Finding clarity is essential in this final quarter of my life. The way I live now is my legacy; it is my story. I am focused on simplifying, enjoying quiet times, and living intently. My relationship with “my people” is what is most important to me. I need them. I am grateful for those in my life who are good for my soul, and I am blessed with a real family centered on unconditional love and acceptance: my husband Joe, my children, my grandchildren, and my chosen family. Maya Angelou’s words, “Family isn’t always blood, it’s the people in your life who want you in theirs,” inspire me to find meaning in my pain and re-author my narrative.
Still, I continue to be challenged, searching for answers to our family’s fracture—my biggest heartache—following our father’s death. Why couldn’t we work through our differences? Asking “why” held me back for years. I trust God has a reason for my pain, so I am choosing to stop looking backward at the question and instead ask, “What’s next?”
It is still a daily battle. I get triggered watching families who celebrate life together. Growing up, I thought we were that family. I miss what I thought I had, but I have to face the hard truth that I lived in an illusion. I am grateful for the good memories, but I am angry at the situation. When I get pulled back into the pain of that breakup, I begin to struggle with the guilt and shame of the “what-ifs” and “should-haves.” Yet, I must remind myself that I did my best at the time with the knowledge I had. My only hope throughout was wanting my family to be whole. Through mindfulness, I have learned to acknowledge those triggers, work through them, and keep moving forward.
Through counseling, I have come to understand that my perception is not always absolute reality, just as theirs is not. Perceptions can be distortions. Truth is reality, yet illusions persist because we have been conditioned to accept only what is presented to us, including the delusions of others.
My search for clarity led me to understand that hurt travels through families for generations until someone finally stands still and chooses to truly feel the pain. My family’s generational spell was avoidance. It was passed down by those who acted as if certain things weren’t happening around them. Avoidance was our automatic answer to managing drama and stress; it always seemed easier to put things off, hoping all would be taken care of “tomorrow.” In our family dynamics, too much emphasis was placed on those “tomorrows” and on blind trust. Unintentionally, we never took the time nor gave the respect to one another to meet the emotional needs of every family member.
Eventually, generational pain must be felt if a cycle is ever going to be broken. There is a psychological theory that “somewhere down the line, a child is born whose purpose is to feel it all.” I often wonder: is this my destiny? I accept that I will be free of this pain only when it is done teaching me. I am ready to be free. I have worked too hard in search of my true self and these answers; I deserve inner peace.
Breakthrough in the Light and the Dark
This internal shift crystallized during a recent trip. A breakthrough in my search for inner peace occurred when Joe and I visited Iceland with close friends. Observing the Northern Lights was a truly spiritual experience—a moment where we felt God’s presence through the absolute beauty of creation. But right after that awe-inspiring experience, I had a terrifying, vivid nightmare regarding our family’s struggles. I believe it was a direct invitation from God to address our unresolved conflict. On my search for inner peace, that nightmare began to speak to me, illuminating a new pathway for personal growth. It led me to where I am now: choosing to emotionally “let go” of my siblings, even if only in my mind. I wish each of us the best. I pray for the four of us.
Part of breaking this generational spell led me to look into the mirrors of my past, where I became aware of generational patterns of people-pleasing and codependency. My father was a classic people-pleaser. He was a strong, beautiful role model for me; he possessed an integrity and a care for others that was deeply inspirational. My codependent behavior was largely learned from my mother, who was my best friend. Before my father’s death, I based my life choices mainly on the course my mother wanted me to take. I deeply needed her to be proud of me. In later years, when I chose a course of action, she was fundamentally against, our relationship was severely challenged during the final years of her life. Still, I will always hold our bond safely in my heart.
Unconsciously, I modeled that same codependent behavior for my own daughter. Becoming aware of this has been a profound blessing for us. Together, my daughter and I are consciously breaking this pattern. We are learning the vital importance of self-care and boundaries. Our choices need to be about what is right for us, just as what others do needs to be what is right for them. This is an immense challenge for those of us who did not learn the value of boundaries early in life. Codependency hurt us both, but today, we are learning from our past and embracing the present moment. We recognize that we each have the power to create the kind of life we want to live. We encourage and support one another in an authentic relationship built on a deep level of understanding, honesty, and mutual respect.
Reclaiming the Narrative
I realize now that in our family of origin three entirely different narratives were happening at the same time:
- The desire to stop, address our differences, and begin to heal before moving forward.
- The “someday plan”, which focused on what was best for everyone later without ever looking back.
- The demand for absolute truth and accountability.
Because our divergent perceptions, needs, and wants were never openly shared, a quiet divide grew. Was there a single right or wrong way? We each thought so. Were we so focused on convincing others that our way was the only way? It is highly possible. At the end of the day, we were just individuals fighting for what we believed was right.
Through counseling, while addressing my inability to get past these false narratives, I gained a deeper understanding of the “competition for control” over the narrative. Your narrative is your story, just as my narrative is my story. I am finally taking control of writing my own. I choose to be true to myself, make peace with my history, and grow past the pain and shame of old mistakes. I accept myself, others, and my life’s circumstances exactly as they are. This is exactly where my life is supposed to be right now. For this, I am deeply grateful. I accept my past, and I continue to move forward with a profound gratitude for finally finding myself.
Let go of the illusion. Reclaim the truth. Honor the peace. What does it mean to you to emotionally “let go” of someone in your mind while still holding love or prayers for them?
Join the Conversation
Thank you for sitting with my heart and my story today. I am opening this safe, quiet space for us to learn, heal, and grow together. If you feel moved to share, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below:
- The author identifies “avoidance” as their family’s generational spell. Looking at your own family history, what was the unwritten rule or automatic response to drama and stress?
- Do you ever feel like the family member “whose purpose is to feel it all”? How can you protect your own energy while still honoring that depth of feeling?