The card I picked from the Osho Zen tarot deck today is Water: Letting Go

I recently consulted a medium to see if she could help me with unresolved issues having to do with the passing of my mother in November 2014. The medium told me that my mother said she was sorry for the things she had said and done over the years and asked me for forgiveness. The medium suggested that I needed to forgive my mother so that I could free myself to live a happy life.

At home, I decided to use the forgiveness prayer in Marianne Williamson’s book, “Return to Love,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say “I forgive you, mother,” so I said:

“person I called mother, I forgive you and release you to the Holy Spirit”

“person who birthed me, I forgive you and release you to the Holy Spirit”

“Betty, I forgive you and release you to the Holy Spirit.”

I need to do more work on this.

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About 10 years ago, I was given an exercise where I was asked to imagine I was an embryo in my mother’s womb, looking up and seeing my soul approach my embryo body to merge with me. By doing this, I was to embrace my life story/my mission. This became a lengthy and emotionally painful experience, because, of course, I was aware of the experiences I would face. I used the Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) and loving myself to dissolve the resistance to merging with my soul. I resigned myself to accepting this lifetime.

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I was the first child and they were hoping for a boy (when I asked about my name, they said they were going to name me Monti whether I was a boy or a girl). I later learned that my father married my mother because she was like his own mother. My mother was young, beautiful, and self-involved. She left me in the crib for long periods of time, and that’s when I started trying to figure out why the people taking care of me were pretending that everything was alright…I spent my childhood in my head, pondering unanswerable questions and wondering why these people were ignoring issues that seemed to be obvious. Less than two years after my birth, my brother was born, which gave me even more time to observe human behavior.

I grew up in the ‘50’s, and relationships, emotions, interactive questions about the meaning of life, etc., weren’t generally a topic of conversation. Saying I love you, hugging, touching, or affection…that didn’t happen either, at least not so far as I knew. We were never to discuss problems or indicate we had less than anyone else. We maintained the appearance that we were just like everyone else, and had just as much. As far as the outside world was concerned, we were the picture-perfect family.

My mother emanated anger so palpable I could sense it wherever she was in the house, while my father was silently complacent. He almost never spoke (none of us did) because she spoke in constant stream of consciousness without seeming to take a breath. The spaces in our house were filled with her furious activity, battering, judgmental, critical words, and invasive behavior. I would retreat to my room, or if I was in the same room with her, I’d stay silent and as still as possible so as not to attract attention. When she turned her attention to me, it might begin as a regular conversation, but unexpectedly turn into an emotionally charged, unprovoked verbal attack. I was in a continuous state of alert defensiveness, and her negative comments made me shrink into cycles of depression.

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This behavior was a family trait…I recall being in my Aunt’s house (my mother’s older sister) when I was about 8 years old, while she talked to my 6-year-old cousin, who appeared adorable dressed in a white pinafore. My Aunt’s words resounded sharp as razor blades, as she told Lisa all the things that were wrong with her, from head to toe and in between.

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Over the years, I was very careful about any personal information I volunteered because my mother might pounce on my words, twist their meaning and later use them in a manipulative way to make me feel badly about myself. If there was anything I was happy about, she’d be sure to try to find something wrong with it. Because of this, I learned to express no personality and tell her “nothing was new.” Once out of the house, I would make dutiful phone calls to her about every other day. When I said hello, she would begin to speak in stream of consciousness. I continually braced myself for negative comments, which felt as if I was being physically assaulted. I waited for her to say she had nothing else to say…but then there was more…just waited until it was over.

My brother, sister and I didn’t know or relate to each other because there was no space in the all-encompassing presence of our mother. Outside of her presence, we retreated to deal in our own ways. Soon after my mother passed away, my brother told me on the phone “we’re all going to need psychotherapy.” This was the first time we had ever discussed our family dysfunction…up until then, I had no idea that we shared the same viewpoint.

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From a young age, I would go somewhere in my mind for minutes at a time … to a non-sensory, no-place, and where I’d be completely blank until my consciousness returned.

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Because of my childhood environment, I didn’t learn how to make choices. I was a good student and a very good, quiet person, who followed the rules. I didn’t know what I wanted, so simply allowed others to make choices for me. I met someone in college who had been admitted to law school and suggested that I apply. When I was accepted, I called my father to let him know, and he said “of course, you’ll go.”

One night, I had a vivid dream…I was in a hospital on the operating table. The doctor said “It’s a boy and a girl, what do you want to name them?” I answered “Brett and Shelley.” When I woke up, I wondered why I would have such a dream.

Since I was a good student, I made it through three years of law school and passed the Massachusetts bar exam, but wasn’t sure how to apply what I learned when I graduated. I was lost.

I moved back to Washington, DC., and got a job working for the Federal Government (a safe, secure occupation). The woman who hired me had a personality like my mother. She rampaged down office hallways creating drama, and I knew just how to behave in order to get along there. Soon after being hired, I met my future husband in the carpool. We were immediately attracted to each other. I was mild-mannered (like his mother) and he was a controlling, unpredictably angry person.

Seven years later, my husband’s alcoholic behavior drove me out of the marriage (I am grateful that his behavior was so bad, I had no choice but to leave)…I was the single-parent of 3-year-old twins and began a long and winding road toward self-healing.

To be continued…

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