In my dream, I was at my maternal grandmother's home. It was very dark inside. I was trying to get ready, frantically putting on make-up in the dark. I couldn't see what I was doing, but I was desperate to ready myself and leave. I looked like a mess, everything kept smudging. My Mascara was all over my eyelids.
When I woke, I kept thinking about how dark it was in her house. The darkness made my make up an absolute mess. I asked myself: What does this mean? What is my heart trying to tell me?
As I moved through my morning, making my bed, getting my children breakfast, having my coffee. I kept returning to that dream. Why was it so difficult to do my make up? Why was it so dark?
Then it dawned on me.
I've been trying so hard to prepare myself for this world. Trying to make an impact. Trying to do my own thing yet feeling like I'm failing miserably.
I realized the darkness in my dream, my maternal grandmother's home, represents the heaviness passed down through the generations. I didn't have the same opportunities as others when it came to preparing myself to go out to the world and it's like trying to get ready in the dark. All the people before me both male and female, carrying trauma that went unchecked and unhealed. That generational weight now resting on my shoulders and all the other shoulders of everyone healing right now. It impacts how we move, it has shaped our deep trauma responses that we still carry.
We all carry a certain level of darkness on our shoulders. A certain level of unpreparedness for the world. A residue of unhealed energy and trauma.
I think this dream was brought to me now because I am deeply navigating the emotional waters of my own healing. I feel so conflicted. I feel deep compassion and empathy for the trauma, the abuse and everything else those before me endured. I feel sadness and grief because no one deserves to endure such pain. I feel rage at the way they were treated and treated each other. But I also feel a deep sense of responsibility to feel and be the change with enormous pressure to not fail not only my family but my entire ancestory line.
And I think this is where the real power lies.
It's in these deeply uncomfortable, confronting, full body responses. The kind that unearths wounds not only from our own childhood but the generations before us. Ancestral wounds and Soul wounds.
We carry lifetimes of trauma and with that trauma we built psychological fortresses. Brick by Brick. Each brick laid to protect us. It was necessary. It was vital. We were in survival mode. Deep warfare. Doing the only thing we knew how. But at some point, the danger passed. We were no longer under threat. But our bodies didn't know that.
The fortress we built to protect ourselves became our prison.
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