I had been thinking quite a bit about all of the pieces of me that are still out there and for what reasons. Some of those pieces linger because of trauma and genuine sorrow and pain. But, other pieces stayed behind for no better reason than just ego. It's amazing what can shift when you just set the intent to heal. After my last blog, I really started to put thought into action. I reached out to a friend that I had a falling out with. And, some major repair was done with someone I have spent a lot of time energetically engaged with in a negative way, even though we don't know each other well personally. That was great. But, I also did something I thought I would never do. And, it was a biggie.
For almost the entirety of my life, I have been desperately afraid of my birth father. Rightfully so, considering the content of my memories and of the file sitting on the shelves of Orange County Social Services. This man has made me question the concept that all people are good at their core. I have had panic attacks in public places when I just thought I saw him. I have had more nightmares than I can possibly count about him. When I was a child, my parents (adoptive) had to sleep with their door open because of my night terrors. Years I have spent in therapy dealing with these memories and nightmares. The last couple of years I have found myself incredibly frustrated over the fact that I have done so much 'work' around these issues and still they have a major impact on my life. I stopped defining myself by my traumas awhile ago and came to a place of gratitude. I genuinely feel a deep sense of gratitude for what happened. This is because the things I did like about myself seem to be in direct relation to the trauma and pain I suffered. It created empathy, a need to want to make a difference in people's life, and opened my eyes to the larger truths in life. I believe those experiences are the reason I do the hospice work and want to help children and animals. So, for all of that, I am grateful. After some major work around my abuse issues the past year, I finally had come to a place in my life that the nightmares around my birth father had subsided. I stopped defining myself by my past traumas and started defining myself by my ability to overcome them. I still maintained vehemently though that I would never meet my birth father. That changed on Monday when I realized he still held a piece of me. Since reuniting with my birth sister I was afraid that he may just show up when we were hanging out. I carried Mace in my purse in case this happened. I didn't want to be surprised by him. He still held some power over me in this way. So, I decided if I was the one to initiate the meeting, that would empower me. I also had a feeling that if I could just see the "monster" with my own eyes and face him that I wouldn't be afraid anymore. I've been reading about the power of forgiveness and saw an amazing documentary on the science of forgiveness last week. I knew in my heart I needed to go beyond just saying I forgave him and do so with the whole of my being. I figure if Elie Weisel can forgive the nazi germans, I can certainly forgive my abusive father. So, I did so in person on Thursday.
We met at Denny's in a town outside of Phoenix. I felt like I would vomit during the ride over, but my sister calmed me with her gentle understanding and we made it to the diner to find him standing out front. He wore tattered clothing and a Vietnam Veterans baseball cap. He gave me a print out of a dog's prayer that he happened to be carrying in his pocket. He was far older in appearance than in years. My "monster' turned out to be a very aged, fragile man beaten down by his own demons. He shook with happiness and nervousness at the sight of me. He told me he had been waiting for 29 years to see me again and tears filled his broken eyes. I had walked firmly through my fear to discover no fear was there at all. In fact, he seemed to be the one who was in fear. And, my inclination was to assure him that fear is only the beginning of freedom and we need not be consumed by it (as I have been taught). He was easily distracted, seemed to constantly be looking over his shoulder and could hardly sit still. His explanations for the circumstance of my time in foster care and becoming a ward of the state didn't feel accurate in my gut, but it didn't matter. None of that mattered. It was his story, not mine. At one point the topic of the heart came up. Very apropos. First it came up as just the physical heart. He told me he didn't understand why people thought the heart was on the left side, because really it was in the middle of your chest. As he said this, his head and eyes dropped and he said, "I wonder though, if I have a heart at all". He went on to talk about being in the Vietnam war, what he did there, what it was like to come home and be called a baby killer, and of all the horrible things he had done in his life. It is one thing to understand the concept of forgiveness, but it is another thing to be blessed enough to be in a position to practice it with the full capacity of the heart. I told him that he absolutely has a heart. We all do. I told him that even though he has done things that are dark, that he deserves to be able to change, to be loved and that he can forgive himself for these things. He said with a sadness I cannot adequately describe, "that is the hard part". I responded simply by explaining that it may be difficult, but it is not impossible. And, then I had the chance to tell him what my soul so desperately needed to say. That is, "I forgive you, now it's your turn". I felt the piece I had been missing replace and reposition itself directly back into my center. Years healed in that moment.
We went to his house, a mobile home in the middle of a desert trailer park. He showed me pictures of him as a boy and of his parents. I saw myself in the eyes of his mother. The pictures of a big eyed boy stared back at me in black and white. No monster. Only a child who's life was to bring abuse and war and slowly take all of his pieces away. That is why, I believe, he went on to perpetuate the cycle of abuse. I saw the history of his father and his father's father and could feel the ancestral line of perpetuating abuse. I saw vividly in my mind my great grandfather, an Apache indian, and his warrior nature. And, I realized how powerful a moment this was. I was there to stop the cycle. Here, with me, the cycle stops. I refuse to allow it to pass through me. So, I turned around and mirrored to him through forgiveness that he too can change abuse to compassion. I felt the profound resonance of the quote "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and realize that the prisoner was you." I was free. There is so much power in being able to love the monster anyway. I believe monsters are only monsters because they lack love. Love heals. With love, the monsters will slowly stop being monsters. Love really is the answer.
I knew that I needed to leave within a short period of time and that I was not going to give him my contact information. This was simply to forgive and face my fears. I said goodbye feeling tenderness, compassion and hope for the person I had blamed so much pain in my life on. I left feeling lighter. Before I left the trailer park, I thanked the beautiful cats that he keeps as pets for loving him. I thanked them because I saw that they and my sister had been the only things keeping any gentleness alive in his heart. Although I felt/feel a significant amount of sorrow for him, I refuse to carry it. It is not mine. I carried his stuff around for years. So, no more. I realized that with this piece back and the power of forgiveness, I have that much more to heal myself with. I do not want to harbor the negative anymore. Lyme, you're next. And, I have more to fight you with now.
So here I stand on Hopi ground, which feels quite cathartic. The Apache were the fierce warriors and their blood is in my veins. The Hopi are the peaceful tribe, and I carry them in my heart and their teachings in the practice of evolving my heart.
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