There’s a long herstory of emotional neglect and abuse running throughout my matrilineal ancestry. It’s not something that was acknowledged or even understood when I was a child. You just grow up thinking that whatever circumstances you’re born into are completely normal because you don’t know any different.
Reaching middle years has been a huge turning point, like I’ve climbed that ancestral massif and, turning to view the ascent, I clearly see the carnage strewn across the landscapes of past generations.
I have a grown daughter now, who has children of her own, and I realise how important it is to own your shit, to truly understand every flame and shadow. I’ve been the narcissist, and the empath, and so I can tell you with absolute certainty that there’s a place of healing beyond those polarities where we can slowly deepen connections with each other; where we can teach our grandchildren about love and life, not through educational endeavours, but just by being our authentic, messy, beautiful selves.