Eat. Pray. Love

A broken man taught me how to love; an Army man, who thrived being in control, a man who grew up without options, a man who missed all his children's firsts because he was serving America.

Early on in the self-love journey, we learn that our parents, grandparents and ect; did not have what we have, both materialistically and emotionally; and so the first step of healing is forgiving them for not knowing how to love us properly.

Sitting with yourself and acknowledging the lack within, the lack that you've tried to fill for years, the lack that has laughed on your face and broken you down, time and time again: that lack is deeper than the ocean.

As I ate my emotions, as I prayed on my heart, memories of the most traumatic time in my life flooded my brain; these thoughts had one thing in common, they were all memories of my mother's face at different times after she was almost murdered: my mother's face in the hospital, my mother's face in court staring at the coward that almost ended her life out of jealousy, my mother's face when she saw me after months of being apart, my mother's face as she re-learned how to move her arm in therapy, my mother's face when she regained custody of my younger brothers, my mother's face when we started our new beginning, her smile spoke to me like a poem speaks to a poet.

Those memories didn't only helped me heal, they helped me understand that my mother fought for our family, she fought even when she couldn't move, being reminded of that kind of effort was a game changer for me, because instead of viewing my childhood as traumatic, I started viewing it as a war that my mother won for me, a war that I saw from afar, a war I never had to fight myself because she loved me, because she needed me, because I was her kryptonite; this realization made me cry for so many reasons, but the most important one is that this realization was critical to the healing progress because it allowed me to forgive myself for being so harsh on my mother and also on my inner child.

I've never spoken about my sperm donor, because I never thought I had to explain the disconnect; throughout this journey I also had to come to terms with the things that made me a little cold to love; when I was 14 I reached out to my sperm donor for the first time, he was so drunk he couldn't even remember my name or my birthday, which just happened to be the reason I was calling him for, on my 16th birthday I wrote him a letter that I never got a response to, my sperm donor was the first men to ghost me.

After that I disconnected completely; never needing an explanation, never needing him to do a thing, even while I was getting raped and beaten by my step father, I never reached out to the men that was supposed to be my protector, I defended my damn self.

Most of my family, particularly my brothers have a great relationship with him, and I am happy that they had that father figure to become men themselves; two different experiences out of one individual can destroy relationships from the start, and so my older brothers and I have little to no relationship at all.

My first experience with Love was tinted the was to say the least, my mother with as much love and admiration that I hold for her now, didn't always put her children first which in many ways scarred me, it introduced me to Love harshly, it nurtured this "not enough" mentality, it made me see myself as "unworthy of" for so long, that when I finally met Love, I didn't recognized it. My grandfather, though in battle with himself found a way to lead me, to rescue me from the dark, he never knew about the horror I lived at home, but he always brought me peace, even when I was openly bleeding.

The question, " Why didn't he fight for me?" was never in my head, I understood that he was incapable of loving me, protecting me, leading me and so a greater men who fought for a second chance at being a dad took the challenge and raised a woman that gave everything and more to herself, a woman who found the light within herself in a journey some people take for granted.

Today I have not only being working at a relationship with my mother, myself but also a relationship with my inner child; she needs reassurance now, she needs affirmations, she needs actions, she fights every single day for a chance at love, she cries when she is frustrated because she doesn't understand love, she shuts down when someone gets too close, and she still wishes that someone would see the naked version of her heart, the one that is not guarded, the one that is not tinted; she still wishes to be love without fearing hurt.

This journey is not about the end goal, this journey is about healing while learning, while being a lesson to others that need awakening, this journey is about being compassionate, understanding that Love is not "one fits all" love is the hardest thing I ever had to do, but it is still the best part that I have yet to color in on my canvas.

XOXO

Lucy