What’s playing: Love by Jhené Aiko.
Being here in Mazunte This is day 5. It leaves me with so much time. I kept thinking I would travel around Mexico but now with the Corona Virus in full swing and governments on high alert. I think it is best for me to stay put here.
Over the last couple of days Ive meant to put this to words, my feeling sorrounding my father, I cant say Dad because, well, I feel that the definition of ¨dad¨ is more nurturing. It represents someone who has shown up in the life of their child in a loving manner. My father did not and could not.
So how do we forgive a father? For me it began after a plant medicine ceremony in Peru. #thankyouPlantmedicine. It began in fear as I sat feeling alone, as if I was dying in full panic as tends to happen for me with plant medicine. It’s always dismantling my ego. I felt like I was dying during my ceremony. At one point I was pretty sure that I was dead. But this beautiful light surround me and in a large circle. And in the middle of the circle was this bird, floating. Im not sure what it was but at some point the ceremony switched into a vision of my father as a child.
I don’t have true knowledge of my fathers childhood. What I know about him is that he was born in NYC and that his mother is from Virginia. I know that my mother met him in high school and myself and two other siblings are a result of that bonding.
My parents also had a violent relationship. My mother was a fighter and when they got into arguments my mother would resort to fighting. My father Ím sure wasnt an angel. In my most recent experiences I was made to feel like I owed him something. I know that he is still suffering from childhood.
We carry so much of our childhood into our adulthood. My father did that.
In my plant medicine ceremony my father appeared before me, but as a child. He was sitting in a corner playing with a bunch of toys while his mother seemed to ignore him. She was either on the phone or it seemed in the vision that she was so absorbed in her own life that she didn’t create any time to cater to the needs of my child father. At one point as he played his mother walks by and he looks up at here and offers her his toys as a sign to come and play with him, but each time he would do this she would shrug him off, ignore him.
Then medicine flashed through different ages of his early life up until his adult hood, around and each time he would look for his mothers praise she would simply make him feel like nothing he did was good enough.
And in that moment I began to feel so sorry for my father. I began to feel a deep wounding had happened to him. The love that he desired as a child was not given. I began to cry profusely, deeply, and uncontrollably. I shed tears for his pain. Imagine this child who is saying mother please love me (his fathers was never really in the home, and I have my suspicions of why), and each time he is met with strong indifference. Each time he is met with snide remark, a look of disapproval, a negative response. This causes a deep wounding.
My father like so many of us was wounded in child hood. They say that children are born loving. In some ways this is true but in many others it is not. Children will often only love as deeply as their parents, at least until they make the conscious or subconscious decision to love deeply and in a healthy way.
My father was so deeply wounded that he as unable to show up in my life. He has never been present in my life. His father was not present in his life. He was wounded by his mother and father. In his wounding I then became wounded.
I learned after a sacred medicine ceremony a few weeks ago, that I’ve never really trusted men. Ive never truly felt safe around men. I dont want to make this blog about me being transgender, but for the sake of this post, my gender has always been one where I’ve had weird energetic interactions with men. Ive been violently assaulted by men because my perceived gender and presentation. So Ive never truly felt safe around men. This partly comes from my childhood, of being disappoint by my father. I can still remember him saying he would either come visit my siblings and I or he would say he would send a birthday or holiday gifts but that would never happen.
The first man in my life wounded me. Ive carried that wound with me. Ive carried my fathers wounding and his fathers. This wounding has seeped into relationships. Where Íve been unable to allow for complete trust. To not be like ¨this guy is suspect.¨ To believe that men are capable of showing up, being real, and being honest.
Built in that moment in my plant medicine I found compassion for my father: I found compassion for him. He is hurting. The little boy inside of him wants his mother to come and play with him. The little child in me wantsa as my Dad to show up. To give me a hug, to say ¨hey I am so sorry, I am sorry that I woundeda you, Im sorry for not showing up in your life. For abandoning you. ¨
In these moments at almost 32. I forgive my father. Im not sure if he will show up in my life in any meaningful way. The last time I spoke to him was in the early spring late winter of 2018. We exchanged a few choice words. I felt wounded by something he said to me and I reacted with expletives.
I forgive him because now I understand viscerally, inherently, and spiritually that he is wounded, he is carrying a pain in him that runs deep.
Im left to hold a space of compassion. Compassion for me is being able to look at the cause of his pain and how he responded to it.
In that medicine ceremony I felt viscerally how he was hurt, and THAT SHIT HURT. TO THE CORE.
I still have moments of anger but then I catch myself. I periodically do father wound meditations where I do just that, tap deep into the pain of my father, where I visualize this child being ignored or abandon and how this creates pain. Reaching out for love.
He was reaching out for an anchor. Our parents are our first anchors. The people that show us this world can love. Love is about nourishment. It’s about love being both given and received. It about communicating to children that you as an adult sometimes wrong. It’s about apologizing. It’s about teaching each other boundaries. Children have them too. Children are born open and accepting but not necessarily how to love. Love is also taught. As Bell hooks writes in there latest book, “All About Love”, love is more than making people fell good. Whether it is the child doing it or the adult. It’s so much larger.
Each time, in this father wound meditation I’m able to find that compassion again.
I hope later in life we can amend the relationship. That we can be friendly, even loving. I love my father. Love to me means each of us nourishing one another and respecting each other’s boundaries. I’m willing to nourish him.
Healing begins in compassion. So many of us carry the wounds of our childhood. Instead of attaching so deeply to this wound we begin to let it scar over. As my friendWe begin the healing by taking a look into what our parents experienced as children.
Im kindred sister and Happy Saturday from Mazunte. Let life be your medicine. Let your tears, fears, broken hearts, joys, and laughter be your medicine. #ILOVEYOU