I am committed to expressing the Truth of my experience here and for the last few days, I have been wrecked. So I am going to share it because this is a key aspect of my own personal healing and a stepping stone along the path of Self Realization.
I spend my days in peace and solitude. I have a beautiful business with a remarkably loving staff and a loyal and generous clientele. I do not have a lot about which I complain because I’m a trusting soul who has chosen to surrender her attachment to the material. My reward is peace and inspiration. This does not mean, though, that I don’t encounter a mass welling of bullshit from my own depths. I’m not going to make this a long entry, but this is the beginning of something big and is the first in many posts to come. I invite you to join me on this journey.
I am not the only person who despairs at the hands of their mother. It is an age old conflict that is resolved and re-aroused, resolved and re-aroused. It is at my mother’s hands that I feel weakest. And what hands they are: big, brown, strong hands that used to sting like the dickens when they smacked my face. Big, brown baseball mitts with perfectly manicured nails are my mom’s hands. But the hands are not the problem. The slapping is not the problem. (Although, I do wonder what person in their right mind slaps the shit out of a child. I know there are lots of people who vehemently suggest that I don’t know what it’s like to be a single parent and to raise a child in the big city. No. I don’t know. But I do know that anytime you slap the shit out of somebody smaller than you, you’re a fucking bully– I don’t care how hard your job is or how shitty your boyfriend made you feel. Slap a child, kick the puppy, turn your head while you see it happening at your neighbor’s house. Justify it in your mind and heart and feel free to voice your opinion because I sure as hell am voicing mine. And there are those who will say, well, your mother made you into the person you are today. And I say, yes. I am grateful for who I am today. I love myself dearly which is why I am speaking up for my inner child who could not express herself when she was was being made to feel like she was a burden who does not deserve to occupy space.) But the slapping is not the real problem today. The real problem is how the slap was processed and did not reverberate through my body, but rather stuck in my body. The slapping and the mean statements are meant to pass through the body and be released to the angels for transmuting. But what I did and what countless other people do (and what a child right now is doing) is take all that anger from my parent and store it in my body. You see, I got slapped, was told I was stupid and then my guts and my body got really, really hard and held it all in. I was told that if I cry, I would be given something about which I would REALLY want to cry. And I avoided that shit like the plague. So instead, I kept the energy inside.
And then sometimes Mama would be on to the next thing– her anger released and her big beatific smile lighting her perfect face and all would be well and funny and warm and how was your day? And other times, she would remain in a state of pissed-off for days. Standing at the stove, tending dinner, getting dressed for work, sitting on the sofa watching television, a look of utter peevishness and dissatisfaction on her face. And I would stay clenched for those days. Jaw clenched and tongue thrust forward expressing the scream lodged in my throat.
I clenched my teeth to brace for the blow. I clenched my neck and shoulders to keep myself upright. My tummy clenched. My butt clenched. My twat clenched. My breath held. And I would clench my heart to hold back my anger because if I released it, I would beat the shit out of her and I would tear up the whole house and I would kill her and my beloved birds and destroy my beloved Snoopy and Raggedy Ann. I held back my anger and my sadness and I would not speak of the sadness and despair to anyone because I was ashamed of my existence. And so I clenched my being and my story and my desires and my perspective. I had no voice– not for how I felt.
Even as I sit and write, my tongue is thrust forward, misaligning my teeth and I can feel the pain of the girl holding back the scream that wants to be screamed.
And my mother is not the issue. Not anymore.
This pain I suffer is from my own cowardly demeanor which creates an illusion of composure and calm when really I feel appalled and bored by the meaningless drivel that snakes its way into our conversations in the guise of psychology, but is in fact petty gossip.
Who am I? Why am I afraid to express my True Self? My voice is choked with anger and frustration and if I could just express feelings to her, then I could free myself from this prison I’ve created.
When did I become so damned chicken shit? Where is my voice?
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Hi there! My name is Crystal Lynn Bell and I am a Spiritual Empowerment Coach. I'm currently living in Paris, doing my coaching, writing my book, and studying French language and culture at the Sorbonne. I love Paris and I'm excited to be hosting a retreat here this winter called 
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Hey there! No resolution needed. I love where you’re going. (And you are no chicken shit!)
