Birthday Reminiscents of Mom

As Sunday, August 14 approached, I was all too aware of feeling some longing and sadness that Mom is no longer here.  In some ways, it feels harder, not easier, but I also have "my process" to blame or better yet, to thank for feeling my feelings.

I've talked about my processing style in former blogs, but a quick review lets you into how I've learned to cope, which has also allowed me to sit, be and process with other wounded clients and friends when in my presence.

Many of us have experienced PTSD and I, for one, denied that term for years, not acknowledging the reality for myself.  From my diligent work with a therapist and a few amazing energy workers, I have finally been able to get past some of the blocks, knowing that my fears and reactions, and yes, disease, has been rooted in past events and exposures (some people and some environmental).  I used to muscle up both physical and mental energy, energy that I often no longer have, in order to get through difficulties, never feeling the effects.

I truly believe that this is why I was drawn into assisting the complicated cases - what is not seen and is buried beneath, often showing up as "just fine".  I learned at a young age to pull it together, to be fine, in order to protect my Mom.  She was an amazingly talented woman who made my clothes, my coats, and beautiful items for my girls.  She kept a neat and organized home and balanced the checkbook to the penny.  And this was long before computers and Quickbooks!  She brought be on the bus to chorus lessons and I accompanied her to the weekly banking, post office and other chores.

My Mom's Mom, Grammie Lillian, died when Mom was just 10.  Mom remembers most of life being in and out of hospitals and it was during the final illness that Mom was brought away for a summer to be with cousins on the cape.  When she came home, her Mom was close to death.  My mother developed serious asthma that year and I recall her telling me how she would be hung out over the railing on the porch to gasp for air.  Mom was gasping for life and her anxiety over the years took root in many ways.

As I sat at the cemetary yesterday, I was able to really feel my Mom's energy, knowing that she is in peace at this time and that truly felt like a gift.  I was also able to more easily separate out my experiences from hers, thanking her for the life she gave me and putting to rest her own suffering.

I gathered a few acorns, pine needles and a stick - items that I will use later this month as offerings in my shamanic session.  We have American Indian in our background and Mom was very proud of this fact.  I will think of her as I thank God for these simple gifts from nature.

Amen