Shadow of Victimhood

My roomate has a house guest over the last several days. The woman has written a book called “Mis-mothered” and wants to turn it into a screenplay. As I make coffee and overhear their conversations my heart is so heavy. The woman’s book is about her mother who passed away years ago. She retells in a memoir the horrific memories she had from her childhood which will put her mother (in Heaven) in a very bad light.

She told me that writing the story brought her healing because she faced the trauma that she had endured as a child. However, I wonder what she thinks the outcome of such a book will be. It’s root spirits that inspire such a work are victimhood, blame and expectation. These are the 3 spirits that I was taught about after Covid hit in 2020. I was visited by an angel named Fury who spoke to me about these diseases of the heart that would come upon the people.

I relate to her. I too had a difficult childhood and still today don’t have the reconciliation with my mother I hoped to one day receive. She’s never said she was sorry or even told me the truth of the many questions I have about my conception and beyond. But in the pain I find purpose. If we don’t see what causes hurt to the heart of others we don’t know how to go about life differently to guard the hearts of children from our own tendencies and human nature.

As a mother I have all of the temptations and good reason to hate my ex-husband and my mother too if I want to do what the world teaches in society today; fall into the shadow of victimhood and tell the stories that cast blame on the souls of others. But this is my walk and I believe it was predestined for me to be here in the very situations that were handed to me. They may not be fair and they may not feel good but I have two kids who are interested in their roots. Anything dark I cast upon the names of their ancestors will no doubt impact the way they view themselves, the way they view love and the way they view the world.

When my mother told me horrible stories about my biological father it didn’t make me hate the man I never knew, it made me hate myself for the beast that I thought I must be as a descendant of such evil. I questioned my DNA and the personality, traits and footsteps before me set there to follow. Yet decades later when I met his children I was given a new set of stories. They spoke of the man as a saint and a beacon of love in their lives. This was so healing for me and I recognize today how much better off I’d have been throughout my journey to have only had these stories to hold onto.

What good did it do anyone to share stories of evil acts, trauma and wrong doing? I’m not suggesting we lie about our experiences or feel unsafe to speak the truth. I’m simply questioning the spirit by which we do these things and asking myself what the outcome is to it all. When people share stories of saints and good acts, we see humans aspire to be like them and walk in faith that they can be loving, kind and inspirational beacons of light on this planet. And when we share stories of darkness, we inspire humans to consider that they might be capable of such paths.

When God made the earth and mankind he said it was “all good.” Then when Adam and Eve ate of a tree of knowledge that gifted them the ability to see good and evil, death, sickness and all things in between entered this planet (according to the story of the Bible). Perhaps there’s something for us to see here today. We all have stories of good and evil. If we seek inside of our memories we will find them and we get to be the judge of what stories we wish to tell the world. Whatever we choose to give our energy and our voice to will indeed multiply and gain power.

This is all a reminder to me today that I wish to tell stories of the good. I wish to use my voice to speak gratitude, hope and see the light in others no matter how hard it may be to find. I wish to see my path as a journey full of lessons that gift me the choice to walk in light or walk in darkness; to love others or hate them, to blame them or forgive them (keeping no record of wrong), and to aspire to build places that heal rather than places that keep us stuck in the sickness of reliving everything that’s called bad.

My roomate has told me that I should write a book about all of the bad things loved ones did to me. Today I’m grateful for the looking glass I’m given to see that I absolutely do not wish to do that. My children are my purpose and I wish for them to believe they are children of God; wonderfully and perfectly made with a light that loves love and as a dog is trained to stay away from poisonous plants I look at the temptation of the other and say to myself, “Leave it.” I don’t want to touch anything that spreads victimhood, blame or expectation.

My mother gave me a home, clothes, a bed to sleep in and somehow she protected me enough to be alive still today. She cares for my dog and she loves animals. She took care of her dad and she cares for her husband who is sick today. It’s not up to me to decide how God stirs her heart for others and what her calling is that motivates her to love some and leave another. That is between her and God. Likewise, God leads me to love what I love and to have little stirred compassion for other things. In free will we learn to stay in our own lanes, care for the people who are given to us today and to seek the doorway upward to higher love in all of our thoughts, desires and well-doing.