Breaking Ancestral Patterns
Some Patterns Need Breaking
Some of you came here to break ancestral patterns and heal trauma. The trouble is, you don’t usually know it. until go through your own challenges, lessons, and traumas to discover your purpose. You also have to go through an incredible amount of pain, ripping yourself out of a path your family has followed—perhaps for many generations.
For me, it wasn’t really a single event, but several spanning more than 15 years. I spent the first 40 or so years living a life isolated from true connections, unaware that the lessons I’d been taught from the cradle were not only dead wrong, but horrifically damaging to an ultra-sensitive psyche like mine.
Even my mother’s suicide in 1993 wasn’t enough to shake me loose from old, unhealthy beliefs. When my dad followed suit in 2003, the walls had begun to weaken, but were still held firmly in place, if only with spit and baling wire. It wasn’t until my eldest daughter started talking about moving out in early 2009 that the weakening supports holding all the old, uncomfortable misconceptions in place began to crumble in earnest.
Visiting a Broken Belief System
Losing my parents, even in the worst way possible shook me to my core, but it wasn’t a strong 
enough shock to allow me to let go of a belief system that never felt right in the first place. Once they were gone, and the rest of my family distanced, it seemed like the only thing I had left to connect me with my origins. Only the thought of being completely alone could turn my life upside down and allow all the pieces to start falling out of a box that was never meant to contain a lifetime of hurts, abuse, and frustration.
Thankfully, my daughter didn’t leave me without the tools to rebuild my crumbling self into something better, nor did she move out for a couple more years. She encouraged me to take up writing again. I learned it was a safe place to air those feelings, and even start sharing them publicly.
It happened slowly at first, with Tarot readings, and small glimpses behind my veil. But as time went on, I opened up further, first sharing my parents’ suicides, then bringing my own confused and convoluted feelings into the mix.
Self-Protection or Isolation?
I learned the old, self-protective beliefs my family had passed down for generations meant living without something far more important than self-preservation. People are better together, and are, in fact stronger in groups than they could ever be alone. People need deep, heartfelt connection, and that connection isn’t possible as long as you hold your feelings deep inside, and fight what I learned was a losing battle to keep a clean, unbroken facade in place.
Sharing my brokenness worked on several levels. First and foremost, it dispelled the myth that my life was perfect. No one around me had a life without challenges, fumbles, bumps, and bruises, so letting them believe I did gave them nothing to relate to. I was some mythical creature living in a cave, hording my memories and experiences like jewels.
Keeping my feelings to myself also meant no one could be there for me, because as far as they were concerned, I needed no one but myself. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but I had a deep-seated fear of allowing anyone to see I was struggling. I’d been taught to believe it would invite them to take advantage of me, and none of my own experiences disproved my teachings. I’ve since learned you get what you put out into the world, and I honestly expected to be mistreated, so guess what? I got what I asked for in spades!
Opening Old Wounds to Healing
Thanks to my daughter, I eventually laid it all out on the table, first via my blog, and later in
Photo Credit-Spiral Tarot
person with the new, deeper connections I made when I learned to stop pretending. I now realize I’m not alone in struggling with the loss of a loved one by suicide. I share my feelings, struggles, confusion, and loneliness with, perhaps, far too many people. But at least I don’t have to hide those feelings away any more. They’re honest and raw, and won’t heal unless I pull them out, slog through them, and feel them down to my core. Only then can I let them go.
There are some feelings I’m learning have to be relived over and over before they can be released. Once I would have stuffed them away so I wouldn’t have to relive the pain. Now I know each time they arise, the pain is lessened, and I get to release another piece of it. There may someday come a time when certain things no longer trigger painful memories and emotions, but if not, at least they’ve also begun to trigger happier memories as well.
You grieve because someone you love is no longer there to love on. You relive the pain because they’re no longer there to make new memories, and you’re sad because they miss out on so many milestones in your life, and the lives of your children. Once I believed it was dangerous and weak to openly suffer through another round of painful memories. Now, I revel in the fact I’m healing a little more every day.
