“Your mother gives you your identity as a woman” (Iyanla Vanzant) hmm-mm I don’t know…Is this really true? I will be able to agree or disagree at the end of my release. I have been rather hesitant to write this post, and the others that will follow, I agonized over the wording, what should I reveal and what to hold back until further notice. What will be considered offensive, how will this be perceived? Will my actions be understood? The reason this particular post proves challenging is because it’s solely about my first relationship, my first role model, my first love, my first heart-break, my first betrayal; this post is about my Mother! I LOVE my mother yet for years I battled with various emotions, how could this woman who I adore cause me so much pain! I RESENTED this woman, in equal terms, with mixed emotions, one part loving the other part resenting! But I knew underneath it all… unconditional love was always looming.

I watched and listened over the past few weeks her responses to my choices, her attitude fluctuating as she’s not sure what, and how to feel, when or how to speak, or how to act or at times verbally approach this situation of me publicly speaking about the sexual abuse I experienced as a child. I watched her as she rode her waves of emotions, not knowing at times if she wanted to support or condemn me. I listened and observed as she tried to accept and find her footing when she realized there was no stopping me.  My mother as usual laid wait, waiting for others to react, to know how to feel it seems.  The support from her didn’t come until she saw the support of others rolling my way. It seems she found the courage to follow suit though apprehensive.

Little did my dearest mother know, this, my speaking out, my taking action was happening with or without her approval, because I was tired and I was about to blow.  I have tried for many years to be respectful of her, holding in my true feelings toward her, taking into account she has been through so much, and I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she had already been hurt. Throughout this time I have been annoyed and irritated with her child like cowardly behavior over the years, and I have held her responsible first and foremost for the deepest parts of my hurt and the pain that I carry. I never felt protected, I never felt important, I never felt like a priority, she made me feel like an obligation she had to fulfill, the deepest and hardest part of my test, and the times I needed her to stand with me and weather this storm she bailed, she succumbed, she reverted, she acted like a weak and puny, coward child, giving in to everyone’s demands but mine, standing and siding with everyone but me…

Not having my mother’s support over the years killed me over and over inside, with each dismissal of my pain I was made to relive, to retell, to revisit old hurt, I felt trapped, I felt suffocated, and the more she and others asked me to suppress the torture I had to endure, the more I started to resemble my weak and feeble mom…I knew it was happening and I hated the thought of becoming the spineless coward people pleasing person that my mother was or had become. Little did I know…The story was yet to unfold!

I knew that once I started making the abuse public, it would be hard for her as it is ridiculously hard for me, however it’s all a part of my healing and I must heal completely not just a fraction. I must come to terms, accept and release it all en root to my end result, my ultimate goal of healing and forgiveness.

My relationship with my mother has been one filled with many highs and lows, smooth sailing and turbulent, our relationship mimic that of many mothers and daughters, our disagreements and butting heads were many, as with ever parent and child we had our occasional blow up and blow outs. We fought but our fights though at times tense our fights were considered mild-mannered compared to some of my peers. My mother and I somehow managed to remain respectful and dignified… I believe like her I fought hard but with caution, trying to refrain from saying what we truly felt and what probably needed to be said. Throughout the years though it was extremely hard at times for me because even though I loved and respected my mother so much our relationship was strained. I thought and still do think the world of my mom, for the most part “but” there was that side, the side where my love never wavered but my respect did. I had my moments of being extremely happy that she was and is my mom, yet at times I found myself torn between love and deep-seated resentment!

