There are times I have talked about painful events when I learn the other half of the story. It changes the reasons or understanding of events. As a child we understand everything in relation to ourselves and we take it personally. As a mark of unloveableness when something is not the way it should be, or we are a victim of abuse, or our parents divorce, or ….
There are times I have brought up specific occurrences and the other party says that it never happened, I did not do that. When I was a child I remember a whole fish, head an tail being put on my plate, and I cried that the fish was looking at me. She was angry as she took the fish, slammed down the cleaver and then again slammed down the plate, and everyone angrily looked at me with a firm silence that held for a bit. similar occurence when I got upset about the lobster. I must have been a sensitive child or a real brat.
I learned how to knit, crochet and embroider as a very little child but I sadly do not remember whom taught me, this distresses me. I am suspicious that my oldest sister may have taught me, I wish I could ask her. It just shames me that I cannot remember. I should remember, it should be a pleasant memory. It was kind of the person to teach me so much. I would like to know if I was easy to teach or was I a slow learner. I remember my sister knitted a couple tunics for me, the pink one I loved to wear. She was in Germany with her husband whom was in the Army, and she knit these.
When a person remembers something, the fact is our memories can be very limited, even blinded by feelings, and how we felt afterward. We do not always understand events that surround situations. I asked my father why he had left my mother and he told me something quite healing. Only this last year we discussed it. He left her because she was violent. He loved children and he opposed such violence. He had begged her to get help. When he was called home from work because she thought she had killed this child, that was the last straw for him. He left, he left four of us behind, his kids. He left the Midwest and returned home to Maine. Men did not have rights back then. She did not beat everyone, but I became one of her victims and it would have saved years of sadness and pain if he would have addressed the issue. I believe my older siblings were equally scarred by him leaving as he did, and likely they never fully understood why. Yet, all knew about the violence. They pretended it did not exist.
So many years of feeling unlovable, and believing I was marked for abuse and mistreatment. It caused me to run from love, and run into what was ugly and violent. When I learned that she had personal problems and that she was not capable of loving me safely this helped me to quit taking it personal. As all children of abuse do, we return for more, I moved back when I was 21 hoping to be apologized to, hoping for love and approval. It just was not going to happen. It must have been painful for her to even look at me.
It is called post traumatic stress, when it still comes to your mind, and you still feel like that vulnerable little kid, and you keep experiencing the same events, and in great detail. I can see, feel, and smell the events and feelings, and my heart races, and then days later I feel as I did then days later. My family and friends I have alerted, when I start talking and get in that mode, to help me move onto healthier happy topics. Against popular beliefs, it just is not healthy to live in dark places, if we choose to stay there. It could hurt those we love. Some things just cannot be explained or reconciled.
We are all damaged goods anymore, most have not been raised in ideal circumstances. Even if someone had a loving family, they were not wealthy enough, or pretty enough, or athletic enough, or they did not have the opportunities, or sadly they were a victim of some sort.
It is not to be taken lightly what ever our situation, it is just we must continue to live today, work towards a better tomorrow, and make good choices. Take opportunities to enjoy nature, write a poem, send a letter, take some pictures, eat a fruit, clean a closet, donate some clothes to a shelter, go to the library, and take a positive action toward something that needs done. Call a loved one you have not talked to in a long time. Just to see how things are going for them and what they have been doing lately.
When something in the past gets us down, we have to realize we just do not know all the circumstances. My adoptive mother died over twelve years ago, and I cannot talk to her about any of it. Yet, I did learn some things about her and I felt compassion. I learned she was not capable of some things. What good does it do to mull over the disappointment and pain? Some people almost refuse to heal. Having compassion for her does not make what she did right to do. It is just good to move on into the future.
Confronting pain and issues is not always as healing as once believed. I was told by a grief counselor to write everyone a letter and unload my feelings about them, confront the issues. The only thing accomplished was the permanent severing of relationships, delivering them pain. I have regretted it these last two decades. There is no healing from that. People are too quick to advise, but they do not have to live with the loss or other consequences.
Be peaceable, this does not include leaving yourself open to be a victim. That is not being peaceable to be vulnerable, hurt, and allowing for mistreatment. It is better to live life with integrity, doing healthful activities, and having some joy. Do not rehearse painful recollections in your mind and heart, do not burden your friends with the retelling of events. It does not help anything to keep reliving it. I have made the mistake for most my life, it does not matter how many times I talk about it, the pain is not erased and I never feel better. Joyful living is worth striving for. Map out a new kind of life for yourself. It is important to prayerfully look back on your life for some good memories and start telling others about them. That is the healing secret.
My mother was a wonderful cook, I loved the beef stew and yeast rolls she cooked. I wish she was here to teach me how to do it the way she did. Unlike me, she was a perfect homemaker, the house was immaculate. I would have liked to learn more from her. I tried so hard to be different than her, that I missed out on observing how she accomplished so much. I miss her.
By freely forgiving we unload the load that keeps us weighed down. Jesus talked about that a lot. Sweep out the unhealthy and breath in the refreshing.
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