Chapter 27

Duality Part II

Gosh! Doesn’t time fly? A whole month since Duality Part I!

Thank you all so much for staying with me.

There’s been some more beautiful inner healing going on; both within myself and others who have started finally noticing what the Universe has been trying to tell them for a long time……. ‘Your pain is real. It’s your time to heal. To See’. But we are a stubborn lot. We spent a lifetime devising incredible complex ways of running from and not toward the Darkness. But we can’t run forever. It will ALWAYS catch us if we don’t catch it first; and if we don’t? Then addiction, relapse, suicide attempts, self-harm, depression, anxiety, we end up in a shop doorway begging with no one to break bread with; we forgo our chance of genuine human connection and worse still, we hurt others including our innocent children. I’m not talking the normal day to day ‘doing’ day. I’m talking connecting at Soul level. We become genuinely curious again. One where they feel finally Seen, understood……..and above all Loved. It’s only when we let the Love in for ourselves by choosing to heal that we finally Feel a depth of Love that is indescribably beautiful. We See their pain because finally we can meet them at their level not the superficial level set by us. We can no longer turn a blind eye. We listen and they can, if lucky enough, believe in themselves and finally feel heard. They can go on to start their healing process at a much younger age.

Three…

My daughter’s truth:

Another truth (my son’s):

It’s really very simple; if you want to know how someone feels, you ask them. But you don’t just ask them in the usual way. Not when it’s this important. You ask them in a very special kind of way; the See-Feel way.

My son had had many losses over the past several years; his maternal grandmother and grandfather (who he wasn’t close to), his dog ‘O’ and a relationship with a young lady (L).

His grandmother divorced his grandfather many years ago. She was to never trust a man again and died never understanding the abuse she received from her husband. She was an abused child too. The unfavored sister of two.

Grandma:

I cannot remember whether it was before or after reading his sister’s text that I asked him to do something for me; to close his eyes and think of himself with his grandmother. The conversation went something like this:

Me: ‘What do you feel?’

Him: ‘Warm. Cared for.’

Me: ‘Why do you feel warm and cared for? What else do you feel [son’s name]? Feel it…..’

Him: ‘I feel loved’.

Me: ‘Yes you do. She loves you very much. She always did.’

There maybe some amongst the audience that feel that love can come in many forms; to those I say NO IT CANNOT. You love or you don’t. You feel or you don’t. You abuse or you don’t abuse. You nurture or you don’t. Babies are born with the See-Feel. They know when they are not loved.

Doing is not being.

It’s really that simple.

I didn’t get on very well with his grandmother. She was a devout Christian and we differed greatly in our view of the world, but I always felt enormous gratitude at the love she showed my children. They both had a grandmother that loved them wholeheartedly.

Me: ‘I’m with you ok? For this next part…’

Him: ‘Ok’

Me: ‘I want you to think of yourself with your mom now ok? Think of any time around the same age. Keep your eyes closed. What do you feel?’

Him: ‘I feel nothing. Just cold. I don’t feel any love from her. Ohhhh…..I never have.’

Me: ‘That’s right. You don’t FEEL it.’

I held his hand.

Me: ‘And who comforted who? When she died…who?’

Him: ‘I comforted mom'.’

Me: ‘And who comforted [son’s name]?’

Him: ‘No one.’

He would take himself off to a bench at midnight and smoke a joint looking at the stars. My lost little boy in a man’s body.

‘O’:

I remember my son and I were on a 25 mile bike ride years ago. He rode behind me on a tag-a-long and all I heard for the whole time was a constant ‘when are we going back?’. He was so excited. It was new puppy day.

When ‘O’ died this year, he was devastated. There was little to no comforting from his mother. Instead she bought another. A very expensive one within weeks with no time to grieve. She put him on Facebook for the adoration from her fans and takes him out of his cage when she feels like it, or when people pop over.

‘L’:

‘L’ was my son’s third girlfriend (that I know of). He was a caretaker to all. Each had trauma. Each experienced family abuse.

Within the last couple of years, ‘L’, my son, daughter and their mother and I were out at a restaurant. I remember my ex on three occasions raising an empty wine glass up to the light, donning her reading glasses, whilst turning the glass very very slowly. Complaining made her feel special and superior. My children would just roll their eyes.

‘It’s just mom.’ they’d think.

I asked ‘L’ something about her University course during the meal. My son replied for her within a few seconds as she stumbled over her words. I knew at that moment what that meant.

‘I asked [girlfriend’s name]’ I quipped immediately.

Before Canada he text his now ex girlfriend. He came downstairs looking like he’d just lost a million sterling. Only it was worse…..or so he thought.

Him: ‘I text [girlfriend] and she replied saying that she never wants to hear from me again. That she’s taken a long time to recover from the relationship and that I was abusive.’

My response wasn’t what he wanted to hear but he certainly needed to;

Me: “Fantastic! Good on her! She faced her fear and told you what you had done. That you had abused her. That you cannot contact her again. She needed to be able to do that and make sure you fucking honour it! You have to think of her only at this moment. Not use her again to make you feel better. You're coercively abusive to those that have been abused. The easy targets.’

Was I controlling? Maybe. Or maybe I was finally being the parent my children have always deserved. It’s all about intent. Intent my daughter cannot see.

He took it like a man who wants to heal. He chose Love and courage over fear.

I told him I will always love him and promised him that we would get through this.

I am so unbelievably proud of him.

As I have written in the earlier chapters, there’s a hierarchy amongst abusers. Both my son and I couldn’t actually tolerate inflicting the fear driven tactic of coercive abuse (which perpetrators are driven by) for too long in our lives because of our empathy. Granted it wasn’t enough unfortunately to stop committing the acts in our early years, and people got badly hurt by our hand; the bruise it left on our Soul meant, eventually, we’d inevitably go with someone who is of ‘General rank’ in the abuse war because then the shame is different and manageable and more importantly, familiar.

Control:

My daughter mentions control a few times in her text to her brother. His ‘mother’s little bit of control’ and his ‘control in his bedroom’.

It’s for my son to write about the control and abuse he experienced throughout his life and the past 13 years in particular, if he still wishes to. My part included.

When I was around seven and upwards, people would compliment me on how perfectly tidy my bedroom was. Indeed, it was meticulous. Too meticulous. I still do it today in certain areas of my house, like the kitchen table where I line things up perfectly again and again. But as I write this, I’ve realised that has lessened hugely. Bravo!

Healing is a wonderful thing!

When you are an abused child, where Self is quashed, it’s common place to keep control of at least something in our lives. Something that also becomes a safe haven. My son spent most of his adult life alone in his bedroom controlling every aspect of his room to perfection. Sometimes this wouldn’t be enough though and his mother would just open his bedroom door and switch his lights off whilst he’d go about his business. No knocking. No words. Just irritation and bitterness. No boundaries.

You're not allowed those in a narcissistic household.

See you soon.