again, so even if it wasn’t true to begin with – by now it is, because by now it is the only version we memorized, so we know it by heart.

We justify this story with the r-e-a-l facts. Those that can’t be questioned. We are not that type of person are we – we don’t lie, tweak or leave out anything – these are facts!

So we tell ourselves and everybody else anyway.

Now this story, however, has become like a chain we tied ourselves to and we don’t seem to be able to move on or release ourselves from it.

Painfully I am discovering and looking closer at these family stories.

My mother used to complain no one was around really during her growing up. Sure she got an expensive education, but no one never really taught her anything, or at least she considered it, that she didn’t knew anything really properly, having no professional diploma of any kind.

I think no one never taught her how to handle emotions and life – hence numbing it all off with alcohol and pills seemed quite logical.

Obviously I can list hundreds of “facts”, that will justify my pity song of growing up with one single parent who was addicted – however – would her “view”of life really supported me if I took it on? Her way of living catapulted me to over-drive, but it also gave me an incredible creative freedom (no one ever bothered me…) and an undisturbed reliance and trust in myself. Yes, again and again I surround myself with people who wish to take me down – but – deep down that is still my core believe – I can do anything. If she hadn’t been in her comas that wouldn’t have been the case.

It is a blessing.

I was free – and now – I can choose.

Choose to empower and not victimize.

Going home. 303 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Maciej Secowski at www.dreamstime.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

OK and not OK

Not OK is that I have stopped to tolerate just about anything…

Today things have been both OK and not OK.

I am slowly , but surely, sorting out all papers related to my mother’s death. One thing per week is the speed we go by, but it feels ok. I can acknowledge that I am moving forward without being totally over-whelmed. So that is ok.

Not OK is that I have stopped to tolerate just about anything, which I used to do with an addicted parent and so on. My chaos and mental pain tolerance used to be way above any normal and sane person. That said this in-tolerance could be seen as a good sign – however my kids complain – and in particular 1 of them.

Even though I know I am doing the right thing it it is hard sometimes. I am an adult. This is my home. She is also an adult – at least on the paper – and this is suppose to be on equal terms and not any you-owe-it-to-me-I-can-do-what-I-want-terms…the temporary turmoil does bring me down from time to time.

I don’t mind failing or being vulnerable, but I want to feel that when I am at home I am safe and I can have peace of mind – and quiet. My sub concious has been so over-worked around my mother in so many years it is like I have to retrain my brain , that I don’t have to have all sensors on, all the time, all days of the week anymore.

Last year about this time I did some fearless training. That was how I started actually. Learning yoga and about my own fears and how to re-train. Best is to do it 3 times they say – so maybe it is time to do it again. That is my tomorrow.

Now we sit here – she and I – writing with our computers and sharing a chocolate. Peace at last. For the moment. Maybe it is not only me who needs to find a new way home.

329 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Graphic Mouse at FreeDigitalPhotos.net