Another dream plagued me last night. Lately, I’ve been having disturbing dreams that involve my mom. For so many years now I’ve been living, loving and suffering with her. She has been the fulcrum of the balance of my life’s struggles and happiness. Since moving out, it hasn’t gotten any easier. She’s both angry and upset. I know this. And I care. What she thinks, is that I don’t care and never have…that I just threw everything that she’s given me (mentally, intellectually) away…that I just moved on. That’s definitely not the case. What I know is that I do care, and I have cared. She’s been too blinded by her own inner conflict to see. All the blame is on me all the time. I’m the one that is at fault. Therefore, I’m the one that’s not going to make it and I’m going to regret my decisions because there is only “one right way” according to her. So much blame…so much anger…and sadness. She wants me to be near, but can’t be near enough to herself to pull me close. Instead, she holds on to the darkness inside and in result, pushes the light, (myself and others), away. I wish to be near her, too. I want it to be easy. I’d rather my mother not think of me coming and going and the hard sadness that ensues, but see me for who I am and love and embrace me, no matter what…have me come visit, and have everything be okay. It also would be nice if she could open herself up to letting me or anyone help her. Fat chance.
In my dream, I was home, and the house was dim (as in real life at times…just natural lighting) and it was just my mom and I that were home. I was at the fridge looking for something to eat…I lingered there for quite a while, and then chose to go upstairs to see my mom. When I pushed her door open, she was in the half-light of the TV, in bed, and all around were picture frames covered in bed sheets. I became terrified in that instant and asked, “Are…those…pictures of…me?” She slowly turned her head and shifted her body from under the blankets and replied, “yes”.
Thankfully, it was easy to shake this one upon awakening. Yet, it’s still saddening…it hurts to think that she may be doing that…the covering of the pictures could be a metaphor for her avoiding me and just pushing the issue away as to not be hurt or upset by it. …That’s not going to solve anything. What will is the head on confrontation of the issue…and, in the past, yes, we have talked about what I am doing and we both have expressed how we have felt, but every single time the conversation transforms into an argument, yelling. There’s no solace in that.
My mother needs to not avoid me, or hide behind her anger…there’s something deep inside that is affecting her from the past…I wish I could say what that event was that would be making her that way for so long, but I can’t. So, now, I’ve come to the point where it’s up to me to be my own warrior.
In my Zen book, there was a nice lengthy section on heroes and heroism. The main concept was that heroes and warriors were those who took up their own sword and shield and went to battle or on a quest despite the impending obstacles. Warriors have to be aggressive…but not in the conventional way of forcing violence on someone else out of anger, rather being aggressive means really pursuing what you want and going after it no matter what; it means pushing the boundaries to get through to the other side. In other words, your actions that may appear to be an act of rebellion and aggression, are actually actions moving toward peace.
That’s the path that I am on now. I have taken the call to adventure and I’m now travelling through forests of obstacles to get to the grail that I search for: my own happiness. For the most part, it’s going well. I feel accomplished, strong. I want to show the world what I am capable of…I want to show my family what I’m doing. If only they could know all the inner work that I’ve been doing. And have done. Then, maybe they’d understand who I really am. No matter how strong the warrior, you have to feel love. It’s essential. You have to give and take love in order to survive your quest. And, most of the time you will realize that what you are ultimately fighting for is that love. It’s not to be given up. I hold my love close to my heart; it’s woven within my soul, every fiber is imprinted with passion and compassion. I am the warrior of myself. I will continue to fight, stand tall, be aggressive. I have supporters who are on my side, and with them, I will fight, survive, live and thrive.