How Do I Feel, a Webinar and Random Thoughts

That is the question that has haunted me most of my life. How do I feel? Most of the time I was clueless as to how I really felt. Taught all of my life to deny my feelings, I had no idea how to even really identify them…unless, of course, they were felt intensely. Anything that was not felt intensely, forget it. I had no idea what I was feeling. And intense feelings were verboten. Stuff. Hide. Deny. But do NOT feel…and, if you do…NEVER show it!

It took me a long time to get to the point of beginning to recognize feelings. One thing that helped me was locating lists of feeling words on the internet. As I looked over the lists, I found that I started to relate to them. Little by little, I started to connect what I was “feeling” to the words. I have used those word lists to do art projects to help get my feelings out of the deep well inside and up to my conscious mind.

I need to locate those lists on the internet again for a webinar I will be doing in August. As a non-artist, I will be showing how I used art in my healing and word lists are a part of that. I want to give the people who come to the webinar all the resources I can to help them.

So…how do I feel…right now? I am not sure. Ha! How is that for a typical answer? At the moment, I think I have reached a place of basic contentment. I am OK with my world. How long that will last…who knows? I am ready for my class today, so I guess that qualifies as “confident”? “Prepared”? Is “prepared” a feeling? I think maybe it is. I feel “ready”!

I am getting my hair cut today, so I feel “anticipation”. And, maybe, a bit “nervous”. I don’t have much hair and it is difficult to do much of anything with it. I am trying something a little bit different.

How have I been feeling lately? Well…I have been busy…trying to get some things done.  And that has left me feeling a bit “frustrated” at times. My CPU is not fast enough (big enough?) for the programs I need to run. Having to run only one or two programs at a time for this multi-tasking woman is frustrating. However, I am grateful to have my laptop and to be able to run them at all!

My living situation causes me to be frustrated at times…well…sometimes it is frustration, but mostly I think it is more like “resignation”. I have to remember (and accept) that there are things I simply cannot do in this environment. Looking ahead, hopefully our situation will change over the summer. That will be great…if it happens.

If it happens, it will make it easier for me to get photos of the artwork I will need to share in the webinar. If it does not, I may be scrambling to do it elsewhere. Timing can be everything. I hope we are not moving during webinar time. Yikes! So, I stay in today. While the future is floating around in my mind somewhere, I do not focus on it. I pay it just enough attention so that I will be prepared and ready when the times comes to do the webinar, but not enough attention that I begin to fret over things that are beyond my control. And, if I need to, I can put the webinar off.

I am actually doing pretty well for this time of year. As my birthday approaches, I am sure it will start to hit more. My birthday is the anniversary of my sister’s death…a death that may have been a warning to me. And, sometimes, I wonder if she is even really dead. It did not look like her and my father would not allow me to be alone with her. I know they can stage those things. Did they? Do they have her hidden somewhere? I hate to even think of it. So, I pray for her…just in case.

Anyway, these are random thoughts, some attempted expressions of feelings, a bit of an update. What I feel can change on a moment’s notice. So, I am going to post this before what I feel changes…again.

My Sister

My sister had a brave heart. She was beautiful and childlike. She was a fighter who would not give up. She was trapped…caught in an unseen web that was too sticky for her to break free from. They had her where they wanted her.

My sister ran away from one cult family right into the arms of another…but she didn’t know. Neither of us did. At that time, we were both amnesic to our true history.

I wonder…did she ever figure it out before she died? Did she finally remember her childhood abuse…the younger years? Did she remember “everything”…or just the minor “stuff” she used as an excuse to run away?

My sister kept trying…in recovery and out of it. I remember her telling me how she had to fight with the recovery people to get her a counselor. She kept saying she needed one, but they did not want to give it to her…not even in those fancy, high class, expensive recovery places.

Was it because it was being paid for by his parents? After all…counseling might mean that she would remember something…something important…something damning…about them. Maybe she would finally wake up to the truth about her boyfriend and his parents…the family she lived with. Or…maybe she wanted a counselor because she already had an inkling of the truth? I will never know in this life.

This is the time of year that I especially think of my sister…as her birthday approaches in a couple of days. And I wonder about her death…and sometimes, I wonder if she even really died…or if they have her holed up somewhere. It didn’t look like her. And my father would not leave me alone with her. If he had…what would I have done? I don’t know. We weren’t supposed to touch the body…but I think I would have. It did NOT look like her. I had seen her within the last year.

