I'M A FRAUD


Hello lovely readers. Today I have something quite momentous to share with you. Yesterday, I finally made peace with my Mother after 41 years. Yep, you read that right.

My struggles, traumas and experiences of life growing up alone with my violent paranoid schizophrenic mother are, by now, reasonably well told. Well, if you've been among my lovely followers for a while, you'll have heard my story anyway. But, here's what I haven't shared, until now.

I have to be totally honest here among you beautiful likeminded souls that I love and trust. I never really made peace with my Mother. I blamed her. I resented her. And, I've been angry with her for the longest time. Despite all the other work I've done, tools I've designed, techniques I've developed and everything I've shared with wonderful clients that has been nothing less of transformational for them, the legacy of mine and my mother's relationship has hung over me like Winnie the Pooh's little black rain cloud. And yes, there have been times I've called on it for justification when I've felt less like carrying on. Used it as an excuse. Yes, me. I know, right?

Yep, in spite of all my successes and developments, I always felt there was still something sticking, like a fish bone in the throat. I could feel an obstacle but couldn't truly identify it. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm still hoodwinking you. I knew!!! I just didn't want to admit it to myself because that would mean letting go. It would mean facing it and dealing with it and, until yesterday, I honestly didn't know how I would do that.

Yesterday would have been Mildred's (my mother) 88th birthday. She died on New Years eve 2009/10. I didn't know that until my long lost cousin managed to track me down via the Salvation Army to let me know. At that point, I hadn't seen or heard from my mother for over 20 years. Following my Dad's funeral in 1987 and after claiming his entire estate (they were never divorced, only separated), Mildred disappeared in to the mist and I never heard from her again. Before my Dad died, a week after my 21st birthday, I hadn't seen my mother since I was 12 years old.

So, my relationship with my mother really only consisted of twelve very on and off, broken years, with lots of intervals when she would be committed and I would be sent to stay with her sister or put in to foster care. I'd say, in total, I probably had around eight or nine years with Mildred. But boy oh boy are those few years etched on my memory and burned in to my very soul.

You've heard the stories I'm sure, so I wont re tell them here. Suffice to say though, many would say I was probably more than justified in feeling the way I did about Mildred. However, here's what I came to realise. She's gone. She's gone, moved on and, whatever your beliefs about what happens after death, she's not at all affected by any of what happened while she was here. Her demons are no longer haunting her. The voices in her head have probably stopped, and I like to think she's finally at peace. Meanwhile, I've been walking around under that little black rain cloud and I've been doing it by choice. Don't get me wrong, I congratulate myself for escaping that horrific life, for developing myself in to a pretty decent adult, for working hard at learning all it took to make my life a good one. A life tha