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Shifting Perceptions

by Rebekkah 7 months ago in parents

Sometimes, it is your own perception creating the rifts. Its time to see the world, with a new pair of eyes.

Shifting Perceptions
Photo by Simon Rae on Unsplash

For as long as I can remember, I have felt alone. Whomever I am with, whether it be my immediate and extended family, a friend or a group of us hanging out. It always feel the same, most of my life I have thought that it may have been because I was an introverted lonely child, zoning in and out of reality, buried in my fantasy world, that castle in the sky. I used to blame my parents a lot, thinking that they never cared about what happened to me, my parents divorce rocked my world and suddenly the one world I had known, split in two. My dad stepping out to go live his best life, he is a lovely man and I am very proud to be called his daughter, I like to say we have a stronger bond due to being born on the same day.

My child brain couldn’t comprehend it at the time, blind from the stress, trauma. Words and opinions clinging to me, yet they are not my own, worn as armor. My mother through her own hurt unknowingly dressed me this armor herself, through projections and spraying words of her own anguish and suffering. These would result in family fallouts, in both the inner and outer circles.

Eenie Meenie miney mo-ing between my parents, deciding whom to live with wasn’t difficult at the time. It was decided that i would live with mum during the week and go to dads most weekends. It was a content life, mum was doing her best to keep her child, 3 horses, Guniea Pigs and our dog, safe, fed and happy. Unfortunately, however it all fell apart when I told her that I had been abused by the garbage bag juice of a person, who was staying with us at the time.

Struck in disbelief Mum decided that it was best for us to pack up and go, and by that mean we would be technically homeless for the next two or so years. Travelling around, staying at horse shows and campsites, with the occasional wave of a couch surf. It was fine, however its left my adult self-wanting to have a place to have a grounded place to call home.

I have recently moved back in with my Mother after Nine years of flying the coop. Coming back ‘home’ more or so I have always wanted to know why this all happened. Why we were homeless and why couldn’t she do better for her child? This caused a loathing for my mother; I was drowning in hatred.

Talking with her, came to find out that she could not remember all the things, that she had said to me. Whether it be about my weight, what I ate, my friends, partners, behaviors, choices and the way she had spoken to me about my father was rather enraging. I had always perceived it as a lack love me, that I was the inferior choice, as I had always observed myself to be. Remembering all the bad times but never the good, memories lost to the sands of time.

Sitting down with her and really looking at her, human to human. I see that everything she did, she did to the best of her ability and what she thought was best at that time. Seeing it much clearly now and out of the parent /child dynamic, that women had a whole lot on her plate, looking like an all you can eat buffet. As she was fighting her own demons, suicidal thoughts, poverty, co-parenting, work, animals and most importantly her own childhood wounds that are now in plain sight, remained denude.

My mother’s love towards me was just a reflection and glimpse into the way she was raised, this in turn, was filtered down to me and why there are so many ‘generational curses’. Through my own Kintsugi, I am now seeing my Mother through new eyes, a human being that lacked a mother figure of her own, acting out of her hurt and pain, wanting to give and receive the love she never experienced herself, trying to figure this world out all on her own. All while playing the role of two parents.

Seeing her more as a friend and fellow human, rather than a parent and authority figure. Unearthing the treasures and renewing our lost bond. Longings to reconnect and heal together have been getting stronger as I age. I yearn to cook with her, hear stories about those childhood adventures, crafts, knowledge attained and handed down. Currently I am learning to embrace our similar gestures and ways of expression, that tell the world that, we were once one.

Her strength throughout my life and her own has been a pillar of hope for myself and many others. Providing, while her world was falling apart around her. Sacrificing her own happiness, dreams and goals so we could survive and have a chance in this unforgiving world. I hope to keep strengthening our maternal bond, forgiving, healing and surrendering so we can nurture each other into wholeness. Stopping this ‘generational curse’ with love, kindness and compassion towards self and others to heal the world and its people.

If parents did not make mistakes, we young uns would not have anything to learn from. My mother has made a few mistakes yet have not we all? if we take off the illusions and masks, we can see the route of everyone’s pain, love. Our main reason for being is to give and receive love, yet here we are spewing out hurt onto everyone we encounter, due to love we did not receive at/in some stage of our lives. Its clearer now and I feel ashamed I thought badly of my mother once, she did not know her worth or how to give and receive love authentically, she never meant to hurt me in the crossfire of her own internal war.



A writer and lover of poetry, fiction, short stories and creative writing styles.

If you enjoy my written creations and/or would like to support me further, you can donate a coffee to me here; https://ko-fi.com/bekkle :)

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