My father said it did, but he had not seen her in years…so far as I know. But then…it is not exactly like I came from a truthful family. Ha! “Family”. What is THAT supposed to be? Not the caricature I grew up with.

It’s funny how everything seemed to be so good…on the outside looking in. All the memories I concocted about growing up seemed so OK…yet I was so not OK.  Stories my mother told me were woven through my mind with photos from the family albums. Childhood. Sure…that was my childhood…only…it wasn’t.

I remember the day I suddenly realized that it was all a lie…a fantasy. It has been so long now that I cannot remember if it was before or after I realized that I could not remember growing up with my sister. It is as if she did not exist…yet I know for fact she was there…in the same house with me.

So many things are buried in the mists of amnesia with a tiny flash of a snippet here and there that blazes through so fast that I can barely figure out what just went by. Yet…those flashes ARE there. And I do have the photographs. My sister was there. Some of the photos I took…yet, I can barely see anything beyond the photos themselves. Whatever I see is more like a surreal picture in my mind.

She died on my birthday. At least…I am told she died. I saw what was supposed to be her body…but it sometimes haunts me to this day. I know she was becoming “inconvenient”. I would not put it past them to agree behind closed doors while pretending to hate each other to me. Two families…warring for her body. It was sick. It was insane. It was my sister.

I will never get the chance to get to know her. Her living…except for the few times in the later years when I finally did meet up with her…is buried deep within. What I do remember makes me wonder if I really want to remember the rest. I don’t know. Maybe I should just create a life with her just like I created a life of my own? No…I want to honor her by remembering the truth…if I can.

Happy Birthday, Sis

I don’t know, sis, who is celebrating your birth…or your life. Maybe I am the only one on this planet…besides the One who so lovingly created you with His own hands.

Oh, dear heart, I want you to know that you are loved…so very loved. I miss you. I wish we could have gotten to know one another better…in more positive ways…outside of the sucky family dynamic that we both had to live with.

I sit here today and think about you. I think of how hard you fought…how hard you tried to win. I guess some might say that you never did win…that you lost. But you know what? I don’t think of you that way. I like to think of you as being in our heavenly Abba’s arms and away from all the horrors you knew in this life…of winning.

In some ways, I envy you. You are where I long to be…but it is not my time yet. You are beyond the pain of this life. I have to believe that. I have to see you in the loving arms of our Abba, protected forever and being loved as you have always deserved to be loved in this life.

I hope you know now just how much I really loved you…and I still do. I wish I could have shown it better in your life, but I know that you now understand why I could not. Our parents. Toward the end, they were living with me and I found myself fighting for my own life. Maybe the plan was to take us both out…I don’t know. I just know that I love you and I am so sorry for all the ways that I was not able to be there for you as I should have been and for all the ways I inflicted pain into your life. I am sorry that I could not rise above the family dynamic for you…or even for myself. Maybe that inability helped us to keep us alive. I don’t know. You don’t have to think about it now. You are beyond that.

Gosh, I wish I could see you…talk to you. Ask you what you remember. Were you as amnesic in your memories of me as I am to you??? I want to remember more of our life together…yet, perhaps it is a blessing that I don’t…given what I DO remember. I don’t know.

I just know that I sit here crying…thinking of you…wondering about you…praying that you truly are OK. I hope they have not just faked it all and hidden you away from me…out of fear that we might, together, reach the truth and gain freedom from them. I pray for you, in case you are still here, sis. If you are here, keep fighting, wherever you are. Keep fighting, sis and never give up!

But I hope that you are resting…in His Shalom/peace…in His arms.

Various Thoughts on My Life Right Now

Things have been feeling a little crazier than usual around here. I suppose it could have to do with contacting my parents…via email. Not sure. I am processing things they have written…and not written. My mother tried to lay a guilt trip on me, butI am not buying into it. My father, although he is the one who finally responded to my test emails from the middle of last year, apparently does not want to communicate with me. His responses were one and two word answers with no subject line or anything to even indicate what question he was answering. Fine.

He has never admitted what he has done…well, what he says he does not remember doing. I guess it is kind of difficult to admit to something you don’t remember. However, he could at least express concern over the fact that his daughter remembers these things. I don’t think he really cares. He expresses no interest in me whatsoever. The last communications we had years ago, he accused me of all sorts of things.

