healing backwards

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile, ever since my mom died, and I found myself in this strange place of being both motherless and childless, this idea of healing backwards.

One of the many things that arose out of that grief was the contemplation of inheritance. Not material inheritance, though there is that.

But I’m speaking of emotional inheritance, spiritual inheritance, all the gifts + qualities + baggage + patterns that have been passed down to us.

In grief, to me, there seemed a greater clarity. The truth of those inheritances. Generational patterns. Clumsy, messy, imperfect, human love.

And I’ve been, even before my mom died, on a path of healing.

At the time, I was healing just for me. Healing my own addictions. Healing my own religious + spiritual wounds. Healing my own patterns of overwork.

And so much of this is not just my struggle. It is the struggle of my family line.

And I think when this happens, when we heal some of those family wounds, if we have children, we look to those children as beautiful containers for this new way of being.

But when we have no children (and I am childless by choice), where does that healing go?

Where do we put it, if not our children?

If you’re me, you put it on Instagram. And I say that lightly, but truly, it feels so affirming to me to share here and know that so many of us are walking side by side.

And we heal our lineage backwards.

When we heal, our ancestors heal.

I don’t pretend to understand the mechanics of how that works, but it feels like such deep truth in my bones and in my being.

And there have been times when I’ve felt uncomfortable + self conscious thinking about my ancestors. What would those practical midwestern farmers think of this hippie yoga lady selling magic beads at the farmers market? I mean, really.

And yet, I have to believe, that when they see me thriving (even if I’m doing weird shit), when they see me happy + content, when they see me free, their hearts soar.

That when they see my leisure, they don’t begrudge me this, they rejoice.

My joy is their joy.
My healing is their healing.
My freedom is their freedom.