Waxing Gibbous Moon in Sagittarius

I spent some time this evening with my grandmother.

She is 89 years old and I had this realization on my drive home, that there are only a handful of times in my adult life that I have willingly gone to spend time with her one on one [without some family event as the catalyst]. I’ve judged myself as being a “bad” grandchild, and felt a guilt that I had a hard time bringing her in close to me. I felt sad that I didn’t ever really know how to connect with her, and found myself not even really wanting to for a long time, and I could never put my finger on why that was.

And it’s only been in the last few years I realized: Trust. I didn’t trust her. I’ve done a lot of unpacking around my resentments and distrust of those who I know love me the best that they can, but it’s taken years of this coming home journey to open myself up to build trust and true relationship with certain people in my life, and especially the women in my family. Because while it was they who I rationally know showed me the most love, and never shied away from telling me exactly how much they loved me—there was a part of me, part south node in 8th House Scorpio [karma to work through around trust and betrayal as a whole in this life] —and then part “little me”, that carried a perception— a story and distrust—that they didn’t protect me; that they stayed out of the line of fire and let me take the heat to protect themselves[the un-mothered mothers— if you haven’t heard of this concept and it just grabbed your attention—read The Ugly Duckling story in “Women Who Run With the Wolves”] … that’s the story my inner child has been carrying around as armor for 30+ years and projected out to keep me on guard and at a “safe” distance from them.

And there is more story there, that maybe i’ll dig into at a later time, but for now, I want to talk about the contrast of what i’m experiencing now, after 20 years of feeling a huge gap between my grandmother and myself and how we are finding our way back to each other, truly meeting for the first time.

One of the best shifts that have come as a byproduct of my coming home to myself— showing up for and as fully me as I can be— is that it has opened the door for those old resentments to be healed and moved out of the way so I can see others clearly and begin to build trust and healthy relationships; especially with those who have always loved me and tried to show me that love in the ways that they knew how—even when I didn’t know how to recognize and receive it.

The bridge I had to cross to meet them was accepting their love without attachment and clearing the way of the hurt I had harbored beneath the surface for so much of my life. It had to be acknowledged [as irrational and gross as it felt to do so], witnessed and processed in order to move it’s way through—in order to make space for a more true, and pure love to flood in. This has been a hard and humbling process for me; one I have leaned into begrudgingly with more projection, blame and “poor me” narratives than any other relationships…

…And then there are boundaries. I had to start setting and holding boundaries from a place of love and integrity, in all areas of my life; around what was ok and not ok for me— and holding those as an act of love, compassion and belonging to myself above all else. Nobody gets exemption from that, including family. Boundaries are the hardest. Especially those that you have decades of history of being a certain way with— it’s a process of stumbling a lot in order to eventually find sure-footing, after face-planting a few times— but it gets easier over time; and i’ll just leave it at that.

It also helps— the clearing space and the forgiveness and the boundaries— it allows me to see them as the perfectly, imperfect humans, doing the best they can— and recognize and accept my own reflection in them.

There is an acceptance that comes; of the truth that none of us get out of our childhoods without some wounds and stories turned beliefs that shape how we show up in the world; that there is trauma we pass along, generation after generation, and when it doesn’t get brought to the surface to be healed, it festers and creates unseen, yet felt wounds that continue to be passed along and played out on those around us and absolutely affects how we love and relate to one another. Acceptance comes when judgement and shame begin to leave the building… when we can begin to see it as it is, instead of how we still judge it should be [or how we would have preferred it to have been], and how powerless we have felt as a result of that which was mostly out of our control to begin with.

And where we reclaim our power amidst all of that which is out of our control: it’s in our decisions— what we do with these experiences. We either face them or we bury them; Lean into the discomfort and pain of processing that which has been festering, or escape and avoid. And I have to say, I have some badass warrior women in my family who at all ages and stages in life, are standing in the discomfort of facing things about self and humanity, love and relationship; things that happened a long time ago, yet affect the way in which they relate to the world around them. And they continually choose growth; they show up for a chance at deeper connection and more truth.

Brave, badass women I come from. 

This is a work in progress, and i’m definitely not there yet…I feel this is going to be a lifelong journey; but in taking the steps, leaning into the vulnerability of trust, the reward is i’m already seeing growth from these seeds that are being planted.

The beautiful thing about knowing my truth is that I can speak about these things, openly with my her now and I feel less and less resistance to allowing her close to me. The more I accept and affirm myself, the easier it is to take the risk of showing her who I am. And the reward is that I can also see and get to know her. And in all of this, as space is cleared, there is room for forgiveness. There is grace in this clearing.