As for my mother, I am not sure where she is coming from. She worded things rather strangely. Is she trying to set off programming? Possibly. Or maybe she is just trying to be different? Perhaps she is just walking on eggshells, but I don’t really sense any love or true caring coming from her, either. Oh, well.

I suspect it is still all about my son. Who cares about me? I am just the one in between them and him. *sigh* Do we ever stop wishing that our parents really loved us and that we had a normal childhood? I mean, on the surface, we can think we have it handled, but deep down inside…is it really?

I was supposed to have t tomorrow, but I canceled it since hubs only worked a half day today. Apparently, this is the time of year when things start slowing down with the kind of work he does. I just could not justify spending the money, even though it was a discounted rate. I pushed it off for two more weeks, but I don’t really know if it will make any difference in our financial situation. We may be just as broke. And quite frankly, I am just not sure how comfortable I am with him anymore. I don’t know. He does not really understand SRA. Things just feel weird between him and I and I am unable to explain why. It is probably just me, but I really should at least email him and tell him how I feel….even if I can’t really put it into words.

I really wish I could find a pastor or someone like that to work with. Someone who understands SRA and DID. Is there someone like that in our area? I don’t know. I guess I would just have to start calling around to find out. Then again, if they said they understood…would I even trust them? Dare I trust them? I really think I mostly just need someone to bounce things off of…someone who understands. It does not need to be a therapist or professional, but it sure would help if they would be accepting and understanding.

I wrote a couple of poems. That always feels good. One is about longing for spring and the other is about dissociation.

My sister’s birthday is this month. She has been dead for almost 8 years now. It still effects me when I think of her. I guess being in contact with my parents is kind of…hmmm…not sure I have a word for it to explain the connection between being in contact with my parents and her birthday coming up. When I think of her, I think of her death. I think of the timing and of the weirdness of it. Sometimes I start to get in touch with being angry about it.

I really need the time, space and privacy to do art work. I know I can go to the church and use an empty room. However, that involves about a 20 plus minute drive each way, plus gas and planning. Still, the offer is open. I don’t know. It can be hard to plan being in the right frame of mind. Plus, someone still has to keep an eye on my son. I don’t know. I guess it is possible. I have to think about it. I know that a lot can be expressed and worked through with art. I also want to get back into doing collages and things on my pc. Time. Time. Time. I need more time.

Rambling Thoughts About My Sis and Dreams

I still think about my sister off and on.

I am now to the point of finally being able to look at what our relationship might have been like had we not been in an abusive cult family. What would she have been like? What would I have been like? Would we have enjoyed the close sister companionship that I see others enjoying?

It is not a matter of living in the world of “what if”. I think it is valid to think about how things could have been different and to hope for something better to come. Of course, that something better with her will not happen in this world. I have to wait for the world to come.

So, while I am still here…maybe it would not hurt to imagine what our relationship will be like in heaven. Will we giggle together? Will we “ooh” and “ahhh” over the beauty we see around us? Will we show one another butterflies and other beautiful creatures that we see? Will she run up to me all excited because she has found something she wants to show me? Will I wrap my arms around her and give her a warm and loving embrace? So unlike… *tears*

I’m sorry, sis. I wish I had been a better big sister. I wish I had been given the opportunity to be a better big sister. I wish we had been raised in a different family and environment. I wish…

But wishes mean nothing. They are just old dreams that fall to the ground like dead leaves in the Autumn. They are nothing…only meant to be trampled into the ground where they will rot away into nothing. Yet, even in the rottenness, they fertilize and feed a new generation…one that will have nothing to do with the dreams that could not be. They will be encouraged…and spurred onward toward living their dreams…real dreams…dreams that are possible because they are not “cult”.

Those are my rambling thoughts today.

Dear Sis

Dear Sis,

It was 7 years ago today that, while I was regaining our true family history, while some of the walls of amnesia were being torn down within me, that you lost your earthly life. I wish we could have had the opportunity to build a better relationship…one not filled with fear and suspicion and parental and group interference.

When I first started trying to reach out to you, you were like a stranger to me. I felt no connection to you whatsoever…and that really bothered me. You are my sister. I should feel SOME kind of connection with you. Yet, I did not. And as I looked back into my very spotty growing up memories, I was stunned to suddenly realize that I could not remember living in the same house with you while growing up. Look as I might, all I could get was a couple of memories…just really quick flashes…the one barely discernible and the other only a minute of two at best.