A Life Made Fuller With Connections
Looking back, I see how empty my life was while I was trying desperately to contain feelings that were never meant to be contained. It saddens me to think so many generations before me lived their whole lives believing they couldn’t share their feelings; who stuffed them down, or numbed themselves with drugs, alcohol, or some other kind of addiction.
I don’t know why the task of healing ancestral wounds fell on me, but I will be eternally grateful I was given the task. It’s opened up an entirely new world for me, even if it’s meant feeling a lot of pain in the process. In so doing, I learned reliving painful memories isn’t about the pain at all, but about the catharsis. It’s about learning you don’t suffer alone when you break the silence, and you get to start healing the roiling, festering mess you’ve kept inside longer than necessary or healthy.
Healing begins with cleaning out the wound, whether it’s physical or emotional. Until you open the wound and let the infection drain out, the wound will never heal. An unhealed wound will eventually poison the entire organism. If my own family is an example, there’s a lot of uncleared poison running through the familial tree, being passed down from generation to generation. I doubt I can heal it all in my lifetime, but at least I’ve lanced some of the wounds and allowed them to start draining.
Grateful for the Twists and Turns in My Path
My gratitudes are:
- I’m grateful for the opportunity to heal ancestral wounds.
- I’m grateful for reminders to feel all feelings, even the painful and uncomfortable ones, be they personal or ancestral.
- I’m grateful for inspiration that comes from many directions, and keeps the words flowing.
- I’m grateful for constantly improving health as I release old hurts, and clear energy blocks.
- I’m grateful for abundance; love, inspiration, motivation, epiphanies, joy, sorrow, grief, pain, love, release, health, peace, balance, harmony, philanthropy, and prosperity.
Namaste
About the Author
Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental 
health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.
If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author.
The first time I heard these words was in a commercial for arthritis medication. In the last few years, not only have they become more meaningful, they’ve come to be a way of life. Knee surgery 8 years ago, almost a lifetime of dancing, and the extra pounds I carry have given me more than enough reasons to keep my muscles and joints as flexible and lubricated as possible. Sitting in front of the computer, or TV all day does not accomplish this essential goal.
the excuse that I danced twice a week, and went to the gym three times. I’m learning now, what I did was good, but what I have now is much better. I get some of my exercise by going outside and working in the yard, some from dancing, and surprisingly, none from lifting weights, at least not in the traditional sense.
An inveterate slob, I’ve come to appreciate sofas that are fur-free, floors that aren’t gritty (which I notice as I usually run barefoot), and a kitchen that’s clean and ready for the new day, whether I choose to eat out of my freezer, or fix something more complicated. Rarely do I need to move things around in order to begin a new project, be it cooking, home repairs, or something crafty. Even my garage is getting more organized as I tend to extend any cleaning and decluttering project I start when I’m out there.
but not others, as are those who devote their time to helping others. Like anything else, it’s about balance; sufficient time spent looking after personal needs, those of others, and simply Being. Down time is yet another critical piece of the puzzle; a time when I’m not thinking or doing anything at all except enjoying the moment I’m in. Finding that balance is challenging because it’s constantly changing, and being impacted by outside forces.
Lately, the rush of emotions comes on suddenly. The fear, the anger, the frustration, and worst of all, the loneliness. For the most part, these feelings aren’t mine, but they engulf me on those occasions when I have to leave the house to run a few errands I couldn’t accomplish with my phone or the internet.
awhile until it smacked me in the face. I started getting migraines again for no apparent reason. My heart would pound though I had done nothing more than walk around the house. My body would tense up making me afraid to even move.
I have a wealth of opportunities to clean, organize, or be productive. I’ve yet to create any sort of list, aside from my blog schedule. I’ve been overwhelmed by a yard that was becoming a forest until my friend brought over lawn equipment that’s been sitting in a garage unused for several years. There are no lawns to tend in a condo.
with people I’ve learned to appreciate in recent years. I need chats on the porch and Saturday night gatherings for my mental as well as physical health. I’m learning that connection isn’t an option if I want to stay healthy. When I see people wandering through a store with no real sense of purpose or direction, I remember that was me not too many years ago, and my heart breaks a little.
