Shadow Work Sunday: Entry 4

Hi again!

It's that time again.

Here to talk about the next question on the Shadow Works initiative. Today's question really made me think. I had to dig deep to come up with something because, in all truth, the grudge that I've been holding on to is something that I always tuck into a box in my brain and don't usually think about. At least, until I think about it.

But before I dive in, let's look at the question and at the Unleashed One's reply.

Do you hold grudges against others that could possibly be let go? What is your motive for holding on to them?

The Unleashed One

If I were asked this question many years ago, the answer would be yes, and my motive would be in order to justify actions to get back at the person for what was done to me.

For example, back in the seventh grade, someone who was supposed to be my best friend was telling other people stuff I said in confidence. It wasn't derogatory statements about other people but events that were going on in my personal life. Things that were causing me pain. When I confronted her about it, she not only did not apologize for doing it, she called me the "n" word.

Now, I'm not one who usually fights. I felt myself get angry, and when I am, it's best for me to walk away. But then, she got bold enough to put her hands on me, and then, all bets were off.

I felt no apology for what I did to her. I didn't even feel bad for her having to transfer to another school after everything happened. I mean, you don't betray someone's trust and insult their ethnicity and let that ride. It just wasn't in me to do so.

Going back even further was an incident I had in the sixth grade with one of my cousins. It felt as if she and I were in competition with each other, even though I had no interest in the things she wanted to compete about. What occurred in the sixth grade was the culmination of the toxic interactions we'd had with each other, dating back to the third grade.

In the third grade, there was this guy who liked me, and we had a relationship. She wanted to be in a relationship too but decided it had to be with the guy I was with. I found out about it and broke up with him. Once he tried to remain with her, she dumped him. So, she was doing that just to get at me.

In the sixth grade, there was this guy who became friends with me. Usually, I'd be that person sitting by myself on the bus. I'd gotten used to that since back in those times, I was rather awkward looking and got picked on a lot. This guy was one of the few people who didn't see the extra weight, the ugly eyeglasses, and the braces. He treated me like a person, and we even had some things in common.

We were just friends, but my cousin started rumors that this guy and I were a couple. What bothered me was that it wasn't true, not because I was black and he was white. Despite the other kids staring, the guy didn't stop sitting with me on the bus. He didn't stop calling me or interacting with me, even when others (kids and adults) starting giving him a hard time.

I hoped that if she and I talked, then the rumors would stop since she had started them in the first place. Instead, she resorted to doing the same antics the bullies did. Her last act was knocking my eyeglasses off of my face, which stirred up my fury. We fought soon after.

Although she apologized, I didn't accept her apology. I held on to the hurt and anger throughout the remainder of my school years, and it wasn't until well into adulthood that I was open to interacting with her again.

But, like I said, that was back then.

Now, I realize that holding grudges does not really serve a benefit. It's a waste of energy that could be transformed into something positive.

Yes, one can use the failures, betrayals, and disappointments to teach one what not to do and what to look for, but when the lessons turn into fuel for vengeance (which is what a grudge is), then it becomes unhealthy on a spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical scale. Holding a grudge gives another person power over one's actions, and when I came to realize that, I made moves differently.

Any grudge I had against anybody I released when I received that breakthrough. However, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't tailor my interactions accordingly. I don't view a clean slate as the wiping away of egregious actions but the opportunity to establish something new. That something new doesn't always translate into a person still having a role in my life or that person holding the same place as he or she did before. Whether that individual feels a certain way about that I cannot control. I can only control my emotions and actions.

That's all I have. Now I hand the floor over to Mini Truth.

Mini Truth

Before writing my thoughts, the first thing that occurred to me was that the grudge I'd been holding on to the longest, I'd recently let go in a very spirit-filled moment of spiritual reconstruction and growth.

It was the grudge I held against my ex-husband and all the things therein. I won't get into the meat of that, as that, in some terms, is old news. Most of the people that know something about my story, know about that part of my testimony.

What a lot of people don't know is the pain and trauma I recently endured at the hands of abusive employers.

Honestly, the fact that employers could also be abusive was something that never really occurred to me throughout my life. Therefore, looking at employment as one would a personal relationship was that last thing I thought of.

Now, in retrospect, I see that they go hand-in-hand. Unfortunately, at this time I was ignorant to these details. I paid the price severely—in the form of deep-seated trauma.

It all started about five years ago.

Having recently moved to New Jersey to live with my sister and her husband, and having freshly weathered some truly trying circumstances with my sister, in the attempts to rebuild the fabric of our family unit I needed to find a job. Stat.

I won't go into those details either. I'll just stay with the pertinent facts.

So, I started job seeking; went through a few different interviews. Finally, I came across an organization in the Special Needs field that was looking for an Administrator. The Special Needs field is something that is near and dear to my heart so I went for it.

In to time at all, I'd scored the job. I was more excited than I could say. Not only would I be able to do my job financially within my family unit, but I'd also be working in a field that meant the world to me. It seemed like a win-win. I had struck gold.