Yet, you were my sister. Even though life was a struggle for me and even though I was very shy, I just could not let this continue. I really felt an obligation, even if only because I was your sister, to reach out to you. So, it started. I did not understand, then, why you were so suspicious of me. Now I am pretty sure I know why.

Over the years we got to meet at different times and I kept trying to bring all of us as a family together. I did not “know” then what I know now. I did not remember the truth of our family history. I know now that we were both being accessed; but then, I was clueless. I am sorry for pushing you so hard on that.

Oh, Sis, I know you were trying to break free when you ran away. Did you realize what you were running TO? I doubt it. Did you ever regain YOUR memories? Did you ever figure out that your boyfriend and his family were the same as our family? Did you ever remember the rituals and the incest? I hope you never did, hon. I hope you never did.

I remember you telling me that you started to drink at 12, before your boyfriend ever came into the picture. That is significant because Mom would always blame your boyfriend and his family for your running away…as if you needed any outside excuse. I wanted to run away so badly so many times…but just could not. I wish you could have run to a truly safe place. But then, they would never have allowed that, would they?

You must have known something on some level because I remember when you asked me to take you to a counseling appointment one day you did not want me to tell them. You were adamant about it…almost to the point of making me swear I would not tell them. I did not understand it then. Now…I get it.

There were things about that family, especially about your boyfriend, that I tried to get you to see, but you just would not see. It makes sense. For you to see could have put you in danger. I don’t know how you survived as long as you did.

You fought bulimia and alcoholism for years. Drinking since 12. Bulimia since sometime before you were 17. You were living on borrowed time, my precious sis. I remember how it broke my heart to hear about your living on the streets at times due to the alchohol…of the ways that you got hurt out there. I was touched and honored that you shared with me how you had miscarried a baby in the restroom of the pizza parlor where we were meeting. *tears*

I write this to you with so much love in my heart. It was a love that I had to work for. I had to find it because they had worked so hard to keep it from happening, both when we were young and again as adults. Grrrrrr! I am angry, sis…for you…for me…for us…and all they stole from us. It was not fair! It was not right!

I keep writing here to you. Then I take a break. Then I come back and write more. And so it goes…back and forth…as I reflect on what I wish I could say to you. I am so sorry, sis. I wish I had understood more back then. But I also have to realize the understanding probably would have put us both in danger. *sigh*

You had two groups vying for control over you. Me…I was just an alliance between two groups…who also vied for control in their own way. We were both pawns…used and abused. Did you ever figure that out, sis? Did the memories ever start to leak over? Or maybe it was because of memories that you started to drink in the first place? Or that made it so hard for you to get and stay sober? I don’t know. You never told me. I never got a chance to talk to you about what I remembered because you lost your earthly life while I was remembering.

I remember how hard you fought for sobriety. You just kept going back after every time you went out. You would not give up! I really admired that about you, sis. Did you know that? Did I ever tell you? I really hope that I did.

I was given two different stories about what led to you being taken to the hospital with what supposedly turned out to be a toxic mix of alcohol and meds. Was my mother told the same story…and then she lied to me? Or was she lied to by your boyfriend’s mother. I don’t know. Neither story makes much sense to me.

You know, sis, the way his mother told it, you suicided. Oh, she did not use the word, but she pretty much spelled it out. Thing is…if you did, it is also clear from her words that you were set up for it. Her own words condemn that family!

Regardless of which story is true…and it may be neither…what they describe makes me believe that you were set up to die, whether you did it alone or with help. You were expendable, sis…to them. But you weren’t to me! *tears* They could not just let you go and get some real help.

I remember how you fought with the recovery people to get you some real counseling. You had to convince them that you needed it. That makes no sense to me. I know they were paying for an expensive rehab. Counseling should have been part of it. You should not have had to fight for any of it. But then, it was all about control, wasn’t it, sis? You know what I mean. They had to find ways to control us. They certainly could not have us talking now, could they? Maybe that is why our mother and father were going after my son? So they would have something to hold over me to keep me quiet? I know they wanted me out of the way. But it did not work! Was the group trying to eliminate both of us at the same time? Did they get to you because they could not get to me? Were they afraid that I might help you in some way? That we might confirm things to each other? So many questions.

