Author: bjukuri

On Father's Day it is a time for honoring those men who are great dads and for some of us this day literally catapults us back into bad memories.  

 

These holidays will automatically bring up the person in your life you called Dad.

I started calling my father by his given name, for he lost the right to the word Dad.

 

It doesn't matter that I am 65 – I watch other older folks still remembering their fathers with love, joy and wistfulness -and the little girl inside me feels its absence.

 

I think a part of me will always be sadden by the empty spot in my heart where a dad lived.

 

My memories are now so distorted and broken – false pretend dad moments.

 

When I think of his legacy and how a brother suggested to me that "Estrangement is a choice and not a life sentence", it sorta seems like I could trade him in for a new dad in my mind.

 

That you could preform some inner mental magic trick and a dad would appear where a pedophile used to be.

Blaming me for making a poor choice – and not re-writing history.

 

Inside of me the truth is resolute.

 

I know love now.

I know what a wonderful father is – and it wasn't me who created it or made that choice.

 

My husband is a loving dad.  

My children have something to celebrate on Father's Day.

When you put your children first, when you make choices based on what is best for the family, you are showing them what love does.

A father's choices are no longer his alone.  They will have a ripple effect that is felt for generations. He leaves an imprint upon their hearts. And the lucky ones feel love.

 

Intellectually I can see how my legacy could be no different.

I get it.  Patterns and cycles were repeated.  

 

Emotionally the little girl in me wishes…

 

The woman I am today – is forever grateful that the patterns changed with me.

My children will hold love in their hearts for their dad. 

When I see a man being a loving dad, a man who loves his children's mother, a man who enjoys being with his kids and helping in their raising, I get emotional – I know the child will feel his love.

 

It is hard to articulate the vast difference between what a loving dad does and what one who is not.  Those whose demons made their choices – left children in their wake whose lives were much more difficult to navigate.  

We inherit a legacy we need to course correct.

 

So many babies are now being born in nature and the mothers/fathers are quite engaged in protecting the child.  Humanity is often not that lucky. 

 

My heart aches for those who carry an empty hole where a dad should be and I am grateful for those who have a full heart.

 

Thirty Seven years ago today, we were married.  

A small simple ceremony – began our marriage.

Who I was then – compared to who I am today – is light years apart.

We had to focus less on what marriage is – and more on who we are.

 

I have come to realize a marriage is only as wonderful as the two people within it.

Its value is in the character of who we are and the truths we live and the love we have to share.

 

Thirty Seven years seems like a lifetime and yet like yesterday.

We have both met life where it is at and have done our best to live in the moment and to always do the right thing, even if it isn't the easiest.  

Our imperfections make us perfect together.

Love is being free to be yourself always.

My heart is full of many emotions – heart strings of reality – and the ones with my husband hold so much of my love, joy and peace. I love our love.

 

I often wondered how I would find out – who would be tasked with "telling" me.  

Social media is the informer.

I never considered – I would not be told.

She passed.

 

I can't know their reasons, I can guess – they feel my estrangement doesn't require social graces.  

 

My journey with her, isn't theirs.

My interactions or the lack there of – and why – is not theirs.

My grief a long while ago – is now theirs.

I am sorry they lost a mom.

I lost a ghost, who I used to call Mom.

 

I feel peace in the space where she used to stand.

 

 

"Oh the Heartstrings of Reality" was in a message from a soul sister friend.  

There are feelings that tug on our heart strings, stirring up memories and crushing dreams – both loving and not so loving.

 

I wondered about the content of my heart – and the memories it holds. 

I often say, "I hold you in my heart" as if it is a sacred place to keep cherished beings.

 

It feels different than "I will keep you in my thoughts".

 

I also wondered if having feelings means you are suffering.  

 My brother commented that "Emptiness and loss is a state of suffering in my experience."

But is it?

Do we suffer with feelings or do we simply express them?

I wondered how many feelings we have and how they land on the scale.

"Plutchick believed that humans can experience over 34,000 unique emotions but, ordinarily, they experience eight primary emotions. These primary emotions include anger, fear, sadness, joy, disgust, surprise, trust, and anticipation. These emotions are arranged as opposites on the wheel: Sadness and Joy."

I love that there is an emotional wheel – kind of like the color wheel 

 

What surprised me was the imbalance if you will between what we'd call positive over negative.  

Yet are they?  

It seems more they are just messengers about our reality as well as a way for us to communicate what we feel inside. 

