Let me just preface this by saying it is not easy for me to publicly share my story. That’s kind of the thing with being a survivor of childhood abuse, there is a shame that stays with you, and the feeling that you are betraying your family for exposing the family dynamic. This guilt cannot be underestimated. Its what keeps people quiet, stuck and prevents the pattern from being broken. With the amount of mental health issues and sickness and complete disconnect from ourselves and others in western society today, we need to shed some light. Parenting and attachment are the most important factors in how healthy a person, and eventually a society is. Doing ancestral and Karmic work for some years now, I understand, and even empathize with many of these emotionally immature parents. If you look back over recent human history, it was a predictable outcome.
Emotionally immature, the core issue in abusive and negligent parents. The inability to regulate ones emotions. A person who has a hard time putting someone else’s needs before their wants. Pleasant emotions are limited to superficial levels. Doing things without care or realization of how it will effect others. Inconsistent in word and action. An inability to predict future outcomes. An inability to sense needs in another. A wounded and underdeveloped ego. Emotional Immaturity was the cause of my terrible childhood, on both my parents part. It has caused me severe mental health issues beginning in childhood, and I’ve spent much of my adult life trying to teach and grow and re-parent myself, while healing the deep wounds that came from having emotionally immature parents.
Emotionally immature parents can look many ways. Remember, its not a personality, its a lack of emotional fitness that can actually be gained at any time in life, if a person chooses to self-improve. For my parents, well it’s 2 stories really. They each were selfish and wouldn’t put the needs of the children before their own. Ill start with Mother. Mom loved the drugs and alcohol. I was born addicted to crack, and she was high on LSD while she went into labour. Clearly this woman had no intentions of caring for me, but anyway. I was breach and she was high and back then they put a woman to sleep to do a C-section. They were worried to do so, because she was hallucinating and the fact that Crack was still somewhat new to them, it was 1982, and so they just tried to pull me out. Obviously, I nearly died. They dislocated my hip in the process and after all that, decided to put her under and cut me out finally. This was an appropriate intro to the reality I was about to encounter.
I was born into Toronto housing and poverty. I’ve been in so many shelters I refer to myself as a shelter dog, probably a good person but all fucked up from the past. My parents split a couple years later. My only memory of them being together is them yelling and screaming at each other. Dad wanted to become a born again Baptist, Mom was ready to get the party started. Neither of them even adults at this point. The scenery of my neighbourhood still makes me queasy. Addicts everywhere, violence, homeless people in our apartment stairways, literal human shit everywhere because why use a bathroom when your basically an animal. Cockroaches will always trigger me. You couldn’t look at a wall for more than 3 seconds without seeing at least one scurry by. At night, they would crawl all over the dark walls and eventually onto us. The scenery matched the circumstance. Obviously as a vulnerable and neglected little blond girl in the Hood, I was a target for all kinds of assaults.
Life was chaotic with Mom. The dangerous or harmful men she allowed into our house always confused to me. I would ask her “Mom!! why do you let them in? Why do you have boyfriends?” It really didn’t make sense to me. She would neglect our needs and safety for the sake of having a man. Obviously, us children suffered at the hand of some of these dudes, but her only concern was herself. This is emotional immaturity in action. Aside from the constant outbursts and mind-fucking punishments, there was serious hunger, knocking on peoples doors for food, humiliation, as there was no empathy, and the constant threat of danger. I don’t know how anyone could be surprised that I grew up to have some serious issues. I took the brunt of Moms abuse and even though I was the second born, I was the Parentified One. My sister pointed out this was just like in Moms’ childhood home. Mom, the oldest got away with everything and her younger sister became the target and servant. I was also deeply sensitive and empathetic, so even when the abuse wasn’t directed at me, I felt it. So ya, cue spoiled brat complaints now: I spent most of my childhood being yelled at and threatened and hurt and taking care of her next couple of kids, One having FAS, and cleaning up whatever messes in life needed cleaning. She never celebrated my birthdays. An odd thing to be upset about, but that one really hurt more as an adult, realizing I was special to No One. By 11 I was cutting and hurting myself. Mom brought me to Niagara’s supposed best, a psychologist in the Norris wing, who promptly put me on a chemical cocktail of Lithium, paxil, zolof, etc. His solution was a chemical restraint, and I guess mom agreed. He said I was likely Bi-Polar. I knew this was ridiculous but was still a minor. She never empathized or even asked me why I hurt, typical of emotionally immature parents. Let someone else deal with it so they don’t have to. This is getting on so I’ll sum it up a bit now. Mom met a straight up psycho who in her words “Spent more time in jail than he has out!” Yea, she was proud. We moved to St.Catharines so he could eventually do some program where he worked during the week and went back to the halfway house on weekends. He was eventually released and mom, being the amazing woman she is, moved a violent and aggressive convict in with her 2 remaining kids. (my one brother was removed from the home for stabbing me after my mom took off for days partying, leaving me alone to deal with this violent kid who was now getting bigger than me, and my older sister had a baby at 15 and Mom pushed her out) So now heres Me, my FAS brother, an unstable mom, Stormin’ Norman (no really, that’s his name) and all these pittbulls they got, our own little house of horrors. I would wake up every day and think “I’m going to go crazy before I leave home” and it really worried me. I didn’t even understand what mental health was, but I knew mine was essentially fucked. Now Stormin’ Norman didn’t get that name for nothing. He regularly beat my mom and the dogs, as replayed in my nightmares. He’d make sexual comments and make me feel weird as hell, right in front of my mother who of coarse did nothing. He’d fight with the same dudes he invited into our house. Violence was just a normal thing in my “home”, knocked out Moms teeth, black eyes and threats of murder, and the 2 of them seemed to have no insight into how dysfunctional they were. When I spoke up about it I’d get shut down. I called the cops on one occasion, a big No-No in our culture. By the end of the month Mom abandoned me, took off to another city with her “man”. I was 15. I had no life skills and no support.
