Mixed emotions. Things that go unaddressed, such as the tormentor’s feelings about feeling loved and loving others. One minute he is a monster, the next he doesn’t remember. He hasn’t changed. In ninety years. He’s raised seven children all with the same tendencies for torture. In each of them is a hurt child who only wanted to be loved. Who inflicts pain and quickly forgets. Who wants to remember themselves at their worst?
Who wants to face their own tormentor? Themselves?
This is my lineage. This is where I come from. Abuse. Not the kind that makes you run, but the kind that keeps you feeling hopeful, that one day, you can be loved, if only, if only, you could be better.
This is the kind of attitude that has shaped the truly ambitious and successful, but extremely emotionally unbalanced people in my family. This is the weirdness that brings out great tasting creative endeavors. When put through adversity, you can either wilt or adapt. We learned to adapt. We learned to create out of our pain. We learned to heal through creation.
I listen to the same story told over and over again, about not being loved, about seeking, grasping for anything that will feel like love and acceptance. When you spend your formidable years not feeling loved and accepted that’s when addictive behaviors form. That’s where my addictive behavior formed, as a small child. I reached for the easiest thing I could.
As I got older, I learned to let go.
It’s an odd thing when your tormentor becomes your teacher and you learn to grow and change with the same person who contributed to forming your addictive behavior and deep-rooted scars.
That’s what an abusive relationship looks like. That’s the story I hear over and over again.
Because at some point I saw my tormentor as a hurt child and I learned to understand. It was the angels who showed me. The angels told me that there was another way. They said, look this way, this isn’t the only reality. I knew I would devote my life to changing behaviors, to understanding, to healing.
The angels knew that one day I would be a healer. That I would be given only so much pain to damage me but not break me beyond fixing. I can relate to the worst of the worst, I have patience for neurosis and bad tempers. I relate to the craziest, wildest, extreme personalities out there. I almost actually prefer them. They aren’t afraid to be themselves.
This is where I come from. The alternative road to health where I say affirmations, do yoga, eat healthy food, dance away my pain, and write and write, create more and more every day. It’s the alternative road to healing, one that is a constant journey that I share. I don’t have boundaries. I will tell you just the way it is. I’ve been judged way too long to care about it anymore, so I continue on with honesty.