CHAPTER 4
It was impossible for me to have separated religion from my everyday life in my adolescent and teen years; because my views of God and all that I chose to do, think, and say, were so completely tied up in worrying about what God was thinking about me at any one given moment. Was I doing something right...or wrong? This fear was with me during all my reflective moments.
Funny. In spite of all the great emotional struggles I went through, I absolutely loved life itself. I took great refuge in my day dreams, my imagination and enthusiasm for life itself. I knew, somehow, that life could ...and would be...wonderful. The great love and curiousity I always had about life, I believe, preserved my sanity and kept me from 'breaking.'
As I write this, it is important for my readers to know that I do not blame my mother for the role she played in my life. I did, however have to come to terms with her influence, be brave enough to become really angry with her--and then be finally willing to release it all, and see it everything in a new light.
Growing up under the ever present cloud of Fear and Guilt Conditioning is something one never completely 'get's over'...and perhaps we are not meant to 'forget about it' either. It all becomes a part of Who We Are and All That We Have Learned... and this is something I would eventually learn to ACCEPT...and not retaliate against. This, I learned, is how we are able to go forward...to flow downstream rather than struggle upstream, as Abe would say.
Buddhism emphasizes what we resist, persists. Once we learn what the Universal Law of Attraction is all about ...we are able to comprehend what Buddha, Jesus, and other great teachers were talking about.
Many wonderful eye-opening, heart warming, mind opening elements of Light and Truth would be revealed to me in future years that would help me to heal the fears that lurked in the corners of my mind. Seth taught us that we possess many conflicting beliefs...The stronger of the beliefs always 'wins' and is what manifests into our lives. So, in spite of being continuously afraid of this angry, wrathful god... I was able, somehow, to separate the dreaded fearful influences from the positive ideas: the happy thoughts, the genuine Lust for Life -- and still be able to turn into what most people generally seem to observe about me: that I am a positive person. My talent for my 'acting ability' in high school proved to be a saving grace, because, as I would learn later: how you 'act' is one way of manifesting it. My talent for music was also a saving grace, because it was one of the only ways I could safely express my emotions without fear of condemnation.
I believe I got some good out of learning to be a People Pleaser, also...because it did...it genuinely did make me Feel Good to help others be happy... though it was just momentarily. So even though pop psychology would teach that I only would do that for reasons of approval and self-validation-- I had to learn to say: Screw Them. You know what works for you. Nobody else does.
My ideas of what "God" was, became the single most harmful and self-damaging belief system I have ever contended with in this lifetime. I realize, perhaps, my name is Legion as I say this. I was never taught that God was 'love', or kind, or compassionate, or understanding...let alone any of the other ideas that other people may have had. To me God was this all powerful man one needed to 'obey'... He was much bigger than any human man. He was always angry, always wrathful, always seeking to punish you for even the tiniest little 'bad' fleeing thought. There was absolutely no pleasing "Him." There was only the hope of doing enough things 'right' --so that I would temporarily be spared from his wrath. My idea of LOVE was not a 'heavenly father' who would be willing to cause his innocent son to die a pitifully painful death. That whole story is SO horrendous. Even as 'symbolism' I have no respect for it--at least not in the way I was able to understand it. There was NO real forgiveness of any kind from this God. None. I never really trusted that 'blood of Christ will save you' bit. Everything was written down by God and remembered. As my mother continuously reminded me: Someday you'll pay for it.
My mother constantly using God as a whipping board against me, as well as the other threatening tales of punishment, prevented me from seeing any kind of loving acceptance from this God. I now am able to see that my idea of God...and what my mother was to me ... were identical. Neither one ever loved or accepted me 'just as I was.' I was never, ever good enough. Regardless of how hard I tried, how many awards I won in music or acting competitions,, she never once...not once...said: you did a good job. It was always exactly the same thing: "It was alright.. next time you can do better." She was never proud of anything I did. Ever. "Next time do better" ... Having no idea then about reincarnation, my chances of pleasing God were nil. One life. One chance. One heaven. One hell...and there was little doubt of where I would end up...knowing I was bound to 'pay for it.'
The Dogma that any church teaches doesn't exactly give you the warm fuzzies. I thought this dogma came straight from God. I had no way of knowing it was all man-made. I am now able to see just how bloody primitive religious dogma and all fear based beliefs actually are. Basically no different than a cave man praying to a volcano in hopes of it not erupting and causing death and destruction. Isn't it amazing how a person can thing he is complimenting another by calling another 'god-fearing.' Oh my.
I remember attending a few revival meetings with some friends. Came the time to 'raise your hand if you want to give yourself to the lord' I would gingerly raise my hand, not knowing if I would feel 'good and saved' or be struck down by God for messing around with this kind of stuff. Anyway. Nothing ever happened.
I envied my friends often for never seemingly going through any of these soul struggles. They simply always seemed at peace and content. Of course, that meant they were 'good' and I 'wasn't.' What other interpretation could there possibly be?
Accidently finding my adoption papers (on one of those infamous Sunday afternoons while my parents napped) both shocked me as well as confirmed to me that maybe there was a good reason why I was always so 'different.' Confessing to them later that I had found them proved to be an interesting time. My mother didn't seem to react too much to this 'news.' Greeting Daddy happily (I was 14 years old) as he came up the kitchen porch steps with "Guess what, Daddy, I found out I was adopted and it's all OK"... made him momentarily turn pale and then he just hurried past me. Later my mother accused me: "You made him cry." Daddy had spotted who he thought was my birth mother peeking down the steps of the maternity home when they came to pick me up when I was but 11 days old. He described her in a nice way as small, pretty, with dark hair. His kindness in telling me this made me feel good.
Knowing now that I was adopted gave my mother further opportunity to often say, "SHE didn't want you. It was ME that changed your dirty diapers!" ...so even as a baby I was dirty. The one and only good thing she ever said about my very earliest years is that I liked it when we walked outside through the flowers. I treasure that one 'good' memory. I wondered if God loved me when I was a baby. I'd never know.
Part of the reason that I believe she honestly hated me at times, was because she strongly and very mistakenly believed, at times,that I was actually my father's biological child. During his brief escapades, with his drinking buddies, to Kansas City, these visits included the company of prostitutes. Sadly, he came down with syphillis and she martyred herself, nursing him back to health, and never, ever, ever let him forget what all she put up with. My mother had always thought sex was a low-life, filthy act long prior to that occasion and would tell me "All men are animals." ... I really hoped that my father's flings were fun and enjoyable.
I know it for a fact. You DO cling to the abusive parent. I vowed to always take care of her. I would reassure her after her telling me many times about 'what he had done.' She liked it and smiled when I said that she could STILL leave him and I'd look out after her.
The college I would be going to was already chosen by my parents, and I was looking forward to that ...to become a music teacher...also pre-chosen for me, because my biological family was very musical and of some fame in the midwest. As for me, I was looking forward to leaving home and out from under unbelievable strictness.
I had no idea how much of 'home' I would be taking with me.