I can’t begin to count the number of times a night out dancing pulled me out of my doldrums and quelled my feelings of worthlessness. Exchanging hugs with my friends, or laughing on the dance floor lifted me back up when I needed it most. How many others depended on a regular social schedule to maintain their sanity? Add financial woes to the mix for many, and the picture isn’t pretty. Is it any wonder many are running afoul of the social distancing orders?
sometimes it takes a good shaking to remind some to show that caring before it’s too late. I see now I’m one who needed a shaking, and at times, I wallow in the realization I let my parents down by not showing them I cared when they were still around.
I’m thinking about the hours, weeks, and days that stretch ahead, alone in my house with my cats. Don’t get me wrong. I love my furballs, and they’ve always been a great source of comfort. But face it. People need people, and much as I might try to deny it, I’m no exception.
dances via Zoom. After that, I went into an almost manic state; cleaning, doing laundry, even vacuuming the garage. In my defense, I’d spilled some cat litter while transferring it from the bags it came in into more easily accessible buckets. Once I revved up the shop vac, it kind of pulled me along, sucking up grit and rubble that had accumulated on the garage floor around my car.
My cats are becoming more spoiled than ever as they’re getting excessive lap time and tummy skritches with me home 24/7. That will slow down as I am compelled to spend more time at the computer or on the patio writing. I do, however, carry on long, deep conversations with them. If only they could contribute to the conversation instead of it being a long monologue. At some point, I might even run out of things to say.
our dance instructors and DJ’s. At this point, there are nights when I’ll even have to choose which event to attend! Even line dance lessons are continuing, which, if you ask me, is nothing short of amazing! The Borderline family and the Country dance community as a whole have been through hell and back the last couple of years, yet, like a phoenix, we keep rising to whatever occasion we have. We’ve danced in malls, barns, and parking lots. We’ve found new places where we were welcomed with open arms. Now, we dance in our own living rooms, garages, dens, and kitchens. But we’re still dancing.
Whether it’s the cup of tea I’ve added to my nightly routine, the new regular dance nights, or finding exercise videos that will keep what I’ve achieved through strength training intact until I have access to heavier weights and machines again, I’ve learned my mind and body are used to a certain level of exercise and stimulation. I might need more rest at times because the energies are heavy right now. Ultimately, I need to move more than I realized, and I will find ways to get what I seem to have lost, albeit only until I figure out a workaround.
More and more, I’m becoming aware that everyone has a rhythm. Every social group, family, and community is comprised of a broad range of rhythms which combined, serve to give the social unit balance. People within those groups are drawn together by those rhythms; some because they’re similar and go through life at a compatible pace, and others as opposites, or at least vastly different because as individuals we need to find our own balance at an interpersonal level.
vs. separation ebbs and flows. Others seem to be the spark that keeps everything lit, like the pilot light on your stove or water heater. Many, in fact, engage and disengage in a dance known only to the dancer, and even then, often at a subconscious level.
Recently, a discussion ensued about feeling alone in a crowd; disconnected from the energy flow. There was a time I’d have felt uncomfortable when that feeling of disconnection came on. One night, I decided to ride it out instead of fighting it, or looking for the source of my disconnection (me, someone else, something else). I discovered experiencing moments of disconnection weren’t really a bad thing. Instead, they give me a different, and often clearer perspective.
drive some closer together while others move further apart, or into other circles as their own rhythm shifts and changes. I picture a kaleidoscope where all of the participants are pieces of colored glass. With each turn, the pieces shift and reassemble into different patterns, never returning to the same one twice.
It occurs to me that the ones vibrating the fastest leave the smallest pieces of themselves behind; perhaps only the tiniest spark. Is it by accident, or design? In a way, I accomplished the same thing when I kept myself tightly encased in a kind of energy damping cotton wool. My touch was feather-light and few if any even felt me pass. Though the swift movers can definitely be felt, they’re gone before a piece of themselves escape their own version of protection.
