The power of story telling

Before his speech he was just some guy who happened to be married to the mother of the groom. A step father who did not look anything like his step son and has entered the picture long after the groom’s father abandoned his family. 

  He started his speech with a memory of his son in college. It was about a B that he received in a class and his step father felt like he deserved more than that. And told him to go and talk to professor about it and ask him how he can change that to an A.  His stepson However told him : No dad it’s ok, this is the grade that I have earned and I have to live with it. 

 He said that was a great teaching moment for him, the lesson of acceptance and humility.

  He then pointed to his side of the family, and said : So this is my family here. And let me tell you a story : when I was very young , I lost both my parents and there was a moment that I thought I might end up in orphanage. But then my uncles and aunts stepped in and took me in as their own and raised me. So these cousins and extended family that you see , are my nuclear family the people who gave me life . And then he wished the bride and groom a happy life and left. 

 In matter of 10 minutes, this random step father of the groom managed to open our hearts, and realize what a sacred connections he had with his son, For just like his son , he too had experienced the pain of losing a parent. And then he chose to give him the gift that he had received as a child . A second chance at having a family…. 

  I have this distinct memory form when I was probably around 5. I started going to a new preschool, it was nice and big and had a swimming pool and was very close to our house. So my dad could come pick me up sometimes and wait for me in the car while reading his paper.  And I really like the manager of the preschool, she was kind and nice and her own two kids were there too. I even made friends, as much as I could. I honestly do not have one bad memory from that preschool, but something strange happened in the middle of the year. 

 At the end of the day( it was half day, I would go home probably around 1 pm) When I would wait to be picked up in the front yard of the school. Which was really nice and next to the pool. If my mom was late ( which she was at times,) I would sit down and start crying non stop. People will come and try to talk to me and calm me down, sometimes even other parents. Honestly even back then I know that someone will come and pick me up, but I just could not help myself and will cry non stop until someone will come and pick me up.

  I also did that at home too, our house was a duplex. My grandparents and young aunts lived on the second floor until I was 7 years old. So they must have been living there still. So in the afternoons, before my mom comes back from work for a while ( around the same time that I cried in preschool) I would go sit on the stairs which had a view to the street, wait for my mom to come back from work and nonstop cry. Again everybody tried to calm me down and assure me that mom will come back, but I just could not stop myself even though deep down I know it was pretty stupid. It was as if my anxiety had a big hold on me.

  Now that I look back, the age of 5 was a significant time in my life. For one thing my older sister turned 7 and went to elementary school, so we were not in preschool together.  My said anytime we went to her school, I would just stand outside and look at her school with a sadness in my eyes, like i wanted to go there too. Also I was 4 years old when my brother was born, so all the attention from me was gone and all of a sudden I was the older sister. And then the age of 4 was the age when I was sexually abused by my two teenage cousins. I was a brave kid, I told my aunt and it stopped, but that was it. I carried that burden with me until I was 21 years old. And later on I found out my older sister was severely abused by them, and my mom through my aunt knew enough, but did nothing to stop them.

  Now that I look back it all makes sense, the anxiety, the fear the loss. I was just a kid looking for safety and security and nobody realized that. And my mother as always was every bit neglectful as she has always been. 

I actually did a meditation couple of weeks ago, the inner child meditation and I talked to that little girl crying and assured her that I am her mother now and I would never abandon her. For I love her and cherish her, and for the fact that I am her. She does not need to do anything for me to love her, she is just an amazing  and resilient little girl , who is going to grow up to defy all the odds and rule the world.
  She will fulfill every single one of her dreams, traveling around the world : check. Education, check, financial independence check, deep connections : check, strength : check, kindness: check.

  That little girl who was crying was asking for help, she wanted to be seen and heard and protected. She was abandoned by her parents and she needed them.

 But that little girl, now has a loving parent who would go to the end of the world with her and never ever abandon her. One day that little girl will get up, wipe her face and play in that yard because she knows she is safe and secure.

   I used to write for the joy of it, or maybe out of loneliness to connect with the world. And sometimes I wrote to get out of my own head. But now, it feels more like a chore . just like everything else in life. 

Writing used to be my salvation, my way of communicating my feelings to the world. And now it is just a far fetched dream, something that at one point I was good at, and now is somewhere in my closet in the back amongst all the other things that I do not have time to tend to. 

 So this is 40s...

And here we go

   what a surprise, it has been over 8 years that I have not written anything. Or maybe 7 years, but who is counting. Maybe it was all for a reason.

  The past 7 years have been a whirlwind, filled with lows, highs and everything else in between. I had to go really low, only to pull myself back up again and experience an awakening and then commit to my own healing and recovery.   I intend to be pretty raw and open in this blog. Dive deep, and tell my story.

They say when you start telling your story, that means you are ready to move past beyond it. But also they say that when you keep repeating the story you run the chance of re traumatizing yourself. It is a thin rope that i have to walk on, but then I am ready to share my story with the world and move beyond it. I am ready to let go of all that hurt, trauma, pain and wounding that have controlled my life for such a long time and give a chance to healing and recovery. All the while i want to stay true to myself and what made me , WELL ME, the lovely and amazing girl who despite being self loathing and at times suicidal found a way out of all the pain and sadness and forged her path. Though she is still failing miserably at times and stumbles hard, but then as always she gets up and pushes forward with a faith in her heart. 

  I will not follow the chronological order in my stories and i will not guarantee that they are all 100% accurate and exactly as happened and sometimes those stories are just that : Stories. But at the end of the day they are my truth and my salvation.  I will celebrate my 44rd birthday in 3 days, well I have taken the whole week off to do so. But yeah I guess starting this journey right before my first day and 2 days after a new moon is rather meaningful. Let's get this party started and trust the unknown, and above it all Love the unknown, for loving the unknown is loving and trusting our very selves.