 

I have been pondering his words and my world and my experiences – with emotions.

In my early life, I repressed emotions – and neglected my feelings or even allowed myself to feel.  Let alone feel and speak how I felt. Then I believe I suffered. 

Suffering feels restrained and tight.

 

Feeling the emotions of estrangement – is just that – feeling what its content is.

Perhaps IF I stood in the estrangement space all day – I would be in suffering. But, it is a place that I visit; but I don't live there.

 

I live in the wider space – for the relationships or non-relationships I have with my family of origin – only pop up from time to time.

Almost two decades have passed by, my world has been filling up with new relationships and shared memories, they are not a part of.

They are a heartstring from long ago.

New strings grow and old ones fade and get tattered.

There are fanciful ones and sorrowful ones, like a heart of many colors.  If you look at the color wheel, we can only hope our heart carry more sunshine colors.

Our heartstrings are personal and carry the language of our journey.

I was inspired to do a heartstring heart.  And I was waiting to add words after I blogged. 

I am thinking now my heartstring heart would carry more color.  I will see where today's art takes me. 

My heartstrings, today are not suffering.

I love the content of my heart and all its strings.

 

"As long as you think that the cause of your problem is “out there”—as long as you think that anyone or anything is responsible for your suffering—the situation is hopeless. It means that you are forever in the role of victim, that you’re suffering in paradise."  
Byron Katie, Loving What Is: Four Questions That Can Change Your Life - another comment from my brother.

 

My recollection of doing the Work of Byron Katie, is you only do the work on things that are causing you suffering.  And her work is to bring you back to reality.  

I love her quote "When you argue with reality, you lose, but only 100% of the time.

 

My brother who is commenting now, is the one who introduced me to her books and work and many other authors. She however, was one that really helped me in the beginning as I was awakening to the realization of my brainwashing, and how skewed I was in seeing the world, my life, my self, and others around me.  My mind was fickle at best and a liar most of the time. 

I used to trust my thoughts and how I saw the world – until my world imploded – and I was shown how off the mark I was.

 

There are hardly words to describe the terrifying moment, when you realize you have been living a lie, you are a lie, and the world you created, was created by a you  - you don't really know.

 

I had said, "It was like I was lost, and I had to go find me, and I didn't know who I was or that I was missing."  The fear that arose felt immobilizing.

 

Byron Katie's simplicity – made this so much easier.  

Her phrase "I am a lover of what is, not because I'm a spiritual person, but because it hurts when I argue with reality."

 

Reality became my religion. My only task was to not argue with it.

No matter what appeared or what action someone made etc, it was my job to accept it.

There is peace in this method, for no matter what is in reality, it is.

The mind doesn't get to play and distort it. 

 

What some may fail to appreciate, is that accepting reality is not always kind things.

I was being asked to accept a father that was a pedophile.

I was being asked to accept that family members were going to support him on various scales.

I was being asked to accept the volume of things that unfolded into reality of there being sexual abuse within our family – for generations.

 

Suffering wasn't  in my mind.  

Reality was displaying things that blew my mind.

 

Even Byron Katie would agree – a pedophile does what a pedophile does. He abuses children.

 

Having this information allowed me to make new choices.

I also had new labels.

I no longer expected father type behavior from a pedophile.

This actually brings peace to your body and mind.

I would suffer – IF I believed he should act fatherly.

I didn't.

And I was free from being his daughter. 

 

So while my brother comments and believes that I am suffering. I am not.

I am processing the aspects of being estranged at the time my mother is actively dying.

I am processing the emotions that it brings up.

I am not suffering.

I am living with the reality of my orientation with my family of origin. 

 

 

I know that Byron Katie's methods work. For each and every time – I was brought to reality, peace arrived with it.  

 

I am open to suffering. For when I suffer and I seek to find what thoughts are upside down and backwards, I am brought back to reality.

Reality is for me, Heaven on Earth.

 

 

 

"Being an active participant in your family of origin in the dying and grieving process brings many profound gifts. Choosing not to be part of it is your choice. Estrangement is a choice and not a life sentence. My experience of this is so different than your last blog. I wrote about it as well."  (a comment from my brother on my last post.)

 

Isn't it always easier to tell someone else what to do – than to just do your thing and let others be.

His words boggle my mind. For he and I shared thousands of hours talking endlessly about abuse and the effects it had on us, our lives, our well being – or the lack thereof.

To insinuate now that I can change my choices seems like insanity talking.