And it’s opening the door for me to see all the beautiful things about her. She is an unbelievably resilient, resourceful and hardworking woman. A woman who was once a young girl who lost her mother too young, and never really had a safe space or home to call her own as she was passed along amongst family until she got married as a young woman. A girl who was only allowed to go to school until 4th grade (because her stepmother lied to her father and she was punished and he refused to send her any longer). Who is left-handed [like me] but being born in 1931, and in school not too many years later when they believed that left handed people were the devil or something ridiculous like that, and was forced to learn how to write right-handed, and now is ambidextrous. Who was acting as mother and father in her household for 6 years to my father and his older sister when my grandfather went to France to work [as he sent money home to them in Portugal]. Who fought for her children— got her family sponsored and visas and immigrated to the United States when my father was 12, so they would have a chance at more than was possible in Portugal, a chance for them to go to college. Who learned a new language, built a business and new home, all after the age of 40 as a means to continue to provide for her family.

She left behind the known and started over, again and again.

She is smart, curious and creatively gifted; has been a seamstress for over 70 years that creates beautiful clothing [and still can’t quite understand why I intentionally cut holes in my jeans, but she has finally given up asking why with me 😂]. She does all the things. And she loves her family fiercely. And her love language is constantly trying to feed us all the food.

And there is so much more she is capable of and so much she still wants to accomplish. Tonight she said to me “I’m a dreamer, and I constantly think, what I want to do tomorrow and next month, and next year… and I’m so old, but I still have so much I want to do and learn”.

She has many stories to tell. So many memories. I swear, she remembers things that happened 75 years ago and I can’t remember what I did last week.

I wonder, had she been born in another time, with more freedom as a woman, as the dreamer she is, who knows what she would have created, though, she has created a lot despite those societal barriers.… and there is so much more I don’t know, because for years I couldn’t get past my resentment and fear and bring myself to stand close enough to her to witness. This is something I am actively working to change.

I realize that I have always wanted in theory to be close with her, but felt blocked. And the cool thing is, that now, as her and I both get more honest about life and the way things were and the way they are different now, we are slowly but surely meeting each other, really for the first time. And it feels different. It feels, still a little uncomfortable, but full of potential. 

I couldn’t meet her in this space— a space of openness and receptivity— until I got out of my own way. And I also needed to speak things to her, that aren’t easy for me. But because I have, and because it’s my truth, She accepts me as I am. And what I have found, is she is a better listener than I ever gave her credit for. We both needed to make amends for ways that we had projected out onto the other. And that is happening, one conversation at a time.

And now that I have let her know how stifling it is to have her projections of who she thinks I should be [based on who the world told her for years she needed to be as a woman], or what she thinks I should be worried about [as a result of her fears and worries], she gives me more space to breathe, and subsequently we both breathe a bit easier, and our conversations get a bit deeper; with more listening, more love— more trust.

I didn’t realize that so much of my frustration for all these years came from the feeling that everyone had this idea of who I was, but never really stopped and looked closely enough to see beneath the surface, never truly saw me or knew me. So there were a lot of assumptions, or a comfort in how I did show up, but it was never me. And that was the part that felt so lonely, so unsafe. And it goes both ways. But in finding me, I’m finding my way to connections within a space that I always have desired but never knew before how to bridge that gap. I didn’t realize that all it really requires is love and a willingness to be fully and unapologetically me and giving others the opportunity and loving space to do the same.

This is about my relationship with my grandmother. And it’s about a bigger, deeper healing that is taking place.

Women coming together, from different generations, remembering how to relate to one another. Sharing stories. Getting honest and raw about what it’s like being a woman in this world, and how that has shifted over time. Breaking down the acceptance of what we “should be grateful for” while the world has done its best to tame us, and bit by bit, shedding the false skin we’ve been wearing, so we can see the true beauty and magic of the wild, creative spark, the life force that lives in our bones and cannot be stripped from us.

Tonight I spent time with the matriarch of my family. We shared space, we talked about relationships— marriage, divorce, family; curiosities about what happens to us after we die and how the Holy Spirit [how she resonates] or Divine [as I prefer to refer to this big energy] lives through us; religion vs. spirituality; the challenges of being human.

A few tears were shed.

And I am feeling full— for this time was nourishing in a way that I can’t describe and I feel hopeful that I will get to know and share more, about the powerhouse of a woman packed in a 5”1’ frame, that is my grandma Maria.

***

Day 10/28: I don’t have much to say other than, i’m grateful for the unfolding that is happening in my life in this present season. It’s too much to describe, and i’m attempting to in these little daily chunks. And I can’t wait to look back on this at some time in the future and witness from the distance how much life can happen in such a short period of time if we are just willing to lean into our fears and take it all in. There is so much juice to this life in the seemingly small moments. I am grateful for this day, for your presence here; for how much is truly possible when we are willing to open ourselves to all that we don’t know. This. Life. Is. Wild. And beautiful. And messy AF. And magical.

Have a beautiful evening, beautiful humans… I’ll see you soon.

With gratitude and always LOVE,