After my session with the medicine woman in 2015, which I wrote about here, I researched about ancestral healing.
I came across and purchased a package online on how to break the generational curse.
Much to my disappointment, there wasn’t anything new or extraordinary in the material.
Nothing different from the tools, techniques, and practices that I have already been employing to balance my energies in helping me with my healing and recovery — and to break the cycle of abuse in the family.
At least, it was a validation that I was heading the “right” direction — for which I am most grateful!
Summer of 2006.
I attend a three-day class on Ancestral Consciousness and Healing at JFK University in Northern California.
We perform genealogical research and ancestral healing work and rituals.
I had just started distancing from my birth family.
I set out my intention that someday, one day, our family will come together — if not on the earth plane, in the Highest Heavens.
I want the fairy tale ending — the “and they lived happily ever after.”
I attend the Reparenting the Child Within workshop at the Ateneo de Manila University’s Center for Family Ministries.
I learn how severely wounded my inner child is. Thanks to the workshop, I become aware — at the ripe age of 37 already — that my family and home environment is abusive!
When we are growing up, we think everything at home and in the family is the norm. We are made to believe that.
That workshop brings to my awareness not only how abusive our home environment is, but also how deep my childhood wounds are. How severely wounded I have been.
All along, I had thought that it was my father issues that I needed to address. Father wounds that needed healing.
After all, there can be no denying my father’s abusive treatments — physical and verbal, more specifically. They were widely known amongst close family relations.
Our mother tolerated my father’s abusive ways toward us. She failed to protect us, her children, her own flesh and blood.
Not only that.
My mother eventually took part in the abuse, believing that corporal punishment is effective — and the only way to discipline children! Quite sadly, as falsely accepted by society and handed down by prior generations.
I wrote about that in a previous post here.
“Pasalamat kayo, yan lang ang nararanasan niyo. Nung panahon namin, mas matindi pa diyan ang natitikman naming parusa!”
[You should be thankful that’s all that you’re experiencing. During our time, the punishment that we received was much more severe!]
That would be my mother’s twisted reasoning and justification for the physical abuse that we had to endure — from the very hands of our parents!
If my mother cannot protect me from my father, who will?
Just as how my mother instinctually hurled at us and meant her vile pronouncements when angered —which I wrote about here, My Mother’s Association With Black Magic — she, too, meant her defense for the harrowing punishments that we received.
She stood by them — and with much conviction at that!
At the inner child workshop, I became aware that more than my father wound, it was my mother wound that ran much more deeply in my system.
Our mother’s abusive treatments and behaviors were more covert compared to those of our father.
I learned that we could not put a spiritual Band-Aid on a psychological wound.
I couldn’t and mustn’t just pray away the pain. I couldn’t and mustn’t just pray to The Almighty to take it away.
I needed to do the work. The deep inner work.
I’ve had to go through an emotional purging. Mental de-clogging. Psychological detoxification.
I have to do my part — while praying for Divine guidance and assistance.
After all, doesn’t God help those who help themselves?
As a result of my discoveries and aha moments from the inner child workshop, I began to feel the strong pull towards the healing of our family tree.
I felt I had a special calling and mission in my family.
I purchased and devoured books on the topic, mostly Christian-based teachings. Those were the only kinds available locally at that time.
I attempted to include and invite members of the family to join me in my healing journey — in what I had hoped would be our healing journey.
I wanted my family and me to begin our healing together.
I gave my siblings copies of the book, “Forgiving Our Parents, Forgiving Our Ourselves: Healing Adult Children of Dysfunctional Families.”
I was magically led to that book. I was first introduced to the concept of the inner child through that book, two months before attending the inner child workshop. I wrote about that here.
I sponsored my mother and an older sister to attend the same “Reparenting the Child Within” workshop.
My sister didn’t have any aha moments.
My mother brushed it aside. She said that the workshop wasn’t for her — she was too old already, and it’s for the younger generations.
She was in her late 60s at that time.
No one is too old to heal and grow, in my opinion.
My mother’s lack of interest was in stark contrast to the positive feedback of a 60-year-old attendee, herself also a mother, and with grown-up children.
Asked for her takeaway from the workshop and addressing the rest of us, attendees, the younger generation, with so much gratitude and appreciation, she shared,
“You’re lucky to have these kinds of workshops. We didn’t have these during our time.”
I had hoped for the same positive and appreciative response from my mother.
There goes another unappreciated gift from me and wasted opportunity for my mother’s healing.
If my mother was able to quickly dismiss the workshop as something that wasn’t beneficial to her, I, on the other hand, found it quite difficult to brush aside her dismissal with, “Well, her loss, not mine.”
I wish it were as easy as that.
After all, if my mother wouldn’t take steps towards her healing, we, the children, will continue to be at the unfortunate receiving end of her unresolved inner conflicts and untamed demons — which was what happened.
Similarly, I did not receive any feedback from my siblings regarding the book. I did not see any shift in the energies. Who knows if the book’s pages were ever turned, eh?
[In 2003, I saw the copy of that book among my brother’s personal belongings when I was organizing his stuff. At that time, I was functioning as my brother’s full-time caregiver. He suffered a ruptured aneurysm in the brain because of drug abuse.]
It just seemed to me like no one from the family echoed my strong desire and intent to work on our healing.
I was disappointed, quite naturally.
I thought and had hoped that the family dysfunctionality days were finally coming to an end — with my assistance and prodding.
I wanted my family to experience the liberation and relief from being released from bondage. And the peace and joy that comes with it.
But I didn’t take it against any of them. Either it wasn’t for them, or it wasn’t their time.
And who am I to say, eh? That’s not for me to say. I am in no position.
I just find solace in the wisdom and truth in the saying,
I would also learn later that it was largely my Inner Rescuer that was behind my attempts and desire for the healing of the family.
To be continued – My Mother’s Rejection of Me at Birth — The Beginning of a Decades-long Wounding.