Instead, it allows me to open up and build on what I have with input from others. It creates a synergy where the whole is more dynamic; more evolved than it could possibly have been left to its own devices.
health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her 
There have been quite a few conversations about how we judge people by the way they look. It might be a style of dress, hairstyle, tattoos, piercings, or skin color. In the end, it comes down to attributing certain negative characteristics to anyone who looks like someone you’ve decided is mean, scary, or dangerous.
they go about it often makes things worse instead of better. Someone along the way decided cultural diversity training meant teaching white people to treat everyone else with more sensitivity and respect, instead of making it applicable to all. Rather than bringing everyone closer together, it’s widened the gap into a chasm, and made the disparity even more noticeable and impossible to breach.
In order to truly embrace the diversity of our cultures, we need more conversations. We need more coming together, not because it’s dictated by a government or other entity, but because we truly want to understand each others’ beliefs and pain points. But more, because we want to bridge the gaps those beliefs and pain points have generated through the passing of prejudices from generation to generation.
ease when I’m in conflict with others. I experience discomfort when I’m out of sorts with someone in my own social circle, much less a large chunk of society. Yet I haven’t figured out how to get back in balance. There are too many conflicting factions, all demanding I take their side, and speak out in the same manner they do.
Do I make mistakes? Of course I do. And I try to own up to them insofar as the other party or parties is willing to accept my apology and move on. Again, it’s not always the case. Some people hold onto a negative experience and will judge me as lacking forever more. I’ve done the same myself until I find a way to forgive myself and the other party. We’re all human, which means, we aren’t perfect. All we can do is try.
My point here is we tend to make assumptions, most of them false when we’re not acknowledged or answered. It happens often enough between friends, so take the number of instances and multiply it by 50 billion or so. That will give you a conservative idea of how many misunderstandings and misconceptions happen every day in our nation, much less, our world.
in the Laws , of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her 
Even though I have several decades under my belt, some things don’t seem to change. Men buzz around one beautiful flower, and completely miss the fact that there’s an entire garden to choose from. Maybe what attracts them has morphed a little, but they all still seem to want the same thing.
who know how to feign extroversion) seem to be the ones attracting all the bees. The quieter ones who open up only once they’ve developed a level of trust are left alone. I suppose we’re not worth the effort it takes to get to know us. Getting past the hard outer shell many of us have developed after years of disappointing relationships takes a willingness to be patient and keep things casual for awhile.
I hear similar laments from other women, so don’t think it’s just me. At this point, there are several factors which could be contributors, not only for me but for some of my friends:
to have a relationship simply act more interested in the process. Once eye contact is made, they have a way of making each person they talk to, male or female feel special in their own way. Though I’ve been the recipient, I’ve never mastered that particular social skill.
I talk to one of my “Belle” friends a lot. She says I need to be more open to meeting people in off-the-wall places like elevators and jury duty; places others seem to meet. But I don’t feel I’m at my best in a crowd of people, or when I’m sweaty and wearing baggy clothes at the gym. I find it difficult to connect when I go somewhere for a purpose, or have to be somewhere I consider unpleasant. Instead, I’ll put headphones in my ear and hide out behind a book or a laptop. It’s my way of making the uncomfortable bearable.
manage it, but clearly they do or there would be a lot more people drifting around alone. My only guess is they grew more tired of being alone than I have, and took a giant step outside their comfort zone, socially. They learned to approach men they didn’t know while being friendly and open. Maybe they used the dating sites or something to help get themselves over the hump. The discovered something I’ve been unable to figure out. Which means there’s still hope for me and the rest of the women who feel like wallpaper.
of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her 
Although my kids moved out years ago (has it really been that long?) I’m starting to notice things I no longer keep in the house. I don’t mean the obvious like piles of laundry, messy rooms, and a sink full of dishes I didn’t use. No, I mean the more subtle things. The products I no longer use and the foods I no longer eat, the occupation of my space.
the kids flew the coop? Here are a few things, years later I’m still discovering and loving:
parents out there definitely has its highs and lows. We learn to adjust to the lows and fill our lives with enough activity to keep us from wallowing. We learn how much alone is enough, and where it becomes too much to bear. Of course, pets are a huge benefit. Without them, I know I’d have crashed and burned a few times when life threw too many tough things at me, or gave me too much time alone.
many days would go by before someone even thought to check and see why I was so quiet? How many days would I be off social media before someone thought to ask why I hadn’t made a single peep?” If the times I’ve been sick for a few days, or simply boycotting social media are any indication, it could be a while.
