Hello, hello! I know I have been missing in action for a while now but guess what I am back! I've been on a hiatus, loving on me, trying to release All the things that no longer serve me. This space of solitude is allowing me to take the necessary time to put forth the energy to heal some wounds that I kept putting bandages over. The deeper I continue to dig into the depths of my own trauma, pain and toxic behaviors I find my hidden treasure of Love; self- love was always the missing component.
I spent so many years of my life looking for a love outside of myself only because my first encounter with love came from a guy being inside of me, whispering, I love you into my ear. I can't recall from my childhood memories ever hearing the words, I love you from my mother or my father, not even my grandmother who raised me. I am sure my grandmother spoke those words to me, simply because of the woman that she was . Truth be told if she never verballystated those three huge words, it most definitely showed in her actions.
Being birthed into this life through pain and trauma has a way of suppressing the good memories and allowing the bad memories to take precedent. I say that to say, I am optimistic that somewhere buried deep within my mental someone from my family had to tell me that they loved me, right?
I spent most of my life accustomed to broken fragments of a false perception of love. I spent some more of my life combining love with lust and thinking that the two flowed together simultaneously.
Love became one of those words that erupted so freely off the lips of individuals who used it to only fulfill their own self-gratification, the finale, the climax of eruption.
How ironic that I see clearly now that they too were void of the basic human need to love and to be loved. They were only repeating patterns of their hurt and pain and trying to fill voids, too. Love is an action word, right? It's no wonder that the act of sexual intercourse to a young girl who never heard or felt love from those who are supposed to love her can be misconstrued.
I was once a young girl, lost and turned out, dazed and confused, looking for love in all the wrong places. The tragedy of a broken childhood is that inevitably I became an adult woman giving away my love too freely. Still yearning for love outside of myself but not fully understanding (until late in life) that what I was looking for I already possessed.
The love I now pour into myself has become a radical revolution. I love this for me. My ability to love myself breaks the cycle of brokenness and unworthiness. I'm truly grateful that my grandchildren, especially my grand daughter will not have to repeat this cycle. Finally, I exhale and can pat myself on the back, feeling accomplished that the ancestral trauma begins to heal with me. One thing for certain, two things for sure you cannot heal what you refuse to reveal. Be honest with yourself, forgive yourself and then pour all the love you have left into yourself. It's worth it. I promise!
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