As I embark on this 100 days of self-exploration, I realize that one can only begin to heal by writing about how it all began. â£
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We begin by walking through what we remember the most— the first feelings you’ve ever felt, embraced, and how it became interwoven into the fabric of your entire existence. These innermost threads of wounds and trauma are vehicles for exploring our essential nature, revealing the textures of the heart and soul. Yet if only we could allow ourselves to sit with our stories a few minutes each day, unbraiding every detail, strand by strand. Through writing, we are able to navigate through our grief and learn how to honor our feelings, transforming them into a language that creates space for healing. â£
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Recently I came across a beautiful post written by my dear friend @adele.ouyang, who speaks about life as a mother and how loving her children teaches her to reparent and love herself through revisiting aspects of her inner child. â£
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Mothers teach daughters the ways of a woman, and this has allowed me to live congruently to the ways of the heart, and in great depth with my emotions. My mother loved and cared for me deeply, however, I never got the acceptance and confidence I needed. A child needs her father to show up, sometimes as the hero, especially when times get tough to save the day, and to be physically present in his masculinity. Unfortunately, my father was never there. I knew how to solve my problems emotionally, yet I never fully understood how to navigate through life with strength and courage. I needed my father to be like my supportive backbone, to teach me about the logistics of the world, how to show up for myself (and others) how to work, how to save money, when to be realistic and when to be emotional. â£
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Having an absent father meant that I had to instead, find ways to identify myself with my mother, which created an energetic imbalance (my scoliosis twists away from the masculine poles and into the feminine) as well as codependency of her approval throughout my adolescence. â£
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What did you need as a child and did not get? Where or how do you seek for these things now? â£
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