Journey to Love & Gratitude
Starting to blog again gave me the impetus to write my book. It’s been too long since I even thought the idea to write a book. I was so excited about getting past “self doubt” with the blogging, that I called myself out on Facebook by announcing, “TODAY I started writing my book.” I thought if I did that, my tribe would hold me accountable – lol
So some have asked, “What’s your book going to be about?” What is the topic I am most proficient in? It’s ME! At first I thought maybe it was a bit egotistical; but again, my experience can help someone else and, if not anything else, perhaps give them hope. I wrote a few pages and realized I was starting to get choked up; I crumbled that piece of paper and continued on a fresh page. Choked up because I was remembering when my father left us … I was 8 or 9 years old, maybe younger.
One of my biggest emotional scars growing up was not having my father. As I got older and becoming interested in boys, I could not believe they really “liked” me. I often thought if my father left (and I interpreted that as not loving me/us), how could another boy/man like/love me? It was awful. That was the beginning of my low self-esteem; never thinking I was good enough…and then my Mother. She should have been a Drill Instructor for the United States Marine Corps. She was tough ~ and had quite a job on her hands raising two girls as a single parent in The Bronx. I was disciplined for sure, but not nurtured and that was the beginning of my journey, my search for love.
Young, foolish, naive and alone most of the time, I began parenting myself. At such a young age, I was not making the wisest choices and I certainly paid for those bad decisions thru the receiving end of the belt buckle. In grammar school, I was in the color guard. My Mother found out I played hooky from school and showed up at the color guard assembly. She walked right up on stage, picked up my skirt and wacked me with the belt in front of my schoolmates. Right up through my freshman year in college, I was beaten…one time so bad that I wore tights in the summer to hide the belt strap marks on my skinny legs.
My emotions were deeply hidden; I had no one to talk to …. where were life coaches back then? Instead…I began my journey with psychiatrists, psychologists, neurologists, therapists, etc. and anti-depressants….which brought me to my love for alcohol. And so the journey of this alcoholic begins…. and all I wanted was LOVE. Neither one of my parents were taught how to love. Their focus was on ensuring their children had food and shelter and a decent education. After this many years, I have realized my parents were not at fault…they did the best they could. And I had to remember who taught them. LOVE was not high on the list of life’s necessities. I have worked very hard at forgiving them. I have also worked extremely hard on my inner self, realizing what a beautiful person I am and how easy it is to love me. It’s taken years to get here but I’m happy to know that I matter, I have a voice and God loves me.
I have been blessed with teachers of the spirit (i.e. Marianne Williamson) and many others. I continue to learn about self-love and, although, I will tear up here and there writing this book, I am extremely grateful for it all.