More Healing - Taking Flummoxetine for relief of my continuing bewilderment

I have read that springs of fresh water pool up in the saltiness of the ocean. I have seen the most beautiful of wildflowers living in some of the harshest mountain environments. I am told that the most magnificent psalms came from the most profound agonies of the soul.

As deep calls to deep (Ps 42:7) the Lord continues to call to my heart. And at times He calls forth the tears I have denied myself for so much of my life. Taught that, "Men don't cry," I have finally learned that vulnerability and intimacy were just not taught where I grew up. It wasn't that I missed the lesson after all.

Now what? What do I do with this understanding? This is an interesting paradox. I have been working toward forgiveness of my family of origin, and planning to present myself to them as part of my ninth step in recovery. The question I ask myself is now, "How do I forgive them for something they could not do?" It is not their fault they are the way they are.. Whether by nurture or nature they lacked the skills necessary to raise emotionally healthy children.

It is now about radical forgiveness, for I must include myself on the list. My parents may have had some bad parenting skills, but they tried their best. A particularly aggressive therapist at one time tried to challenge some of the respect I clung to for my parents, telling me repeatedly that it was ok to say they were lousy parents, that their best efforts sucked.

I never believed that. The "discipline" my father meted out with belt and board came from a man who had his own problems, battled his own demons. My mother's inability to embrace with affection, to hold and nurture her children - until my brother Tony's arrival - was a learned response for her. I believe she loved us as deeply as she was able.

In coming to a place of love and forgiveness I am still reluctant to allow room for vulnerability. But I do so love my parents and forgive them both.