I so want to beat them into submission. I so want to do onto them what was done to me. I so want to crack the whip. But I won’t let myself. Instead, I take myself away, I go sit with my pain. I let the tears flow, the sobs shaking my whole body. It’s like putting myself in the cross. I willingly go through my childhood, I allow myself to feel all it’s agony again. But this time, I am redeeming myself, my children and the future generations. Because I took myself away, because I didn’t beat them into submission with threats, promises or blows, I know they won’t need to do it to their children. Sometimes I resent having to go through it. I wish there was an easier way. I rebel against “God’s plan” and pledge to find a better way: ‘I will beat evil and turn the Earth into Heaven by waving my magic wand!’ But I don’t have a magic wand, and so far the only way I’ve found to get out of crap is to go through it. Like crucifying myself, willingly. I guess part of the magic is that willingness to be there, the “accepting what is”, as Eckhart Tolle puts it. That’s what makes it healing.
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