There are sparks of light in the shadows, you just have to be aware of the swirls when they appear.
Like raspberry ripples they break up the sometimes thick intensity of the fog, to reveal the beauty that ignites hope and then creativity.
It is where forgiveness begins…
In forgiving myself, it is the road into the light. Having no expectations of others based on their behaviour, released a lot of the anger felt towards others, even my mother.
Saying I forgive her did not carry any weight, neither did it release me from the ‘malignant’ emotional ties that bound us together. The heaviness in my chest had not shifted. In telling her I forgave her, we were still tied together with my expectations of her accepting my forgiveness and ceasing her narcassistic behaviour towards me.
In forgiving myself for needing her, I immediately felt lighter and in control of my own emotions. I was not handing it over my emotions to my abuser.
In forgiving myself, I could dismantle, untangle, dis-member the symbolic umbilical cord she had wrapped around my neck.
I could look at my mother with pity and even care about her well-being, from a distance.
I do not feel the need to subject myself to abuse to pretend I have or have had a loving relationship with my mother.
Society is in love with the mother figure, the maddona, the nuturer, but not all women are born care givers.
In forgiving myself, I get to choose what I feel…