Slowing down, taking time for yourself and establishing new habits that will last a lifetime.
Theme – Re-Membering
The focus was to gather and mend our scattered parts by focusing on a dedicated space.
How does having a focal point help you to let go and feel more connected and spacious?
I’m not convinced that it is working for me as yet, but then maybe I just need to practice and give it more time. The main issue in my life that even now still clouds some aspects of almost every day is the hurt my mother deliberately inflicted on me both physically and psychologically.
An Alter to Letting Go
Locate a small table, or a shelf, in a quiet area of your home where you can imagine spending a minute or two every day. Once you've established your sacred spot, gather meaningful objects that symbolize a thing, person, habit, belief, painful memory, or outcome that you wish to release in your life.
What I want to let-go of is the anger I have for my mother.
This does not in any way mean that I wish to forgive her.
My mother was a difficult person at the best of times, very self-centred and although she would be willing to help others she would only ever do it if there was something she could gain from it. That said there was a lot of people that held her, or the image of her that she wanted them to see in high regard but that was the issue, she was astute enough to manipulate everyone. If something didn’t suit her she would simply eradicate it from her life (like me) or re-invent the image so that things were portrayed in a way that best fitted with what she wanted. She was opinionated and, naturally always right as far as she was concerned, with a sharp tongue that could cut to the quick often delivered in a back-handed fashion or sugar coated.
She had never wanted children and tried in several shocking ways to eradicate me a fact that once I was here she made sure I was always very aware of and that I was never anything but an inconvenience to her. Thankfully my dad and my extended family adored me and so my childhood was privileged and very happy.
As I was singly responsible for ruining her career, her lifestyle and her whole life, she decided to map out my future to make her dreams come true, but once it was clear that I was not prepared to follow that plan she totally rejected me. In my whole life I never did anything right as far as she was concerned and once my dad died she had very little to do with me at all.
When she was terminally ill with cancer someone from her church informed me, even though it was against her wishes and I subsequently found out about the web of lies and deceptions my mother had weaved around her friends regarding my absence from her life.
Apparently, I was the wayward child that had no respect for her, never contacted her, never visited, never sent cards on her birthday and abandoned her every year to spend Christmas alone. When she moved after the death of my dad she had started again with a new life and friends that had never known me or my dad and she had created for herself the image of the lonely old women who had lost the husband she loved and with an only daughter that had discarded her. I lived miles away, so she knew there was no chance of this façade ever being discovered because, when she allowed me to visit it was totally pre-arranged to the finest detail to ensure I never met anyone, so as not to risk the fabrications being uncovered.
My mother was a master manipulator, all the letters I wrote would be read to her by a neighbour because she was blind, and one that didn’t go to church so therefore would never mix with her other friends and shatter those carefully constructed mirages. She would then save everything from me in a locked draw so there would be no risk of them being discovered.
When I got married for the second time I arranged for her and a friend to be collected at home and driven to and from the venues and booked rooms for them to stay overnight in the hotel with us, but a few days before the event she informed me in a curt phone call that she was not going to be there. I discovered the invitations, forms and all the things I had sent her regarding the wedding to try and get her to be involved were locked away in that draw, but she had told everyone that she had not been invited. Likewise, although my graduation photo was hung on her wall, the bed of lies she told everyone was that I had refused to let her be part of my celebrations and she had managed to get a copy of the photo from the university, while her attitude to me when I called to ask her to come was, that as I had not bothered to work hard enough to get a first there was nothing worth celebrating.
There is so much more that I could right but that is enough to give a little flavour of why I have these feelings towards her. Even with her dying breath she used her sharp tongue as a rapier to reduce me to that inhibited little child that was such a disappointment to her.
WORDS ( by … Lee Montgomery-Hughes)
Sticks and stone can break your bones
but words can never hurt you
But with ordinary words
Spoken in a certain way with certain inflections
And ... the insecurities flood straight back
Emotions escape that locked compartment
as vividly as if it were yesterday
Instant transportation to the vulnerability of youth
That frightened child, thought to have been banished
to within the safety of the subconscious mind
Humiliation, not always public
inner judgement is enough
Instantaneous shame
The dread of what’s to come
Clammy hands, nausea, thumping chest, breathe catching
Unable to do anything, unable to think
Your tongue holds no words in defence
There is just no hope of ever getting anything right
Never a need for physical punishment ...
spoken retribution is always enough
Cutting up and spitting out any shred of self-confidence
Shifting positions, highlighting ungratefulness
‘I am doing this for YOU’
‘I’m putting myself out to help YOU’
‘Not everything starts and ends with YOU’
That sinking cold reality of never being good enough
The infant desperate for love
The youngster desperate for approval
The teenager desperate for acceptance
The young adult desperate to get it right
The grown-up desperate to succeed
Then eventual understanding that words hurt deeper than any stone
And once hit by them ... they always will
Published 2016
Whispering Words Collection - Forward Poetry