White magic VS Dark magic.
This may appear to be a hippie dippie cuckoo sentence to some. However an epiphany from the book “The Four Agreements” (that was my first book I ever read on my path to REAL self improvement) of Toltec wisdom describes this concept as awareness to either choose to use your words and actions like Magic- Choosing white is pure and ethereal – Choosing black is dark, cold, toxic like deadly mold. The choice is Yours and Yours alone….
My mom’s perspective –
HER: She changed her true self out of fear and thinks that I am going to wear a mask and repress myself further like I did in the past. She was naked at Woodstock. She tried every drug in the book. Plays acoustic guitar,writes poetry, draws and sings her own songs written. She hitch-hiked across the US with her dog and again later with her cousin my “Aunt Maxine” (Love her to death- she is exactly like me too even though I have not seen her since I was a preteen sadly since she lives in CA), was geographically high on a mountaintop while high as a kite on LSD and a serial killer murdered someone or some people on the lower level or grounds of the mountain base she was at. She also was in a severely abusive relationship– sacrificed her all– let herself be defiled and disrespected– and eventually his abuse was on all levels like in my marriage (although they never married, so I am not speaking of my Dad). He got money apparently in some way shape or form and then cheated on her and abandoned her basically after she had picked up everything and moved onto a hippie commune in VA for him. Controlled in every way and then abandoned. EEEERILY accurate description of me.
ME: I have skinny dipped quite a few times at Siesta Key Beach. I had natural childbirth forever defining my infinite power to control physical pain. I have experimented a lil’ wee bit with my sexuality *shhhh*. I am an artist with my natural abilities of seeing art where/whenever I am outside plus with people capturing the real moments/bliss of everyday “smelling of the roses so to speak”. I too love my child more than life itself and I really love life and Finally know how to keep that ever so fleeting feeling. I know as well that I’d die for him in an instant without so much as a second of thought- as I know my mom would bear all the crosses I bear from trials/traumas, and would take away any/all pain so I would never have to feel an ounce if only possible. I too march to my own drumbeat and enjoy doing so; However we are not exactly the same anymore….
HER: After several near death life experiences including a Greyhound bus accident where my mom’s cousin Maxine was sitting next to her and almost lost her arm plus several people died. This last near death experience scarred her because she did not seek any proper counseling (as I did not in my previous traumas too until recently really) so she became incredibly paranoid about so many things. She went from a college graduate who majored in Philosophy and Religion to someone who became prey for the vultures of society (organized religion- or at least the one that stole away 1/3 of my small family) who swooped in there like she was roadkill to revitalize with a missing heart (watch the short film “Death to the Tinman” based loosely upon the character Tinman from the Wizard of Oz for this next reference) so she became a meat-puppet (Sorry Mama if you ever read this no offense I would gladly jump in front of a train for you but Yes this is my reality of awareness). To each their own and I know now that I am entitled with every right to be respected for my feelings and thoughts. Having learned and understood recently with this Ah-Ha moment of how similar my best friend Sharon (my Mom) and I are it has given me an appreciative perspective that has added to my bit of enlightenment.
The magnitude of repressed memories of abuse are so unhealthy to not uncover instead of burying deep down as they will just come out in other ways then. For me just now I remember a small detail of ex flicking the middle of my forehead HARD unexpectedly in disdain and anger towards me. After I would scream and beg him to not ever do that again. That of course pales in comparison to the couple times he punched me, but it is a small way of showing abuse. The shoves. The slaps. The flicks. Pushing me down and laughing over me while I cowered on the floor. Again laughing as I cry and shake from his cruelty then finally hugging me and being aroused by it sickly enough.
Hindsight is 20/20 after all- they didn’t coin that phrase for no reason. The quote by Albert Einstein always comes to my mind: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result”.
I did that for 5 years in my marriage and 29 years of my life sacrificing my soul in one way or the other to either please my parents, the church, husband, and then my son since I was too scared to leave worrying that his progress in developmental delays would go backwards. Funny quick interjection: The first time I heard about the Mayan calendar hoax of the world ending 12-21-12 shook me in a rather odd way. I was used to scare tactics of the world ending with Armageddon that was indoctrinated into me along with the fear of God growing up; However this time I stopped and thought “If this truly is the last year of my life do I want to spend it with someone who treats me so terribly?” NO. I started that supposed “last year of the world” finally starting to spread my wings that had been clipped for so long.
The lessons I learned once I came through the darkness are lessons that some people do not learn until their actual deathbed.
Family/True Love/Inner Happiness is all that is important.
ariellemegan 