Or so I thought.

Long story short, this place put me through hell thrice-over, and back. When I say that I went through sooooo much shit at this place, I really mean that. No exaggerations whatsoever. I damn near gave everything I had (and then some) for this job, but they continuously treated me like a dried up, nasty shit stain on marble floors. I even endured seeing my own son and other special needs kids get abused at the hands of some of the employees in this place. Something I reported and stressed to the higher-ups repeatedly. Nothing was done.

Finally, after going through the worst of the worst, I was let go under the pretense that the company was going under. Only to later find out that they had started some sort of rumor and sandal about me and accused me of doing things I had never done. Never, not once. 

That broke me to damn near the point of oblivion. Had it not been for the support of my sister, I think I would have ended up in a mental institution. And I don't say that lightly. Only she can attest to how much this marred me. I mean, it was bad.

The end of that employment position paved the way to three more employers that were no better. This too is no exaggeration. You can't make this shit up. My sister, who was there the whole time, can testify to the entire story.

FOUR VERY abusive employers. It changed me entirely as it pertained to getting a job and the understanding I had of it. Like, in an abject and extreme way.

Suffice it to say, I hold a grudge. A really, really big one.

This same grudge is made worse by the fact that I also have PTSD; something I got year ago due to the other abuses I'd faced in life.

Nowadays, I find myself at the most random of times having nightmares about this place. In the nightmares I relive the torture but always retaliate with immense hate. I find myself attacking my attackers, doing them massive damage. Then I wake up startled, flummoxed and agitated.

I also, at the most inopportune moments, find myself reliving the things I went through here and at the other three locations. My mind will wander and I am suddenly distressingly disturbed. I can be driving, the car is silent, the roads are open and lovely ... then unexpectedly, I am back there. At those places, with those people, going through it all over again.

It's a horrific way to live.

Here is the problem ... I don't know how to let it go. I have no clue what I can do or how I can get past this chronic anger.

I am open to suggestions.

Well children, that's all I have for you today. Be sure to drop some suggestions or comments down below if you so desire.

See you next week for the 5th entry!

Shadow Work Sunday: Entry 1

  

So my best friend and business partner, Queen of Spades (AKA, The Unleashed One), invited me to be a part of something called "Shadow Work".

For those of you who don't know what Shadow Work is, it s a spiritual venture to explore self-healing and spiritual wholeness. During the Shadow Work experiment, Queen and I will be addressing one question per week that dives deep into our soul outlook on various topics.

This speaks loudly to my heart because at my core I am a very spiritual person. As some of you may also know, I am a psychic. However, throughout my life I have faced some adversities that have made it very difficult to reach my spiritual matrix and apex. Something moved me to want to participate in this Shadow Work venture so as to mend that break and hopefully obtain what I so desperately yearn for.

With that said, let's dive right in. Here is this week's question ...

What cliché makes your stomach turn and why? Is it the inaccuracy or the accuracy that bothers you?

The Unleashed One

The way I'm going to start this will make you think of Miss Sophia from The Color Purple, but the sentiment is how I've felt throughout my life.

All my life I've had to fight.

I have had to fight against a narrative crafted by others due to my origins. You see, my mother was extremely young when she got pregnant with me. This played into the cliche of "Girls from teenage mothers become teenage mothers themselves".

On top of that, my mother did not graduate from high school, also producing another belief, "Children who are products of high school dropouts end up not finishing school."

At a very young age, my mother moved away, leaving her parents to raise me and concerns about "how well adjusted I would be, due to lack of mother and father".

It made me feel as if it was me against the world the moment I came out of the womb. I already felt aged. There wasn't that carefree ambiance of my spirit because I felt the pressure ... the residual left behind from the pain of the past. Restraint was placed on my actions to prevent a repetition of history. A history that caused my grandparents a great amount of pain that my mother probably did not factor with her decisions.

Girls from teenage mothers become teenage mothers themselves.

This statement is a bit of a double-edged sword. There is accuracy in the statement, particularly for people of color. It is hurtful because although there's more birth control available, there's still those who don't use it or who aren't using it properly.

The percentage is greater in the South (where I'm from), particularly those areas who constantly preach abstinence, leaving teens to sneak around and have sex instead of being able to have an open dialog with their parents about the subject. I believe that abstinence is something to strive for, even waiting until marriage, but for many, it is unrealistic, simply because of peer pressure and overall curiosity. Therefore, it's better to get one prepared, in the event that it does happen.

For me, my mother getting pregnant so young was a teachable moment. It was a teachable moment on what not to do. Maybe it was the empathic connection I had with my grandparents and my surroundings that drove that point home. Hyperfocus was placed on education and extracurricular activities. I was busy fighting a narrative, a narrative I refused to let the neighborhood or society place on me.

Children who are products of high school dropouts end up not finishing school.