 

Who are you now?

 

My gifts were delivered to me when a small girl stood up in our family and spoke the truth about the sexual abuse. It changed my choices then – and it changed me. 

 

That truth, as ugly as it is, allowed me to see who I was, how I came to be, and why.

That little voice changed who my parents were that day.

I was given a reason to make a new choice – and I did.

There hasn't been a reason to undo that choice.

Even as she lay dying, nothing between us changed.

Her physical body is failing.

 

The voice of truth that dares speak out – allows others to speak theirs. It is that little voice that broke into my brainwashed mind and allowed me to see a reality – I cannot not see. She changed the lens and how I see and how I engage in the world – in how I see me.  

Her gift gave me love.  

I found profound gifts in the truth of sexual abuse.

 

My active participation in her family was for 46 years. I was one who helped keep the truth hidden by not listening to my body,  to keep the family appearances up and to help her uphold her pretend world.  Once I knew what I was participating in, I stopped.

Our last conversation, 19 plus years ago – she directed what was off limits to speak about – her husband and her religion.  That didn't leave much room for the truth to be aired.

I left her home, knowing her and I would never see eye to eye on reality, life and family.

 

Estrangement doesn't have to be a life sentence, if both parties are able to communicate truthfully and be allowed to speak and address the wounds that severed the relationship.

I am unwilling to leave truths at the doorway – in order to be in her presence. 

 

We all have choices to make – and you can change your mind – at any time – for any reason.

And, as they say, you are free to make choices, but not free from their consequences.

 

I am at peace with my estrangement – for the reason are still very valid.

And with estrangement comes emptiness and feelings of separation – that is normal. And I do miss the family moments, even those in death.  

That is the cost of my choice.  

 

Yet the gains are far more.  

To name just a few – Love, peace and joy.

 

I will know when to change my choice.

My heart, body and mind will see a new truth – I will feel the seismic change in the universe – and the choice will be made for me – I follow truth, no matter where it leads.

Thank you for prompting me to examine my choices – to find they still stand.

Rest in peace is for the living.

 

 

 

There are many moments in estrangement from family that are hard to navigate and one being the death of a family member.

Word reached me last week that my mother is on comfort care for a failing heart. My only comment back was "May she rest in Peace."

 

I knew the day would come and I wondered how I would feel.  

What is in my heart of hearts?

Would I want to reach out etc?

Would I feel regret for the lost years?

How do you reconcile the estrangement at death?

Isn't estrangement death of sorts?

 

My heart wrenching grief began 19 years ago.  My loss happened then. She wasn't the woman I thought she was.

Our Irreconcilable differences were so vast – our relationship broke – and our contact. 

The mother and daughter bond was severed.

A death came then. 

I was motherless.

 

 

I know some will feel it is Sacrilegious to bring up parts of her life – now.  But when I see our relationship, all that stands up is why it broke.

 

Being estranged at death is complicated at best.

Folks don't even know what to say – "You have my sympathies" – seems not to fit.

There are no rules for the Estranged, or protocols we follow.  Typically we are out and out.

Persona non grata.  I had to look up that definition.  

"they become unwelcome or unacceptable because of something they have said or done."

That tracks.  

 

Mostly what I feel is the expanse and emptiness of estrangement. I feel the loss compounded. I feel the aloneness. That is what estrangement feels like – and I don't think death feels that way – when you love someone or have been loved by them.

 

Estrangement and death then are different.

Love is felt at death.

Lack of love in estrangement.

I don't know what a mother's love feels like.

To be seen and heard and valued as a child – a foreign concept.

 

I had to be the mother she wasn't, to my self – to heal the wounds she inflicted – along with my father.

 

There aren't the warm memories of the past – nor the loss of the future.

A void is there – has been there.

Can you grieve a void?

 

Mostly I guess I am sad. 

Sad for what wasn't.

And sad for what I had to lose in order to change the legacy of her life.

Yet the loss has great meaning.

Love lives where it never lived before.

 

An estranged daughter still feels the lack of love.

Nothing to grieve, nothing to miss, nothing to mourn.

Sadness in missing love of a parent.

Perhaps cheated on the grief in that loss.

Or being proud of the person they were.

 

There simply isn't a role for a child who is estranged.

Her feelings don't matter.

Her presence not needed.

Love doesn't draw her there.

And love doesn't go where it isn't valued.

The path of love is built on truth.

I want to live a life where love will be mourned.