Now where was my dad in all this? Ha! That’s what I was wondering. My dad was a mean hypocritical angry person. He had no problem talking about what a loser my mother was, yet didn’t try to step up either. I wont get into his parenting or the lack of it too much, as I can pretty much sum up his contribution to my mental health issues in one sentence : He was negligent. He would lie and tell me he loved me when we’d say goodbye. Of coarse he didn’t because when you love your daughter you take care of her and protect her. You pay some support and you make sure shes living in a safe environment. You certainly don’t constantly shame, criticize, yell and degrade and gas-light them every chance you get. When I was homeless at 15 he turned his back on me, just like he always did. Sorry Dad, but you don’t get a pass just because you weren’t there. That is the problem, you weren’t there. You let us come sit on your couch some weekends so you could tell us why we were heathens & then bring us to Church occasionally and pretend you didn’t abandon us. But you did.
I eventually flushed the pills one evening, even as a kid I knew this was the wrong way to deal with things. Besides, who was going to make me? My parents, who I hadn’t even heard from in months? Ha.
By the time I met my ex-husband and father of my children at 16 I was already sick, something he loved to throw in my face. A bad partner will only exasperate wounds. He’d make me feel bad because I had bad credit (thanks mom, cool of you to open accounts and cards in my name and ruin my credit) I was always wrong because I was a drug baby, he’d tell people I was crazy and said it was because I wasn’t raised right. He became very abusive while drinking and constantly threatened to kill me and the kids. I’m not worried about publicly expressing this either because its all in court record, no slander here. I was sick all the time, the energetic imbalances really started taking a toll. And until I found the right therapist who helped me to realize I’ve lived a life of abuse, I just really thought I was defective and crazy and deserving of punishment.
Divorced by 30, and on a healing journey ever since. I think its actually more important to understand what caused my mental health than anything, because we have to understand our wounds to heal them. I had to understand what I went through or didn’t get growing up in order to re-parent myself, which led me to truly loving myself. An Emotion Code session was the first of several Energy healing tools I encountered, and it was so enlightening. I knew then I was meant to be healing others with it. It helped me to finally understand, like on the cellular level, who I was and what happened to me. I was already an avid mediator and talked with Spirit since as far back as I can remember, (was def my escape from the world) but the clearing of this past Karmic debris was the catalyst to a new life. Of coarse there was choices to make, ties to severe, & lots of inner child work to be done too, healing is a process. But Having the ability to tap into my records and figure it out first was essential. This is why people tell me after a session that they feel they’ve done more healing and gained more understanding in 1 session with me than after years of therapy. It just gets the heart of it, makes you see and understand, and heals the trauma, permanently. All you are left with is the insight, lessons and growth.
Western society is one of few that doesn’t regularly practice energetic hygiene. Medical Experts and Scientists alike are waking up now though. Some want to stay stuck, this is all too “Witch Doctory” for their already crowded minds. Some who truly have a healers heart have understood this their entire career, yet have to keep quiet or risk losing their reputation. On the medical research front, we have physicists actually studying these crafts now, as the field of quantum physics become increasingly popular. Papers and articles are being written, letting the public know the wonders of the quantum field. I mean we all know and accept by now, we are pure energy in a very real way, nothing but spinning vortices of condensed energy. Becoming undeniable, our energetic body is the beginning factor to physical & mental health. And it was where I truly needed healing. Now, I am rarely sick in any fashion. I have healthy reciprocating relationships. I’m an Empath so I’ll always feel anxiety and depression at certain times, but I manage it easily with Reiki and Meditation and self-talk. I am a healer but I am also human. Being an energy medicine practitioner doesn’t take away my humanness. It helps me be human. It helps me cope with this very unnatural harsh reality, this dimension we humans have made such a mess of. It keeps me healthy and centred so I can be of service and help out in this world. It’s also helped me find & live my best life. I’m grateful I learned to accept my humanness, rather that mask it with pills or “pink hearts” and fake smiles. I share this because I know how debilitating an imbalanced mind is, how exhausting it is, how it limits your life. And I just want you to know
There are others ways to soothe the mind. Simpler, more enjoyable ways of healing. But you have to relax and let yourself believe it. This is step one. Because whether you think you can, or you think you cant, you’re right🖤
This is the gist of my mental health journey.