Steve: Andrea shared this on the Golden Gaia discussion group on the origins of her own vasanas and constructed self. I personally have always wanted others to share on subjects like these. I think it liberates our power to come out from under our secrets.
I want to share this with you all, although it no longer holds a charge in my memories like it once did. It has been processed out of the charge zone and I have rocked all the babies and this has brought me to a more balanced and stabilized version of Self in the now.
Here is the story.
My mother and I were like best friends. Her style of motherhood was very much like a best friend, a true love. For instance, I remember her telling me things like, ‘who ever it is that you will be, will be wonderful!’ Also, her side of my family were very tight-knit and gave copious quantities of unconditional love.
She and I spent a great deal of time without my father being in the picture. He was a travelling salesman and he would be gone for weeks and weeks at a time. To me, as a baby and toddler, he was like a stranger that would show up for a few minutes and then disappear again. I barely knew him.
The trauma occurred when he showed up at our house when I was 4 yrs old. My parents had a big fight over the phone about my father’s cheating. I had no knowledge of this at all, but I only know he showed up one day and took me from her. He literally dragged me out of her arms and took me away in the car. I cried and cried and cried for many days all day long. I didn’t get to see her, or even talk to her on the phone for nearly two years. The pictures of me from this time show how deeply in shock I was. I was devastated.
His answer to this was to be quiet and to stop crying, even to the point of threats to my person. At four years old, a BEing hasn’t yet developed the ability to do this. No amount of threatening could make me stop and I grieved for her as if she were dead. I might as well have been kidnapped by a total stranger, because this is the way I experienced it. It would be six long years before I would get to go and live with her again.
His side of my family didn’t give a care to who I was or how I felt. Their only concern was that I obey and that I shape up or ‘go to my room until I could act right’. Acting right meant abandoning my own self. They showed no interest in my own self, only in the self they wanted to see and the self which wasn’t inconvenient to them.
I loved my father and yet my hatred for him was also immense. Talk about ‘unforgivable’. It was perfectly plain to me that it was a lie when he told me in exasperation that my mother didn’t want me and didn’t care to talk to me.
All this amounted to a power play between my parents, but I was the one who caught the bullet. This was a bullet that stuck in my craw and played out in major ways throughout the entire first part of my life.
It wasn’t until I was in the years of 25-30 that I came to realize the real reasons he took me from her from his viewpoint. But the damage was done and my psyche was fragmented and crushed into dust. What came from this experience were the notions that who I am is not acceptable in society, that no one would ever care about my pain, only my obedience and my fake exterior.
Traumas like these, which are rooted in young childhood, or even younger, in infancy, are most often at the bottom of the behaviors we see from people that don’t make any sense. No one can access them but ourselves. Thanks to Steve and anyone and everyone else that has come forward to bring awareness and tools to do this.
It is all good to understand that you have a problem. I knew at 6 yrs old, when I wanted to murder the family that, in my view, ‘held me hostage’ and kept me from my mother, that this wasn’t right and that this was a serious problem. The only reason I had, at that time, not to do these murders, was that I was too small to get it on, too little to do it by myself.
My constant fantasy was to be ‘saved’. Even deeper and more difficult to bring to consciousness was the feeling of being abandoned by my mother. My love for her put the iron blinders on to this part of it, and it was not until I was in my mid thirties that I even processed enough of my feelings about my father to find this deeply buried part about my mother.
So, by now all have been forgiven, completely and without any holding back. I recognize that all of the players did the best they were capable of at the time. No matter what judgment I might have looking at this as an adult, as in, ‘how pathetic’ and so forth, I know, in my heart that this is so.
There are also the soul agreements and the life path plans we make on the other side. It is interesting now to note that when my father died, I could not stop crying for two days. When my mother died, I was only in peace. There is much more to this story than I can lay my awareness on, I know this. I just want to bless all those concerned and thank them for whatever part they played that brought me to Now.
Maybe this share will encourage someone else to dig out what ails them.