On Tuesday, April 5, 2022, we had a terrific storm with frightening winds which took out hundreds of power poles. The power went down several times during the morning while at work, coming back immediately………until it didn’t. Because it was at lunch time when it went down for good, I went home and stayed there. Really I was very glad to be in the safety of my apartment although it was very cold and my ability to have anything warm to eat or drink was gone. Still, I was tired from the difficult experience over the weekend and welcomed the chance to just rest – no obligations.
Because I had 3 important dreams over the next day, I decided to write them out by hand because I did not want to use up the battery life on my device, the length of time speculated for power to be returned was up to 3 days. So Wednesday morning I searched for my journal to make a new entry. I was quite surprised to read what had been written last December as I looked through the pages. Because it seems to be connected to so many thoughts had over the last week or so, it seems appropriate to include this journal entry now into my blog.
Written on December 1, 2021
It has been a trying week emotionally, so tonight as I sit and contemplate, I realize the importance of not caring who my parents were to the world. In my mind I say to myself, “see them as ordinary people first, the way you did as a child.”
This makes so much sense because seeing them as famous removes me from the equation. It was our “private world” where we were allowed to be a family. The most important thing for me to remember is that I was loved very much.
Just like any child, it is this love which binds us, makes us family. There is an eerie silence in my “spirit” tonight as this idea sinks in. Part of me, perhaps, too large a part of me, wants/ed to be recognized for being the daughter of such famous people. But what did being so famous do for them? What has being their daughter done for me? I am just an ordinary woman who survives in a very ordinary way. Much of my time is spent alone and I am comfortable with what my life has become.
My mama and papa loved me, their names don’t matter. Home for me is accepting their love as well as knowing this is the single most important aspect of who I am today. It has become enough to feel the flow of my mother’s grace in my own body as I move about doing ordinary tasks. It’s funny to realize after all these years, this is what connects me to her – this grace of movement.
From my father I feel a sense of surety in how I see the world. There is a great deal of strength in the understanding received from our conversations. All the insecurities come from those trying to tear apart the fortress built from being with my parents those first few years. The insecurities are not who I am, only the result of abuse.
My heart was encased in layers of protection like a silken web. Perhaps this is why the spider became such a strong messenger over the years. Is it to remind me it was by choice these layers were wrapped around my heart? This would mean of course, I can choose to break the confining threads in order to love again, accept the joy of living again. There is no need to be hurt, angry or afraid anymore………I have reached the other side of pain!
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