But you, sis, what were you thinking in those last days and hours? What were you feeling? I know you were in a lot of heart pain. I know you kept thinking you were all bad and they were all good. Were you beginning to see the truth? Did you become dangerous? Or were you maybe getting close to becoming free? To breaking loose? Of course, they could never allow that! I wish you had felt the freedom to call me.

I had put up boundaries with you because it broke my heart to talk to you. I regret that now. Did you feel abandoned by me in the end? Oh, God, I hope not! I hope that you know how much I love you. As I recall, his mother did say something about you knowing I loved you. She did hold that out to me…that you looked up to me and that you saved everything I sent to you. Although, when I asked for it back, I got very little.

So many lies. I don’t know what to believe. I even talked to the coroner, but I was afraid to push things because I was only just then finding out the truth and I was afraid they might find out that I knew. But, sis, even the coroner’s report did not make sense to me…not given what I knew about your bulimia, your injuries, your drinking. Why would they ignore those things in the autopsy report?

Sis, I pray that you are happy now. I like to think of you as being in our Abba’s arms, being held and rocked and loved on like you always deserved to be. I like to think of you in a beautiful place with a new body and a peaceful spirit…your heart and mind finally at rest. I cling to the fact that you knew Jesus as a child. Somewhere, sis, I have the letters you wrote to me…letters where you talk about Him and about me trusting Him.

His mom said that you never grew up. You watched cartoons every Saturday morning until the end. I believe that little child was still inside of you…still believing in Jesus…until the end, even though the adult you had walked away from that.

I love you, sis. I miss you, sis. Save a place for me, OK? For where you are, I will someday be, too. If there is any way for me to send you hug, via Jesus, or one of His angels, I send it.

Fly, Tweety, fly!

Fly forever free!

Free from the cage they tried to keep you in!

Love,
Sis

Anniversaries and Bad Therapists

This is a cruddy time of year. The time between my sister’s birthday and the anniversary of her death…on my birthday…is hard. Add to that…bad therapists.

It was during this time last year that I was in between therapists. I had stopped going to one because things just did not feel right. I could not figure out what was wrong. For some reason part of me felt afraid when I would think of him, but I did not know why. So, this was the time when I was trying to uncover why the fear was there. And the anniversary of my discovery is coming up.

It was about the second week in April when I got my answer. My cult programming had been accessed and I had been betrayed and violated. Because of how it was done, I totally dissociated the whole thing. But it was in April that I started to get it back. I did several pieces of artwork in the process of working through it. Here is one of them. I wish I could get better pictures of my artwork.

Sadly, that was not the only betrayal I had to work through. I was also working with a t long distance via the phone and internet. I had met him in person and knew some of his clients. He was “helping” me to get to the bottom of this whole thing and ended being an arrogant guy who disrespected me and caused me a lot chaos and grief.

Thoughts on My Sister

Not sure how much I will be writing for a bit. This is a hard time of year for me. My sister’s birthday, followed in a couple of months by the anniversary of her death on my birthday tends to be an emotional time. I am reminded of how the memories of her are locked up deep inside. Some part of me remembers her, I am sure. But me, out here, consciously, does not. And the bits and pieces I do remember…are mostly not good.

I have placed her in Yahweh’s loving hands, for there is no better place to be. I have letters from her, somewhere, from when she was about 12. She writes of Jesus. She trusted Him back then. They tried to take that from her. When I had spoken to her as an adult she was into something totally different. But I trust that the little child within her never really gave up on Jesus. Actually, it is more that I trust that Yeshua/Jesus never gave up on her. He promises to never lose anyone the Abba/Father gives Him. He promises that NO one can take anyone from Him. Those promises comfort me when I think of my sister.

I picture her in heaven, in my Abba/Father’s lap, being held by Him with His big strong arms around her, holding her close to Him. I “see” her leaning with her head on His strong chest, listening to His heart beating out of love for her, protecting her and giving her the love she always deserved to have from our bio father and did not get.

I “see” Him honoring her in ways that we were not honored. Respecting her in ways that we were not respected. I “see” Him being that Daddy that we so desperately needed and did not have.