Gina, are you sure you’re okay with no resolution??? Hahahaha! I am happy to work on resolution. 🙂
I can relate to this on every level. Thank you for sharing this. I find comfort in knowing there are other woman so close to my heart that are overcoming the same feelings that make me fill so often with annoyance and anger. I crying for you and for myself, for all of us that have had to endure this kind of un motherly love we received. I have gotten brave and expressed my feelings many times to my Mother only to hear excuses and reasons why. All I’ve ever wanted was to be verbally justified by her for feeling the way I do but even If I was, would that be enough…I wonder? Am I supposed to just release these feelings and move forward with life? I thought I had, but then another incident occurs and the feelings come rushing back… I think to myself, I don’t remember much in detail, I have many, many suppressed memories of my youth…I think, hey, that’s probably a good thing but then I see a sisters childhood memories emerge and think…. Ohhhh no. Memories stay down…so, if you figure out, I’ll be here waiting for the answer. Thank you, Brave and Loving Creature! Xoxoxo
JocelynMarie, I appreciate your comments. I, too, just want to be able to speak my version of the Truth to my mom. I want to be heard. I know she loves me and in her mind, to love me is to deny any wrong doing on her part. She’s so fragile, which is why she makes the choices she makes. And I am compassionate, which is why I make the choice to silence my scream. But neither one of us are growing and we’ll be right back her doing this same thing again. I am searching inside myself for the courage to speak my truth to HER. That is the best way to love her. You and I are helping one another awaken. Our mothers will follow suit.
Dear Beloved SpiritCentric… Oh what courage you carry to express such honest real feelings… I salute your valour in speaking the truth … all the truth .. even when it is difficult to do so…
I also have journeyed the “mother” journey” and just now after four or five decades ( and many lifetimes) have set it all free. At the end when I finally was able to stare it all down, and claim myself free from the whole painful entangled mess…. I was carried up to heaven and who was there to meet my but my mother’s higher self… she greeted me and welcomed me and acknowledged my freedom yet said the full celebration would need to wait as she was still tending to her earth self who was not yet fully free. Right then she sent a rainbow arch from her heart to mine and said “only love like ours could do what we have done”
I knew in that moment that the love of mother and daughter had travelled to the depths of hell together – slapping and worse.. over and over.. and that now we had worked together to be free… she not so able to express her remorse but still a participant in her willingness to allow me to come through yet again with all my feelings and my power and my refusal to remain silent and invisible any more… what courage it must take to be a slapping mother who agrees to give birth to an awakening daughter…. what heart break there is in being that daughter and to never feel fully appreciated for the breaking of the bonds that you are here to complete.
I hear you, I see you … if you wish a safe place to express yourself I am here… as a sister, a friend a facilitator…
blessings to you
Grace
OH, Grace! Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful resolution. This anger which I am allowing to occupy my body and mind is not allowing me to reach those higher states of consciousness where I can communicate with my mom’s Higher Self. Geez, this anger is not letting me communicate with my own Higher Self. I am knee-deep in it right now. And I am grateful because I am at the breaking point and in the depth of meltdown. This is a blessed state because the beautiful change to a higher vibration is imminent. So for now, I will take the inspiration from the beautiful souls like you and use it to propel me upward and help me find the true resolution. I will keep you posted. For now, thank you for your support and love.
Wow… thanks for sharing!!!
You’re welcome, Dear Graciela. I’ll see you on Facebook! 🙂
I hear a voice, and it is coming from a brave and growing, evolving soul. You inspire me.
<3
You — every time you offer a class, or a treatment, or a thoughtful word, or a searching and striving post on your blog — are writing the brave book that is you becoming you. I want to follow you, but I am scared of the pace you set. If I were half as much of a terrifed asshole that I am, we would have met and I would be in your orbit a lot. Many of your invitations I meant to accept, but I put obstacles up and we are still strangers. Perhaps not for long. I just wanted to respond with a little of how your words made me feel. I am glad you are in the world. I see you as a strong and growing spirit. That doesn’t mean to deny your experience. You sense lack, and fear, and maybe even shame. I just wanted you to read some words from someone who sees you WAY different than weak. Namaste.
John, you’ve been a friend to me for a long time. It is time for you to get your butt into the studio so we can sit and be. Thank you for your kind words… AGAIN. You always send me love and compassion! I am very grateful for your energy– and we have never met. Wow!
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