The last month has been trying on pretty much every level; mentally, emotionally, spiritually, financially. You name it, and I’ve taken a hit directly or indirectly. I’ve shed buckets of tears, though primarily in the privacy of my own home with the cats my only comfort.
the successes and failures are your own. You get to keep the lessons for the failures without having someone else’s castigation added to the mix. When you fall on your face, it’s only you who has to get up, dust yourself off, look at what didn’t work, and try again with the new insight you’ve gained.
I’ve used the excuse: “I’m a writer and an introvert. I’m better off working alone” far too many times. I recognize it’s an excuse to be a hermit. Even more, I’m learning I don’t want to be a hermit all the time. I want to be around people and be part of a community. I want to let people see that I succeed sometimes and fail others, just like them. Besides, being a perpetual hermit is extremely unhealthy. Far too many psychopaths live in that world. I’d rather not be looked at through the same glass as someone whose moral compass hasn’t pointed to true North in a very long time, if ever.
after trying to convince myself I shouldn’t share my sad state with others, and reached a saturation point with Hallmark movies. The last one, alone has pushed me a little ways out of my funk to get a few things done I’d been avoiding for ages. I’d convinced myself once again that I wasn’t worthy, lacked the necessary experience, and didn’t want to do those things anyway.
There’s a time and a place to call “bullshit” on ourselves. I found mine when a friend knocked on my door on a cold, rainy night with a container of split pea soup. Her simple act reminded me how much my own simple acts mean to others. I realized it isn’t so much the what as it is the doing in the first place. Showing up is often the greatest gift of all, both for the giver and the receiver.
it, but my vibration is in the toilet. With each baby step I take; each proffered hand I accept, I leave the darkness a little further behind. The darkness is no longer the friend it once deceived me into believing. Instead, I reach towards the sunshine, the light of friendship, love, caring, and sharing.
I’m no stranger to grief. I’ve had enough opportunities in my life where it was not only appropriate but necessary. But I’m no stranger to suppressing or denying my grief either. When each of my parents died, I made thousands of excuses to keep going on, business as usual while I broke into a million little pieces inside. I convinced myself the grief wasn’t necessary and got in the way of doing the things I was supposed to. In a lot of ways, both my family and Society had trained me well—too well.
a place to dance. As stories are shared of celebrations, of countless marriages which came about because of meetings at that particular place, of families sharing, of connections that last for years, even when people move away; I realize not only for me, but for thousands of others, it became a home. We came together, some as friends, others as strangers, and became a family connected at the heart.
Even as so many communicate only by text message or social media, it’s been a place where cell phones are put down, if only for a few minutes, and connections are made on the dance floor, doing something that brings joy not only to the dancers, but to those on the sidelines watching.
We didn’t just lose people on November 7th. Even those we didn’t know well were familiar, comforting faces we saw every week. Some helped maintain order and kept the place friendly and the dance floor safe. Others were a smiling face that greeted us or served us food and drinks, raising our spirits no matter how the day had gone. No matter what role they played, they were familiar faces; people we’d 
come to know by sight, and who, in their own way, brought joy into the place by their very presence. But more, they were part of a family which shared in each others’ successes, commiserated when jobs or family were lost, celebrated birthdays, weddings, births, anniversaries…
Admittedly, it isn’t easy to reach out to people who are continually angry or depressed. They’re harder to be around, more difficult to love, and sometimes impossible to understand. Some isolate themselves, then blame their isolation on society, and rightfully so. Even in a family, you often have to fit in first before you can start showing your broken parts. Some people are so broken, they believe the only way they can hide those uncomfortable parts is by staying within their own four walls.
Subscribe via RSS
Recent Comments