Scent of Cedar *
Well-Known Member
So, I was journaling this morning about the time that has been lived since I last spoke to my sister. Something like seven months.
Or to my own mother. That time is a longer time, and more like two years or maybe three, even. It has been seven years this year since my father's death.
And I expected to feel badly about that, and about what seems to have happened to all of us, and I did. And I expected to feel angry about that, and I did. And then, I was journaling away about not knowing what to do with the rottenness of the things they have done and with the hurt of it, like I always do, and I realized...I don't feel hurt, anymore. In fact, I feel really just fine, like all those things happened so long ago. I realized I am not feeling particularly guilty ~ which is a huge change. I am not steeped in that same old shame-based kind of underlying feeling anymore, either.
I hadn't checked in with myself enough to realize those feelings had changed, maybe.
Or maybe it was our last series of discussions on badness, or on how we slip into strange, unhealthy behaviors and hang onto them. So, I thought I would post about it. I remember being appalled at what I was saying here about my own mother, about my own sister and family. But at the same time, I had decided to try and was determined to come through it.
And I did come through it. We all did.
Huh.
So, here is what I said in my journaling this morning that was so unusual.
I don't know what to do with the hurt ~ not with the sh*****ness of seeing them, and not with the...actually, I am way fine without them in my life. Soon then, it will be time to move into the next phase of this beautiful life of mine.
Isn't this an extraordinary thing. I wrote "of this beautiful life of mine" and I see it that way. I think I have never seen my life as a beautiful thing. I have seen my children as beautiful, or other outside things as one way or another, but I think I have not seen myself experiencing my aliveness over time.
I think this is internal locus of control.
A change in perception.
Cedar
Or to my own mother. That time is a longer time, and more like two years or maybe three, even. It has been seven years this year since my father's death.
And I expected to feel badly about that, and about what seems to have happened to all of us, and I did. And I expected to feel angry about that, and I did. And then, I was journaling away about not knowing what to do with the rottenness of the things they have done and with the hurt of it, like I always do, and I realized...I don't feel hurt, anymore. In fact, I feel really just fine, like all those things happened so long ago. I realized I am not feeling particularly guilty ~ which is a huge change. I am not steeped in that same old shame-based kind of underlying feeling anymore, either.
I hadn't checked in with myself enough to realize those feelings had changed, maybe.
Or maybe it was our last series of discussions on badness, or on how we slip into strange, unhealthy behaviors and hang onto them. So, I thought I would post about it. I remember being appalled at what I was saying here about my own mother, about my own sister and family. But at the same time, I had decided to try and was determined to come through it.
And I did come through it. We all did.
Huh.
So, here is what I said in my journaling this morning that was so unusual.
I don't know what to do with the hurt ~ not with the sh*****ness of seeing them, and not with the...actually, I am way fine without them in my life. Soon then, it will be time to move into the next phase of this beautiful life of mine.
Isn't this an extraordinary thing. I wrote "of this beautiful life of mine" and I see it that way. I think I have never seen my life as a beautiful thing. I have seen my children as beautiful, or other outside things as one way or another, but I think I have not seen myself experiencing my aliveness over time.
I think this is internal locus of control.
A change in perception.
Cedar
