Reality is kicking my a**. I just realized there are a few people I have not consciously forgiven. This journey to self-love has proven much more laborious than I thought. I was watching “Behind the Music” – Mary J Blige, and she said something so profound.
I LOVE Mary, watching her growth has been inspirational. I have always felt a deep connection to her as a person and her music has been balm for my healing. Until this week I was not aware of her abuse at five, but now I understand my ability to relate to whatever she expressed.
She said “I am living proof that you can come from anywhere and have gone through anything and still make it.” She talked about the man who raped her when she was five years old and how she had forgiven him.
All of a sudden a light bulb came on in my mind. I have not consciously forgiven the man who raped me when I was five years old.
In my heart and mind I tried but I could not do it. I want to so badly, but I am stuck. So, I sit here asking myself, “Is my ability to forgive in direct proportion to my self worth?” Dam this sh** is getting hard.
I find it impossible to speak the words and thinking them is just not going to happen now. I have spent a lot of time in and out of therapy thinking and talking about the effects of my abuse. Looking at how that crap manifested in my behavior and thinking has been challenging. Changing my thoughts and behavior has been grueling and I still have a long way to go.
Once I got past all the anger I could forgive my mother and grandmother and anyone else I felt had victimized me because what happened made sense. I could relate to their behaviors and I understood therefore, it was easy to have compassion.
I have been trying so hard to finish my book. It seems the more I want it completed the more resistance I get from the universe. I am working to be in a space of non-resistance. The reality is I will not get there without this most important piece of the puzzle. Forgiveness, I am working on it y’all and I will keep you posted.
Again Mary J. Blige is my inspiration. I love you Mary.
“Bring me to my knees” was written because my mother did not call me on my birthday. I will not try nor do I feel the need to justify my feelings about this but I have gained a lot of insight and I want to share. If you have followed the blog you already know my history of neglect and childhood sexual trauma.
As a child living with my grand mother every birthday the only thing I really wanted was acknowledgement by my mother. A phone call would have sufficed or a card would have been even better, but no calls or cards ever came.
I don’t have the words to explain how unimportant I felt. It did not matter what party I had or gifts I had received, no call from her said I did not matter to any body especially my mother. In therapy I learned to ask for what I wanted so I explained to my mother in my mid thirties how her behavior made me feel. She started from then on at least calling me on my birthday.
This year that I turned Fifty was a big deal for me because I have survived and thrived. There was a lot of discussion about what I was going to do for the big 50 born day and for many reasons I just wanted to be away from home. The main reason being I did not want to spend any energy pretending every thing is okay with our family.
I was concerned that maybe something was seriously wrong with her because I had come to expect the call. When I called to ask about her well-being she told me she did not forget. She just did not call.
I hung up the phone and started to cry. I was the little bare footed five-year old all alone in a dark roach infested apartment by herself with no food crying for her mother. PTSD is horrific.
This time though I was different. I loved my self enough to validate my own feelings. It is okay to cry. It is okay to feel bad about this I told myself, but it is not okay to wallow in it. So I decided to talk about how I felt honestly with a couple of friends that I knew would just listen so I could process the feelings.
In the past I would have went straight into a deep depression feeling sorry for myself. I used to be the queen of pity parties but I have grown. I know not to take her behavior personally it is not now, nor has it ever been about me. But that does not change the fact that it hurts.
I love my mother. I want to facilitate her healing but she lacks the courage to face her demons. So, now I find myself on my knees praying for my mother instead of praying for my self. I pray for our healing.
I am continually striving to learn how to give more love.