I grieve for what my sister went through in this life. I grieve for the healthy relationship we never had. I grieve for the ways my mother purposely tried to keep us apart and never let us develop a fun relationship. I grieve for the way my sister became bulimic in a desperate attempt to have some control over her life. I grieve for the way she started to drink at 12.

I grieve for the way another cult group tried to gain control over her…and did. I grieve for the way she was manipulated and controlled…all for the sake of others’ power trips. I grieve for the way she was trained in the ways of the cult…just as I was. I grieve for the child she miscarried in the pizza parlor that she honored me by trusting me enough to tell me about.

I am thankful that I got to see her a few times in the years before she died. I am thankful that she got to see her youngest nephew and meet Dave. I am thankful that she was a fighter who would not give up. I am thankful for the few things I have of hers to remember her by. I am thankful/hopeful that she no longer has to endure the pain of this life. I pray that she truly is in heaven and that they no longer have her.

Thinking of her brings up so much for me. The family power struggles. The cult power struggles. The controlling and manipulating. The jealousies. The false guilt trips. So much sick stuff in my family of origin. (FOO) I remember thinking the first time I saw “foo”…how appropriate! Foo on my foo!!

I sit here writing with tears sliding down my cheeks. I remember when I first decided to seek her out. It felt as if we were strangers. I felt NO emotional connection to her at all. But she was my sister. I sought her out and tried to develop some kind of relationship with her simply because…she was my sister.

It was incredibly hard. Of course, back then, I had no idea of our cult background. It was still buried deep within. We were both still being accessed, but I was clueless. Trust was not there. She did not trust me…and actually, with good reason I realized many years later. **sigh**

When she died, I had gone away to work with a woman who was a lay counselor. We were praying and asking Yahweh to bring healing and to restore the memories and show us what was inside. It was an incredible, awesome time. And during that time, she died under rather suspicious circumstances. I got two radically different stories regarding her death. Neither of them made any real sense.

A therapist I work with who has many years of experience with cult survivors had the sense that her death, timed as it was, may have been a warning to me as I was pushing to remember and deal with my past; which, of course, resulted in my eventually breaking free from my parents and the cult. Sometimes, I wonder if they were afraid that, if I broke free, I might actually be able to help her get free. And they did not want to give her up. Well, if they did kill her, or in any way contribute to her death, they just set her free. They cannot touch her in death. Nope! She is safe now. And I will hold onto that.

Answer to ? About Seeking Out My History

This question was posted:

what do you mean… seek out your history? and why?

rose

Hi, Rose, you ask a good question. I am partially amnesic. It is something that will be coming out more and more as write this blog, but I will start with the most blatant part of it that I see. I don’t remember my younger sister.

You see, I have a sister who is 8 years younger than I am. I lived in the same house with her for at least 10 years. Yet, I can count on one hand the number of real memories I have of her. I have very clear memories of photos of her, but that is not the same thing. I even have a set of photos I took of her at a special event; and yet, try as I might, I can only get hazy bits of memory about that event. Looking at the pictures does not evoke any real sense of being there. Nor does looking at any of the other pictures I have of her.

I don’t recall when it suddenly struck me that she was gone from my consciousness. All I know is that I was an adult and had been away from home for quite awhile. I do have one memory of being with her once when I was visiting after I had moved away, but that is about it. What I remember of our conversation was very telling and very sad.

I also came to another realization one day. As I was looking at the photo albums my parents had it suddenly struck me that all of my younger childhood memories were just the photos in the albums. There are no moving pictures…just still shots. Almost all are from the third person perspective, as if I was there as an observer looking at myself instead of experiencing it as a participant, being myself. My mother had told me stories about the photos many times over the years. Somehow, my mind had taken the stories and the photos and created “memories”.

Both of these realizations came as a bit of a shock to me, but I know I must have been ready for it. I know that God allows things to be revealed as I am ready for it.

So, for me, I had to let go of what I used to think was my history and start seeking what my history really is. I have asked the One who knows all about it…God…to lead me in this adventure. And that is exactly what it has been…an adventure! It has also been incredibly hard and led me to remember things that rocked my life.

I don’t know the details of what is left buried inside, but I do have the overall big picture now. I have also read enough information on what I have uncovered about myself and met enough other people with similar backgrounds that I don’t think there will be too many surprises to come.

I cannot really force any memories to surface. So, what I mean by “seeking” is that I try to be open to what comes up. I try to have an open heart and open mind.

I hope this answers your question!