February is supposed to be the month of romance and of love. And I hope it is for the rest of you. For me, it’s looking like the month of healing and shadow work.
Today I was listening to my daughter Courtney cry and vent about the news this week that her sisters (my other daughters) have secretly talked with and met with my abusive ex-husband. To say we were both shattered by this news is an understatement. SHATTERED. Hurt, betrayed, grief-stricken. Our hearts are so heavy.
Knowing that my mother supported them in this endeavor and coldly snapped at Courtney that no one should have to live their lives based on her feelings and if she has a problem with it to go get some therapy, devastated her even further. It hurt me too but honestly, I was not surprised that this came from my mother as this is how I’ve always known her to be which is why I have so much baggage from her.
Courtney replied, “I can’t believe I am being attacked because I’m hurt over the fact that you want to reconcile with the man that beat our mother for our entire childhoods and then went to prison for raping me.”
As I listened to her crying this morning she said, “I’ve already lost my brother and now, just like that, the entire rest of my family is gone. Every one of my siblings and my grandparents are gone. It’s just me and my mom now. Suddenly we have a family of three. You, me, and Anthony (her husband).”
I cried with her and reminded her that I will always be here. That this all started with just me and her, figuring out life together and I will be there until my last breath. I trust that healing will come, as it always does. If it is your intention to heal, the healing will happen.
But for now, this month of love will not be focused on the romantic love typically reserved for February, but instead will focus on the quiet self-love that is necessary for the healing. Healing and growth tend to happen without fanfare. They happen in the quiet moments of solitude, of journaling, sleep, meditation, contemplation. It happens slowly, moment after moment, tear after tear.
As I shared in the FB group today, as I’ve been quietly asking spirit for help figuring out what to do with these feelings…feelings of betrayal and heartbreak toward my two daughters. Activated PTSD crashing all around me. WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?????????? Was my silent but desperate cry to the universe. I repeatedly was shown an image in my mind of King David sitting down at the table to eat.
Now, you all know I’m not a Christian and don’t care about the Bible, but I still know it well and this is what spirit used to help give me perspective. If you don’t know the story from 2 Samuel 12 about King David losing his infant son, the backstory is: King David fell in love with a woman he saw bathing named Bathsheba but she was married. The king made sure her husband was sent into battle and instructed his men to make sure the man died. When he was killed, King David married Bathsheba and she became pregnant. When the baby was born, God struck the baby with illness as payment for the king’s sin.
Verses 16 and 17 say, “16 David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackclothon the ground. 17 The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.”
On the 7th day the baby died and the King quietly got up, took a bath, changed his clothes and sat down to eat. People were confused by this and he responded that it’s all a moot point now. The baby is gone and the damage is done. His actions and stress wouldn’t change anything at this point. So, he was laying down the sword, and was going to heal and quietly move on with life.
So, when spirit kept showing me the King sitting down to eat, I get it. I feel numb and quiet. I feel like the damage is done. For 21 years I have stressed and done everything in my power to keep him away from my children. I have prayed and pleaded with God to keep them safe and not let them be found by him. And instead, they found him and opened the door to him and allowed the wolf into the house.
I have so much grief that I am stilled and silenced. There is nothing to do but to quietly gather myself, go take a bath, change my clothes, and sit down to eat. Quietly healing and moving on with my life. I lay down the heavy burden of carrying their safety because it is all a moot point now. The damage is done, and the chips will fall where they will.
Now, I’m left to figure out how to heal from what feels like the deepest Grand Canyon of betrayal by two of the girls I love most in the world. For now, I will comfort Courtney. The tiny baby girl who made me a mama. I am all she has right now, and I will be by her side. Both of us sitting in our big pile of ashes, with faith that God will turn them into beauty.
Here is a blog I wrote about Courtney back in 2007 that I would like to share.
JUST STAY.
The wind was bitter cold blowing against our tear-stained faces. We were standing in the middle of a January-in-Cleveland snow hugging each other on the sidewalk in front of the counseling center trying to make some kind of ammends after the mess that had been our week. I’ve seen so many things. I’ve travelled so many roads. I have so much life under my belt for my short 34 years that it’s easy for me to look at this situation and start to rationalize some things and to just have a basic faith that it’s going to be ok. But she doesn’t. She’s looking at this with her 15-year-old brain and it scares her and it changes who she is. I hate that. She’s so much like me. She’s passionate and she’s impulsive. She’s dramatic and likes to think out loud…alot of times instantly regretting what just came out of her mouth. And like me she’s also prone to depression…and that scares me. Will she do something to hurt herself? Will she run away? That’s why standing in the middle of the cold sidewalk I held her and reminded her that “we can get through anything…it’s always been you and me Courtney…I was the very first person to ever see your face and I will be the last one standing there with you in the end…I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON YOU.”
I was only 18 years old and thought I was grown. I had been married for almost two years, I lived 1200 miles away from home and I had just had a baby…what a journey I had before me. What lessons still to come. But here I was with this tiny little girl all pink from laying under the bili lights (jaundice), IV’s in her arm for the antibiotics (she was septic from being born with group b strep). I sat night after night in the nursery all alone…just me and her. Occassionally a doctor would mosey through and stand behind my rocking chair handing me a tissue, the nurses were horrible…i won’t even go there…but in the still of the night it was just me and her. I would watch her…and cry…pray…and cry…stare at her face while begging her to nurse…and cry. And I would just look at her and think…I know you don’t feel good, and I know this is going to be hard…but I’m here for you…you and me…I won’t give up on you…JUST STAY…please don’t go. Get mad…get loud…just stay.
It’s amazing that 15 years later I’m still silently whispering the same things to her. I know this is hard Courtney…I know this process doesn’t feel good…but I’m here for you…you and me…I won’t give up on you…lets do whatever it takes to get better…just stay.
I have no words.