Friday, November 23, 2012
We are all born with an inextinguishable light inside. Abuse is sacrilege against the blessedness of an innocent child. Sexually abused and raped from ages 3 to 10 by my father, I could not see myself as I truly was. I only saw myself through the distorted lens of his incestuous rape. When I met my husband and gave birth to our first son, my image of myself as I knew it transformed. A deep knowing stirred in me; this abomination I endured did not destroy my innate light, but blinded me to it. The birth of our second son profoundly deepened this understanding.
Giving birth dilated me in body and emotionally in heart. Through my baby I was opening my heart to myself too. When the nurse rolled him into my room and handed him to me, everything became silent, my vision narrowed and I could see only him. He was pink, with oceanic indigo eyes, rosebud lips, silken vanilla skin. My body caught fire. My eyes met his stare. I could not pull my gaze from him.
I wept, Every hair on my body stood up. Rushing with ecstasy, a feeling of wholeness and holiness immersed me. I did not put him down for 3 days, he nursed then slept in my arms. I awoke at 3am. the first night. I looked at him and saw a halo of light. A vibration emanated from him. In this moment it hit me, at 21 years old, this light in him existed simply because he existed. It was the intuitive light of birth, a birthlight we all possess. Suddenly, I looked into the mirror of him, and he reflected to me my inborn goodness, my birthright to my light. I thought, “I had this, I was just like him.” I felt a whooshing in my belly, an echo of remembrance that I too was once a tiny girl baby with an intrinsic light that no man could kill. That no abandoning mother could kill. I, in those revelatory morning moments, had an epiphany, I only thought I had lost this light. My body became melodic, like a child‘s. I remembered the song of my birthlight.
Sexual trauma creates a tremendous fear of my children ever feeling anything like I felt. If my own parents abandoned, raped, and denied me and my basic right to exist, I must be damaged, right?
Wrong. I have persecuted myself as a mother, thinking any mistake meant my kids would be traumatized. I am hyperaware, even paranoid regarding my children’s safety. I am completely bewildered how anyone, especially a mother or father, could sexualize their child. I don’t understand it. I never felt the need to idealize either of my parents. This is a blessing. It has saved me much pain and anguish, as many who do traverse that path end up unable to feel the righteous anger, the mental and emotional separation, the boundaries that come down. It is, in short, empowering to look at abusers as they are. But it is also painful, because we are born loving our parents. To have to see the reality of what they are is painful to say the least. However, becoming a mother showed me that my birthlight was always within me. I am capable of keeping my children safe. The tapestry of their lives is totally different than mine was. I now see my light, and vow to protect theirs eternally. That is the unexpected gift of my trauma. Namaste.