The Return of Forgotten Pain

Sometimes, the past sneaks back in when we least expect it, reminding us that healing isn’t a straight path. This is about recognizing those moments, understanding them, and finding a way forward.

Moving back in with a parent while still healing from the childhood trauma they inflicted has got to be one of the greatest emotional challenges. Really, I want to say one of the greatest slaps in the face or that it feels like God is playing in my face. Making me face this…AGAIN. Face what I thought I had already worked through.

IS MY SATURN STILL IN ITS RETURN?!

Isn’t it funny how we think we got over something only to be triggered again in its presence, realizing there is more work to do?

I didn’t know how much more healing that needed to take place until I recently moved back “home” to stay with my dad after years of living alone. I say home in quotations because while I’m grateful I’m not homeless and that I have time to save money and work towards my next goal, home to me feels like it should be a safe space, physically, emotionally, and mentally.

I’ve come to realize I’ve never 100% trusted my dad. From his lack of follow through to the petty-cold-shoulder-I-don’t-want-you-here-so-I’m-going-to-be-passive-aggressive-type energy. My earliest memory goes like this:

*7 year old me primarily living with Mom*

Dad: “Hey sweetie, I’m coming to get you today. I’ll be there in 2 hours.”

Young Me: *excited, ecstatic, making plans for all the fun I’m going to have at my dad’s*

Dad: *no call, no show*

*rinse and repeat for the next 10 years*

So many years filled with the same disappointing occurrences that I’ve probably blocked out the memory.

And the times I did spend with him, it was only a matter of hours or days before I started to feel unwanted, in tears and ready to go home to my mom. And you may say, “Aww that’s probably not actually how he felt.” “He’s your dad, he loves you.” Well if that’s what love feels like, I desire and deserve a better version of it. It was his subtle and sometimes direct actions that my intuitive self always picked up on before they became apparent to those around me. It was an air of annoyance, a short fuse of anger and frustration that was directed towards me for the slightest reasons. Never did I see that energy towards my brother or my cousins who were often around at the same time.

Now we are back in the present day and that same 7 year old child in me is sensing that cold shoulder energy, making me want to go home to my mommy for safety. And he has no idea that I’m once again in the battlefield for the peace of mind and emotional safety you think parents automatically provide for their children.

What really hits is that the people who hurt me most will not (and may never) give me the apology, closure, or healing I need.

In my 31 years of living, I have come to the realization that I, alone, am enough. I have God and my spiritual army of guides, ancestors, and angels. That’s enough. I am ingrained with the gifts to show up for my present and younger self in strength, love, compassion, and gentleness.

I wanted to share this so I could get it off my chest (because all I wanted was to scream, primally and loudly, but with my dad in the next room, that wasn’t an option). The perspective I’ve come to while writing this is that we don’t have to stay trapped in grief that breeds anxiety, depression, and resentment. I allow myself to grieve and release the hurt from the fucked up parts of my childhood that are resurfacing as I ascend on this journey called life.