Sometimes the torches we carry turn into the burdens we were never supposed to bear…
I see it now. Your grief, disguised as anger. Having no way to properly express those repressed emotions. Unsure yourself why the temper flares at the smallest of things.
I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. Losing your own dad when you were only a teen.
Instantly thrust into filling that role. As the oldest, it just naturally seems to go with the territory.
And then you met her. And both your dormant energies collided and immersed themselves into a relationship that would be built on the flimsy foundation of loss.
The emotional abandonment she felt from her mother. She too being the oldest and having to relinquish her own life and dreams to accommodate the brood of seven other siblings.
Hindsight shading in this new perspective sheds light on what had been hanging out in the shadows of my childhood. Watching them now from this higher vantage point as if to spy on their inner children. Seeing so clearly they were secretly begging each other to fix the wound and fill the void. Angry and upset at one another for not being able to sufficiently carry out the task that should have never been assigned.
And these are the wounds we pass on and pass down. Inadvertently and unknowingly.
Generations of vintage baggage begging to be retired through me. Ending the legacy accidentally while in pursuit of my own. Not realizing it would be necessary to live out the one I envision for myself.
Being met with that fate that would not seal itself in my name. And so I do not place blame or write this to reinforce shame. It’s more of an anthology, a eulogy and a “write” of passage for all parties involved.
A call for the healing that still calls from the hearts. Saying I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. And thank you…
The “High on Life” Coach