“I am not my mother!” The first time I uttered those words I was seventeen years old, and after a major fight with one of my aunts I recall her (my aunt) explaining her dismay, total surprise/disbelief that I reacted, (fighting back after she punched me in the head) according to her  because I fought back, I had no manners or respect. She stated that had my mom, her elder sister hit her she would not have fought or hit back…I was livid, I had done nothing wrong to warrant the abuse, so while she tried to accept the reality I had had enough of her and fought back, and she was ever so correct I had NO respect for her NONE but… (Another post).  I was steaming over the fact she compared me to my mom! That was my first time saying it out loud “I am not my mother!” but had not been the last time, in fact it resonated over the years… I refused to be my mother, I am not my mother and will never be my mother I would tell myself and repeat these five little words time and time again. I thought my belief,  I thought my refusal to pattern my mom’s ways were as a result of her demonstration of self throughout her relationship with my dad and while this held true, it was not my only reason.

Imagine my surprise when in my adult years I finally realized that the way I felt about my mom was a combination of things. I knew I didn’t want to be her because she didn’t protect me as a child, in addition to how she reacted to my dad’s ill-treatment. I resented my mother, and I resented her deeply. It’s something I have battled for years, and yes, while I had my moments I realized I loved this woman tremendously but for the most part I didn’t like her! I did not like my mother! How and why you wonder? Well at five years old the first time my grandmother’s husband stuck his slimy nasty disgusting tongue down my throat and fondled me to the point he ejaculated from the pleasure he received. The moment I returned to safety the first person I told was my mom. What happened next was not expected even my five-year old brain knew something was off…My mother, yes my ‘mom’ proceeded to pull my underwear down, check me to see if he had penetrated, pull my undies back up and uttered the words “do not tell your father, do not tell anyone!” I was too young then to comprehend the profound impact and the magnitude and/or toll that this decision would have on my life in the years that followed. I had my first experience of extreme betrayal then, from the person I loved and idolized the most. My first lesson was that this man, her mother and others were more important than I was. The five-year old me needed my mommy to show up and out for me. This was the beginning of a steady decline in our relationship as I would come to realize my mom placed the feelings of others first, her feelings as well as my own we were second in command. The saga continues…

Releasing old hurts, relinquishing resentments, dismissing old beliefs, surrendering to healing and  journeying to free… Join me as I/we Journey2Free


From my heart to yours




Evolutions Beauty…Recalibrating my Life

I stopped praying some time ago. I found myself praying the same repetitive prayers over and over again, and nothing ever happen, nothing changed. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’ve heard so many times just pray, take it to God and he will take care of it! While that may be true for some issues, it surely doesn’t apply to all. I prayed and I felt for so long God wasn’t listening. I cried, I begged and I pleaded with God but then at some point I realized I’m lamenting to a God that already knew all my gripes, he knew of my sorrows, my ailments, my hurts, the pains, he knew it all.

My heart was heavy, I was bound, and no matter how I tried to suppress and repress the emotions, they kept creeping back like a bad case of herpes, I couldn’t escape it, it just would not go away! As the years slipped by and my siblings needed me less. I ran away every chance I got. I frequently visited Jamaica, went to Australia, England for months, yet everywhere I went I would be overcome with sadness when alone with my thoughts, it seemed as if my thoughts were regurgitated, brought back to the surface and in full swing when isolated. In recent years though warned about the effects of not putting Jhayd on a proper sleep schedule, I refused, not wanting to put my baby on a schedule, because that meant time alone, time to do what with? I didn’t want to hear it! I focused on everything yet nothing. I was dying inside, not speaking and if I did, it was to people who didn’t wish to understand, folks that seemingly empathize but! This was complex, this is heavy, and you’re not feeling me! My heart, my mind, my thoughts crowded, I’m going to spontaneously combust! Night after night I would curl up with a pillow and cry, I would scream into the pillow muffling the sounds, I would invite God in, but it often felt like it was just me and my pillow, God was everywhere but with me.

