How I stopped blaming my mother for the way she raised me.

Hello internet.

Yesterday I was trying to think about why I couldn’t verbalize my wants and dreams properly. I was getting teaching and performance gigs for dancing but i felt upset in my stomach. I was trying to do these visioning exercises, and mantras and for some reason they couldn’t stick.

I felt that mentally, i had so much momentum going on the other direction. (I drew a tarot card, ten of spirals, a centaur on the crossroads. Carrying with him too much of what’s passed. An iching hexagram: returning, trying to recreate past regrets)

All my mistakes, all the billions and billions of reasons, why it’s too late, and that will never work, that I’m too hurt and traumatized to even genuinely bother being any good. Things would just be easier if I change interests, there’s no money, it will be hard. You’ve tried already,  it’s okay you did your best. give up. I’ve been trying to heal this for two years already.

 

And to be real with you. A part of me really did.

Read my posts about my favorite stories and anime, and you would know that I would have a thing for sports characters with career-ending , debilitating freaking traumatizing injuries. They bothered me. Having something swept under you, having all your hopes and dreams dashed before your eyes. It was super relatable and perfectly illustrated my pain. I lived with so much regret and what ifs and I blamed it all on my mother.

I’ve been telling this story for five years, she forced me to stop dancing.

She was the reason I quit. And i have every right to be mad and be valid.

 

But.

Did you know that all of the cells of your body change every 7 years? I’ve changed so much in these 5 years, I’m happier, more centered – hell I’m a way better dancer. I can barely relate to the thoughts of that 2013 me. I don’t even remember much from that year except the frustration then sudden devastation. It’s a faded memory yet i carry that statement with me everywhere i go. i blame her, i blame her, i blame her.

 

Which is alright to be honest.

But don’t I have better things to put my energy and time in? I’m not even arguing with myself from a spiritual perspective or a psychological perspective. Like just the MERE economics of it, simple math. Don’t i have BETTER things to put my energy into ? It doesn’t have to be positive – it just has to be neutral.

 

What was supposed to be a peaceful meditation session, got into a full blown argument with myself.

WHO FUCKING CARES WETHER YOU HAD BALLET TRAINING AS A CHILD. They want you to teach what the hell are you shooting your own foot for, you insecure child ?

WHY ARE YOU PLAYING THE VICTIM CARD ???

YEah i know you’ve intellectualized those arguments, you’ve made such a nice damn russian novel about it but it’s played out now. It’s freacking OLD NEWS. If you keep it, you’ll stay in the role you wrote yourself in. Kawawa, poor you, caged and weak.

IT’S SO BORING ??

Like this would be easier, i know if you just got into dancing again with all your memories wiped off. None of the dogma none of the trauma. Just this affinity to movement and music and hell you’ll fricking just fly across the board. It’s your damn head that’s getting in your own way.

YOU’re mother is actually askign you know why the hell aren’t you teaching yet ???

how the tables have turned.

 

 

AND I KNOW THAT SOUNDS REALLY SHITTY. AND NOW THAT You’re actually listening to reason you’re in this intermediary step of feeling depressed about it. Like this.

Like fuck, “I wasted my own time, all that time and energy” or “i’ve been stuck in this mopey drama for so long, i wouldn’t know what to do once i get out of the cage. What do you mean freedom ? What do you mean i could do what i want?”

 

SHUTUP. JUST DO IT. Literally just drop the story, just don’t bring it up anymore because it was a forgettable detail of your life. Fuck your mom. You’re moving on. You’re on a fresh page and that’s the most important step.

Write a new story.

 

I did a mental exercise. I imagined all the blame I placed on my mother and that story, that excuse i had for being ‘less of me’. I thought of all the times i offered an amazing explanation of why my dance life is shitty and that there was no moving on. I packed all the times i had my hopes dashed before me into a little egg of outrageous trash and I just felt it with the full force of me mental and spiritual capacity.

I told it to go to the garbage bin.

I commanded it – in the count of 100 to be completely vanquished by all things I held sacred. I do this a lot when i do shamanic practices, I count up my power from 0-100 , imagining an exponential scale to my power. My power raisd to the number one billion, then two billion , then three trillion trillion until I come up to these insane large numbers always commanding more energies to course through me. To heal me. To convert this vile trash and be recycled into something new.

I’m reclaiming all the energy i put into this toxic story. I’m getting it back.

I draw another tarot card: blue skies. fairies in a chariot race.

iching: the hexagram of creative power. A dragon in flight.

 

I feel insanely good after reaching up to my power raised to 100 jillion jillion. I felt unstopabble. I felt that, both mentally and phsyically my problems felt further away and i can actually be clearer with what I want. I want to nail the class I’m teaching on tuesday. I want to have fun dancing on my birthday next week.

I want to teacher assist til may, fuck the one hour drive im doing this. after which I’ll ask to open up my own class every saturday from my coach. I’ll stir up enough courage to post about it on fb, knowing I put in the work to make the syllabus good. I’ll teach closer to my house after, but I will have my own class this year. None of that in my 40s anymore. I’m doing it NOW. I’m walking towards it NOW.

It doesn’t have to be an immediate result but I need to know what I want and commit to it. Being a dance teacher, being seen as a professional dancer. Being a fricking goddamn artist.

By winter I’ll help maam ana teach choreography for recital.

I’m clearer now.

 

And I’m done playing the blame game.

Maalia

 

PS: So. What are the honest to god limits that you have put upon yourself because of your parents? A thing you can’t do or be. Or a judgement call and harshness you keep echoing in your head that you say came from their own mouths. We’ve got a lot of karma with our parents, unresolved energies we’ve kept for years.

But how many years has it been long gone and shouldn’t those things have an expiry date?

So yo, feel free to talk to me about it. Hell I can’t even attempt to talk about this in some nice authorial voice because it’s just so raw, but who cares right ? Who cares if it’s just a random blog that triggered you to do major crying self-healing session in your room. WHO CARES ?? I’m here, so yeah. Hit me up, we can even draw cards haha

 

 

your soul is welcome here

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