Pregnancy is one of the main factors why a teenage mom drops out of school. However, the automatic assumption that the child will also be a high school dropout upsets me. Not only did I finish high school with honors, but I also continued on to college, making me a 1st generation college student. I even graduated from college.

I don't think a person should be counted out based on poor beginnings. Not every person is suppressed by the environment. Some are able to thrive and make the best of things. 

Children who aren't part of a two-parent household (mother and father) aren't as well adjusted as those who do.

It's the inaccuracy of this one which makes me shake my head. 

This standard bothers me because it places too much focus on presence rather than participation. Let me see if I can elaborate.

Just because a mother and father are in the home together, it doesn't mean it is a happy home. Mom and Dad could constantly be fighting. There may be a situation where one or both parents have to constantly work, barely having time for their children. Is it really better for Mom and Dad to stay together, to keep up appearances because a two-parent household is more beneficial than the alternative?

To be honest, it's a toxic narrative. Children pick up the message to endure, even if they are miserable. It teaches them that their happiness isn't as important in their relationships as "the look" ... the look that everything is copacetic.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that single parenting isn't rough. In fact, it's highly difficult. But it is better for children to see a parent that is happy by one's self than in a relationship but is miserable.

I did miss out on having talks with my mother about boys, although I was more invested in books than boys (and still am 😆). 

I didn't have any formal guidance on what to look for in a good man, besides the example my grandfather set. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, I turned out as well, despite the circumstances delivered my way.

Would I have been more adjusted if my mother hadn't left and my father decided to be a part of my life? In my opinion, both of them were too immature. They were children themselves still learning to be adults, and it's tough to do your own growth when you have a baby who depends on you.

Mini Truth

Latina equals sexy, feisty, low-class, sexual phoenixs with a High-class and Napoleon complex.

(AKA: The way we are seen by the opposite sex or potential romantic interests.)

What bothers me the most about this cliche/stereotype is both the accuracy perpetuated by other Latinas and the inaccuracy as it pertains to my person and soul-makeup.

This derision runs deep and I don’t know if I can even put into words how much this really bothers me. When I say ‘it runs deep’ I mean that with every fiber of my being—there are so many layers to the disdain.

Perhaps to better explain I would have to start at the beginning. 

Once upon a time, it all started with Hollywood and the Hood …

As far back as I can remember, the media has depicted the Latina type as some sort of whimsical and supernaturally-passionate, sensual and sexual female. We’ve been portrayed as the iconic Mexican woman with the baroque crop-top and bohemian skirt, with a flower in her long, streaming ebony hair.

This female has an accent “to die for”, and a body that will make the gods melt. She has a small waist, perfect 34C breasts, a plump and round bottom, and strong tanned legs.

She is fierce and vulnerable all at once. She can wield a gun like a man but cook a feast like any professional chef. In bed, she is a nymph that moves like a deity and turns man into mush.

She’s envisioned as this larger than life goddess with the voice of a siren and the looks of an angel.

Yet, on the very same token, due to the irrevocable and damaging effects of poverty she lives and is bred by the Hood. Therefore, she succumbs to the influences therein. This makes her hard; a shell that can’t be broken. She is uneducated and unintelligent. She is extremely low-class and has no etiquette but is deluded into thinking that she is a rockstar. She has several children from different men and lives off of welfare. She holds a low-income job, lives in the projects and spends money beyond her means. Though she is a family-oriented woman, her family is the streets. Because her family is the streets, she has an alcohol problem, a drug problem, runs with danger and lives in fear masqueraded as strength.

Furthermore, she is most certainly not a “gringa” but don’t you dare call her “black or colored” because this offends her.

She is Rozie Perez, Sofia Vergara, Jennifer Lopez and Penelope Cruz all rolled into one.

The issue with this is that “SHE” is not real. Especially as it pertains to me.

My entire life I’ve seen this stereotype perpetuated by my family and Hispanic friends. It’s like they have lived their lives according to the mold preordained for them. Like … this is what they are supposed to be, so they submit to that rule. They identify as this matrix, they can’t see themselves as anything else.

This cliche makes me feel more alone that I can say.

It makes me feel like an outcast among my own “people”. Though I’ve always known that I was an alien to my family … an enigma that they cannot comprehend, and have accepted this, I still feel homeless. And yes, “homeless” is exactly the word I am looking for. I feel as though I belong nowhere and to no one. I feel like my home—my origins—is a farce.

What hurts the most?

I do feel as though some of these traits pertain to me. I am fierce, feisty and passionate. I do come from humble beginnings. I am strong and strong-willed. I am family-oriented.
But due to the fact that I see myself as a soul, I also feel as though I am much more than that. I am so much more.

I am talented.
I am intelligent.
I have wisdom.
I have love beyond measures to give.
I am ethereal.
I am eccentric.
I am down-to-earth and elevated all at once.
I am spiritual and scientific.
I am black, indigenous, and Spanish.

I am … sooooo much more.

But what I am not, is the cliche.

Thanks so much for stopping by. Stay tuned for the next Shadow Work Sunday.