I’m Not Broken, I’m Breaking Chains

I have been in the arms of a loving partner.  I have been surrounded by caring family and friends.  I have experienced the warm squeezes from the tiny embraces of my very own children and still felt very needy and alone.  

Where does this come from?  Why don’t I feel loved?  

I’ve been on a quest to truly love myself for the past year or so.  I thought I loved myself.  I mean, I did what you’re supposed to do.  I ate healthy, exercised, rested, took time for self-care, and so on, yet the moment my self-love was tested by a relationship gone sour, I failed.

There was a void, a place in my heart that no one person could fill.  There are several empty spaces in my heart, much like an old leaky roof, that I am repairing one by one.  Trauma from childhood has left me feeling broken at several points in my adult life. 

A Painful Memory

When I was five years old, my mother worked nights at a nearby retail store.  She would make me a quick bean and cheese burrito for dinner with a small plastic tangerine colored Tupperware cup filled with fruit punch Kool-Aid and make her walk to work.  Yes, she walked because for the longest time, a vehicle was out of the budget. 

Mommy left me in the care of her irresponsible boyfriend, who, unbeknownst to her, would also leave our upstairs apartment shortly after her.  I dare not tell her that he had gone for fear of retaliation.

I sat on our brown upholstered couch watching nickelodeon shows for kids.  Within a few hours, the sun would set and the once warm and hazy room turned dark, lit only by the light of our old Zenith T.V. screen.  What was once my favorite cartoons had become Nick at Nite, which meant reruns of “Laverne and Shirley” and “Welcome Back Carter.” 

I was so young and so afraid of the dark that I sat on the couch paralyzed, not brave enough to dash to the hallway to flip the light switch on.  Never mind getting up to go to the restroom, so I’d sometimes pee myself.  It all depended on how long he was gone or how close to my mother’s arrival time he decided to come back home.  

These memories still pain me.  The mere thought of them causes the air in my chest to escape and my heart to sink with heaviness just as it did so many years ago. 

How could anyone leave such a young child home alone?

RELATED TOPIC: Coming to Terms with my Toxic Mother

Mending My Heart

I’ve learned to work through some of these feelings through gratitude for the good that has come from my experiences.  They shaped the kind of mother that I am today.  But the wounds…the voids are still there.  I’m learning to fill them.  When I think back on little Tara sitting alone on that worn out couch, heart racing and longing for care, I recreate the scene. 

Now, I’m sure there’s got to be some name for this practice that I’m unaware of.  I don’t know which doctor takes credit for this form of therapy.  I didn’t learn it in therapy.  I just started doing inner child work out of necessity and it is helping me heal.

The new scene still begins with little Tara alone in the dark, but she is then greeted by my adult self, who holds her tightly and assures her that she is safe.  She then lifts her off of the couch, carries her to the bathroom and turns the light on.  The darkness is gone. 

“I love you, sunshine”, I whisper tenderly.  “You are safe.”

Oh, the number of years my young heart yearned to hear those words from my mother.  Oh, the number of years it has taken me to forgive her and take the reins of healing into my own hands.

I take it a step further and imagine that little Tara is surrounded by loving friends, family and mentors who have impacted her life over the years.  Beautiful souls who offered their light when her own was but the weakest flicker.  

I take one more step and picture, grown Tara on that same couch embracing her three children today.  Little Tara is there too, squished between us all and she is so thankful that everything turned out ok. 

My children get to know her each time I choose love.  They see her when I choose discomfort over familiar generational patterns that perpetuate more hurt.  

Chain Broken

It’s then that I can feel the void shift.  No longer do I feel alone.  No longer is the space in my heart empty.  It is so full of love.  Love that only I could fill myself with and with the help of my higher power, who allowed me to have the life that I’ve experienced to this day.  

Moving forward, I will not be burdened by these memories.  My children will not know the same hurt nor will their children.  Love wins. 

I am not broken.  I am breaking chains.