Emotions…Where Are They?…

September 13, 2010

Well…if you are looking for some…they are right here. I have emotions swirling all through me. I can think about other things…and actually focus. In fact, I got some more photos up on my art blog. BUT…as soon as it comes to thinking about my mother…about my parents…the thoughts just kind of swirl around and I find myself suddenly fighting tears.

Now…quite frankly…I have been fighting tears off and on for quite some time. This just adds to it. I was working my way through some things and then this hit.

I don’t even really know what I am going to write here. I am just sort of letting it flow out.

I want to say…again…for the record…that forgiveness is not an issue with me. I do not hold grudges. I have never been a grudge holder…not even when growing up. I have, at times, struggled to work through hurt and anger and horror and a bunch of other emotions that I probably cannot even identify…but I do work through them…persistently.

I do not hate my parents. I recognize that they, too, are victims. We are the product of generational SRA. Granted…I have chosen…by the grace of G-d…to take a different path. I pray that they can find healing, too. I wish them no ill.

I have had to mourn the childhood I had. At some point, I realized that I also had to mourn the childhood I do NOT have. Now…I am facing the fact that my mother (and father) may die without our ever having had any real resolution or reconciliation. I have tried. Oh, how I have tried. I cannot pretend things did not happen. I have to keep healthy and safe boundaries.

I have reached out via email. The responses told me that nothing had really changed. The one time my mother seemed to get real with me, I rejoiced. I thanked her and then responded to what she wrote…hoping for a response. Thing is…apparently my response was not what she wanted. I did not just toe the party line and say “yes, ma’am”. “You are write, ma’am.”

What I feel does not matter to them. I am trying not to cry as I write this…only because…as usual…I am NOT alone! The tears come, but they are silent. I need the freedom to let the gut wrenching pain come out.

All that really matters is that I kept their grandson from them. Me…I am insignificant. It is all about him…and them. I don’t see keeping my son from them as a power thing. It is a safety issue…and also one of respect. I have been accused. I have been lied about. I have been abused. Yet…I have forgiven and loved and honored as best I could.

Forgiveness is a funny thing. My father accused me years ago of not forgiving him. Forgiving to him meant that I would allow my son to spend unsupervised time with him and my mother. No time alone with him…then I am not forgiving. What is funny, though, is that he has denied doing anything. If he has not done anything, what is there to forgive? Nothing makes sense in my family…but then that is the nature of cult families. Nothing is supposed to make sense. We are to always be kept off-balance.

The timing is really something, too. Although they don’t know it…or possibly they do…I don’t know…there are going to be people I don’t know coming to our property soon. They are going to build us something to live in…volunteers. This is already challenging me. I am not the strongest person socially. I really need to prepare myself for this. It takes a lot of emotional energy. And now THIS!

Cults are so into symbolism that I find myself even wondering if there was a significance to her choosing to write me on 9/11. I have NO idea at this point. I am in so much internal pain right now…without a good outlet in which to work on it. I pray for strength.


  1. I once heard, “…curses only have power over you if you believe in them…” Your family’s choosing to do things (like write to you on 9/11) is so typical of cult practices. But the question which comes to my mind is this: are they trying to infer that they were in charge of 9/11? It’s magical thinking to use that kind of crap on you. Turn away from it, girl. It’s another game (you called it straight–use of symbolism).

    I believe you are so much more than just a force that keeps your son from your folks. You are a force of freedom, of art, of poetry, and kindness. It’s important for you to know that your presence is valuable because of the ways in which you’ve shaped your life. Your parents got you here, but you’ve chosen to be the creative, faithful woman you are. And that’s big.

    Hugs and warm wishes,


    • Hi, Meredith,

      For me the symbolism would not be global, but personal and familial. You see…I have been accused of many things. So, the idea that I have destroyed/am destroying the family would have been the symbolism to me. I am not perfect, but neither are they.

      Still…sometimes it does not really seem to matter what I know in my head…it is what I know in my heart. I love my parents…in spite of. But I don’t think they love me. Oh, they probably do on some level…a level that is buried deep inside them because that is how you survive in the cult. You don’t allow emotional attachments. Love…not really. I have had to learn to love my parents as an adult. Somewhere inside is that child’s love that never really dies…at least in my case. Hope springs eternal…isn’t that how the saying goes?

      I know that I will never gain what I have lost, but it would be nice to have SOME kind of resolution before one or both of them dies. Ever the optimist…struggling to be the realist. I just cannot write people off until death no longer gives me an option. I see that as a positive thing…but it does not come without a price.

      Thanks for your support, Meredith

  2. I know what you mean about loving your parents. When my father died, I thought I would lose my mind. I was heartbroken. I don’t know my mother, so I never know what to say about that… but the mother I grew up with made it perfectly clear that I was not welcome in her life. Every day. And still, I wish her peace. She can’t be in my life because she is simply too toxic, but I love her. I will not go to her funeral, but I love her.

    I think it’s hard to grieve the loss of the parents you needed to have. It’s complicated, and it comes in stages for me.

    I know you will understand when I say that I am glad my dad is dead. I am glad. It doesn’t mean I have no love for him. It means that I know how… diseased he was. He was never going to be any other person, any other way, for any reason. He was who he was. And when I cut him out of my life, I did it with no remorse. But I loved him. And I know that. And I love him, now. And, I’m glad he’s dead.

    So it is with our human natures, I think. We love who we love because we are who we are, and we do not love for the same reason. That others choose to love or not to love us is something we do not control, nor should we try. But knowing that and being square with it are two very, very different things. And that’s when we walk with pain.

    I’m very empathetic about having strangers come into your space. Getting moved involved a lot of folks coming into my space… and it stressed me to the max. I was so fried by the last day I left without being present for the final inspection. I didn’t care whether I got my deposit back or not, at that point.

    Walking lightly beside you,


    • Yeah…I get what you are saying about your dad, Meredith. At some point, I will be glad when my parents are dead because there will be no more wondering. At that point, I will know there are no more chances.

      So many layers. So many complications of the heart. Life is not easy…but we will get through it…and out the other side.

      Thanks for walking beside me.

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