back to the root | part one

This will be an ongoing story for a few posts as there is a lot to the story. I will share my story at first in pieces and then I will share how I learned to deal with the issues, bring it forward and expose the problems, hurts and how I found healing and was able to finally unpack that backpack I carried for some many years through my life.

Let’s face it…we all have major damage that has been done to us through our lives. We are all carrying around something that has or will come in our lives that we will have to address. There are people that have major issues that come from abusive parents, relationships, rape, loss, and other things that will traumatize our psyche. We spend our lives learning to adapt to how people think we should act, what is expected from us and conforming to what society has declared as the norm. These everyday traumas can take a toll on your life though as you find your way through experiences and relationships. I am here to encourage you to find your personal walk of healing. I challenge you to break away from that norm and find true inner peace and the joy of living.

the little me |
My story is probably similar to most people in a way. I grew up in the 80’s in a very small town in Northern Arizona. It was a great town to grow up in and I was able to experience a world where I did not have to worry about kidnapping or someone hurting me. Adventure was around every corner and we had the freedom to explore it. Everyone in town knew each other and there was a looking out for each other’s kids.

My parents moved out west from the east coast when I was very young and within two years after arriving to our new home in the Wild West they divorced. I was 9 and I remember it very well. My life was filled with joy and what I thought was a happy family unit up until that point. I remember my dad working on our house and I was able to help him. One of my fondest memories of him was helping make concrete balls from using a plastic globe for the mold to hold the concrete for the decorative top of our wall in our backyard. I was his helper and loved watching him build our addition and huge deck. Shortly after the house was near completion we were told that he was moving out and that they were splitting. I was told I understood when they talked to us but....seriously...how well does a 9 year old understand something like this? It is hard to process.

My dad was the caretaker for a famous church in town where tourists from all over would come to see. He went to live there in the little office apartment in the bottom and we would see him on Saturdays. Every week we would wake up early in the morning, walk up to the chapel and help him replace candles, pick up trash and whatever else needed to be done. He would drop us off at home or we would occasionally go out for a ride in his Jeep on a trail, go to the local pool or get lunch. I did not get much time with him anymore. Big shock really since we were with him every day prior with family meals and so on. He was making a new life for himself and most of the time it felt like we did not fit in it. This was the start of me looking for his approval and wanting a man figure to stay in my life at any cost. You see...I thought I had done something wrong and that is why he did not want to spend the time with us. The damage started and feelings which would come up later, over and over in my life.

See…it is the simple little things that we learn to accept and move past thinking it will just go away.

My mom went from relationship to relationship and had her heart crushed by a man that lived with us that she married after my dad. That was the start of her spiraling out of control, her emotional and physical decline. She too had issues with her dad as he died when she was 12 so she would give a man her whole power and just wanted to be loved at any price causing destruction to her mind and soul. She started to drink more and more and began to dabble with drugs and eventually all the money was gone and we moved to an apartment in a different part of town.

My grandmother had come to live with us a few years prior so she had become the adult caregiver in the family and my brother and I knew that she was there if needed and that she was keeping the pieces together and that we would be safe from a monetary perspective. We are of Hungarian/German decent so my heritage is not one of warm fuzzy people. I do not remember her telling me that she loved me just because she wanted to say it, the absence of physical embraces, or the desire of wanting to watch a movie together. I learned to stuff my feelings and take care of myself. I was responsible to get myself up in the mornings, ready for school, eat, and get out the door for the bus, all this and I was an emotionally young 10. The pressure to grow up and take care of myself was instilled…damage.

All of this time I just assumed this was normal and I learned to adjust and deal with it. Never would I have imagined that it would become the start to a hardened and closed off heart scared and afraid to be hurt. I carried this with me till about 6 years ago. I will be forty this year so that is a long time to be carrying those bags and wow were they getting heavy.

My next posting will be back to the root | part two