Releasing Mother

I went to a ceremony tonight to release my mother. I didn’t know what to expect, which is best I think, as it always makes me more open and receptive when I’m in the moment.

It was lovely and powerful. Shanti, the facilitator, shared her story, as did the other women in the room, and I shared a part of mine, and felt an immediate connection with them all. Women sitting on yoga mats holding pillows, snuggled in blankets, feeling unlovable because if our own mothers couldn’t love us, who could?

The most powerful part of the evening was the guided journey. We connected to the universe, and I envisioned being connected to the crystal center at the core of Mother Earth, which for me was purple, and that energy rose up and encircled me, a strong impenetrable purple crystal bubble around my entire being. I felt safe and strong as I journeyed, into the center of a tree, down a winding staircase, to open a door to see whoever was waiting behind the door, some version of myself in connection to the wounds from my mother. It was me, as a toddler, a tiny little girl in a white dress, hat was short enough to see the scars on her leg, still red and hurting, so incongruous on those little legs. Long chestnut colored curls flowing down her back and falling around her eyes. barefoot and trembling. I opened the door and was overwhelmed with the sweetness of this scared little girl who looked up at me with inquisitive brown eyes, trying to decide if I was a good person or not. I told her who I was, and asked her what she wanted to do. She wanted me to hold her. I sat down, enfolded her in my arms, and rocked that fragile little creature as she melted into me and wrapped her own tiny arms around my neck, her fingers entwined in my hair as I rocked her and told her everything was okay, that nobody was ever going to hurt her again. Her breathing steadied. She sat up and asked me to play with her. We ran to a swing and I pushed her high, while she smiled at the sun and the wind blew her hair back and forward into her face. Then it was time to go on. She asked me for a doll. I gave her one with chestnut colored curls and brown eyes, and I was told I could take her with me to the next room if she wanted to go. She did, so I carried her down another flight of the winding stairs. It was suggested I call in the help of spirit guides or whatever support I wanted, so I called to my spirit animals, and my faithful Bear, Wolf, and my Eagle appeared at the door I was to open next. Inside was my mother. (My body on the yoga mat immediately turned and curled into a ball.)  In the room, I set my little one down and she ran behind me. Wolf stood with her, giving her a nuzzle, but keeping her eyes forward, and I heard a low growl come from her as my mother stepped slightly forward. I looked at my mother, so much younger than I remembered, in this room, and spoke to her strongly as I was advised. My first words were, “How dare you?” I said other things, telling her she had had no right, no right at all, and that what she had done was evil and vile and called her a monster. I shouted “monster” at her several times as she stood there looking at me. “I was good,” was the last thing I said to her. I picked up my little one and gave her permission to say anything she wanted to her mother. “You’re bad,” was all she managed to say, but she said it in a brave, strong voice for such a tiny girl. When it was time to leave, I was advised to seek help from my supporters, and I asked my Eagle to get my mother’s hands off of me. They were grasping me tightly, though I hadn’t realized it, as they have done all these years. I have always been in her clutches. Eagle swooped in beside my mother, hovering at her shoulder and willed her to release me. As her hands released my arms, I stepped back, holding tightly to my little one, and turned to leave. My Bear gently nudged me forward and then stood and guarded the door, with my mother and Eagle inside. Wolf turned and led the way out, up the staircase, back up to the room where my little girl had been. On the way, I was guided to envision a powerful light force that cracked open a layer around me, and did the same for my little girl. We both emerged free from an oppressive overlay of some sort.  I was told I could ask her to come with me, or to stay, whatever she wanted. She wanted to stay, for now, not ready to be with me all the time, but she was smiling. I asked my little one what she needed from me. She told me she needed love, and I held her close and ran my fingers through her curls, and told her I loved her very much. Then she told me she was hungry. So hungry. She wanted a sandwich, like great grandma and Aunt Pauline used to make her. I gave her one, and poured her a glass of cold milk. I watched her eat and drink, and realized how hungry she has been for such a long time, and how quickly her little tummy filled up, and I have long forgotten how good it feels to have a tummy comfortably full with just the right amount of food. She held the doll I had given her, gave me one last hug and went to play on her swing. I asked wolf to stay with her a while, so that I could feel better about leaving her, and walked back up the winding staircase, and back into the room where I lay on the yoga mat, my hair wet from tears that had flowed through the journey. I opened my eyes and slowly sat up to see the other women already upright and silently waiting for me.

We shared parts of our journeys with each other and then each chose an angel card that Shanti had placed around the altar. As usual, mine was the Empress Card. I have some written words on a paper that I could burn there if I was ready, or if not quite as ready, tear up and put into water. I will tear mine up and put it in some water tomorrow. I feel at peace for tonight, ready to sleep and dream, and possibly journey more through this. I know I haven’t been able to be completely released from her, but her strong grip has been loosened, and I am ready to do the work to continue breaking her grip completely until she is completely dust in the wind, and I am free.

One thought on “Releasing Mother

  1. I loved what you wrote – back in the day, I read John Bradshaw’s book’s and watched him on PBS where he worked by enfolding and loving our inner child but also by seeing our abusers’ inner child (both of my parents) and it was always hard for me but I truly understood and knew that both of my parents were very broken children/people who also needed to be loved…never fully got there with them or myself…but, learning to cope with an abused past is something that needs worked on for a lifetime for some of us. Your story was extraordinary and beautiful, thank you for sharing.

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