The Origin of My Life~ Releasing toxic family dynamics~
I dreamed about my mother again last night.
The imposing grip of my father did not follow her into my subconscious this time, wreaking havoc on my nocturnal wanderings, and she was able to sit beside me, her thin fingers enclosed around mine.
There were no words spoken between us. There wasn’t any need for them. The silence between us was calm and comforting. We were just two women with scars, holding space for each other. It felt healing, and I awoke with a sense of peace.
It has been exactly three years since I have seen her, since I walked out that door of my parents’ home with the shrapnel of my father’s words hitting my back as I clutched my sobbing child’s hand. Three years since I made the long overdue decision to finally cut my father out of our lives completely, which unfortunately included my mother as well.
She remains the faithful shadow beside him, forever bound and broken.
I can’t save her. And she wouldn’t want me to even if I could. Besides, that’s not my story to tell. It’s hers.
My story ends and begins again. A new chapter where I’ve had to mourn the loss of my parents. Not because they are gone. But because they never were.
Society teaches us from a young age, the importance of family. But as I approach the age of 40, I realize that family is a story we create and cling to. A narrative that weaves our genetics together to form a cohesive pattern and give us identity. The origin of our life. But it can also be the origin of our trauma. And the generational weight we are forced to carry can become too heavy, and we at times will crack, and crumble, and pass the load to our children, repeating the cycle.
But we don’t have to.
I see a revolution happening right now. It is quiet, and subtle. Forged behind closed doors, and hidden rooms. But it is powerful, and sacred. It is the burning and the rising of the phoenix. It is people releasing their family stories and birthing new ones.
It is the revolution of healing.
Who’s with me? 🦋