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
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.
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.