Breaking Ancestral Patterns

Some of you came here to break ancestral patterns and heal trauma. The trouble is, you don’t usually know it until you go through your own challenges, lessons, and traumas to discover your purpose. You also have to go through an incredible amount of pain, ripping yourself out of a path your family has followed — perhaps for many generations.

For me, it wasn’t really a single event, but several spanning more than 15 years. I spent the first 40 or so years living a life isolated from true connections, unaware that the lessons I’d been taught from the cradle were not only dead wrong, but horrifically damaging to an ultra-sensitive psyche like mine.

Even my mother’s suicide in 1993 wasn’t enough to shake me loose from old, unhealthy beliefs. When my dad followed suit in 2003, the walls had begun to weaken, but were still held firmly in place, if only with spit and baling wire. It wasn’t until my eldest daughter started talking about moving out in early 2009 that the weakening supports holding all the old, uncomfortable misconceptions in place began to crumble in earnest.

Losing my parents, even in the worst way possible shook me to my core, but it wasn’t a strong enough shock to allow me to let go of a belief system that never felt right in the first place. Once they were gone, and the rest of my family distanced, it seemed like the only thing I had left to connect me with my origins. Only the thought of being completely alone could turn my life upside down and allow all the pieces to start falling out of a box that was never meant to contain a lifetime of hurts, abuse, and frustration.

Thankfully, my daughter didn’t leave me without the tools to rebuild my crumbling self into something better, nor did she move out for a couple more years. She encouraged me to take up writing again. I learned it was a safe place to air those feelings, and even start sharing them publicly.

It happened slowly at first, with Tarot readings, and small glimpses behind my veil. But as time went on, I opened up further, first sharing my parents’ suicides, then bringing my own confused and convoluted feelings into the mix.

I learned the old, self-protective beliefs my family had passed down for generations meant living…

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