I would journal when angered, I wrote poetry in hopes of relieving myself of pent-up frustration, I would shop, shop for things I didn’t want or even need, I would do stupid mundane things, things to rid myself of the thoughts and emotions, yet no matter how or what I did, regardless  of where I went local, international, interstate, my release was short-lived, it was all  just temporary, the acts or actions would simply fill a void, a longing, a “neediness” I had to make myself feel more important. A false sense of hope, of worthiness! I want it, need it, I craved it! But I didn’t know what it was that I needed. My thoughts were so loud it sounded as if I was standing on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange but the only person hearing the commotions was me! I contemplated drowning my sorrows in alcohol and or with the very drugs (opiates) I am prescribed for the pre-existing condition I have. But, it seemed as if God was playing one sick and cruel joke on me, why? Well I couldn’t consume alcohol, I can’t even say I drink in moderation for if I had more than a few sips it would trigger a Sickle Crises,  my joints would hurt so damn bad and the opiates I’m given makes me so sick I would constantly hurl, I would hurl just thinking about hurling, my damn stomach is so weak that I can’t even keep my medications down, so as a result there was no form of escape but to keep busy, I had to keep moving!

I only recently realized, He (God) had been there all along, He had never left my side and has never wavered. I realized in order for God to intervene I had to first step up to the plate! I had to do my part, take the initiative to move, act, do and/or say only then would he instruct, guide, direct, protect and bless me along the way. It’s not that he didn’t hear me or see what I was going through, I wasn’t’ proactive. I was stuck in a state of bewilderment, feeling sorry for myself and using fear, and excuses, the excuses of not knowing how to and the fact that it was much safer for me to be that bruised, feeble-minded girl, I could safely hide behind my pain and lick my wounds. I had been through enough and I’m entitled to sit around feeling broken, wallowing in self-pity. But no, that was not His plan for my life! I needed to be awakened, I needed to wake up and take stock of my life. I needed to be transformed in my mind and my thinking.

Did I realize this late? I don’t think so! Nothing happens before its time, you can’t be awaken if you weren’t asleep! I had to be sick and tired of being sick and tired of being sick and tired. I had to get to a place of reckoning, for even though I wasn’t feeling like killing myself anymore…lol (another post) I wasn’t living I was merely existing, my version of a walking dead. I wasn’t going to off myself because of my belief that it would be insulting to God, and I was stronger than that. Who am I kidding? Whilst I do believe that as well I couldn’t off myself for the mere fact that I refused to give some folks the satisfaction of viewing me weak!  I had to get to a place where things and people didn’t bother me as much, and I do say as much because I’m nowhere close to where I need to be, but I’m getting there. I’m shaking one negative comment at a time, loving and appreciating one hater and naysayer daily and willing myself to get to that place where the negative thinking, speech or energy of another will not affect me.

I had to get to the place where I saw myself as worthy, as important, and believe what I had experienced, lived through and endured was just not for shits and giggles. I know I have to believe and I do, God did not bring me through all of his so I would constantly whine to him about my pains, my struggles, my discomforts and gripes!  He knows it all. He brought me/you to and through it for reasons or the sake of helping, learning and for your personal growth. As Maya Angelou says “when you get, you give, when you learn, you teach” and “when you know better you do better” So the next time you feel like annoying…I mean reminding God of the issues your facing daily (that which he already knows) stop! Instead ask for the wisdom to know, the courage to take action, the bravery to act upon, after all faith without work is what…?  Do not retreat! Go out and do you! My faith had been tested, tried and shaken.

Regardless of how I was told not to have a child… I wanted my own little person, my act was a bit selfish but I wanted a child so badly to make myself feel whole. I wanted to relieve myself of resentments and old hurts. I received the most beautiful blessing, (my son) the blessing I desperately wanted and desired but, instead of just love, I received a jolt! An awakening of sorts, I had to deal with my issues, I had to confront,  process and accept my reality, realizing forgiveness as the ultimate aim. I must forgive myself and others. I couldn’t self-medicate, I didn’t want to further suppress, I wanted to feel and realize what, why and how I can/could change. I yearned for my true self, for my son and I. I wanted truth in the simplest, purest and truest form. I needed to travel, to take this journey and discover me. I realize that Gods intent was for me to find myself. I couldn’t drink it away and I couldn’t numb it. I knew there was and is something in me…well, something has been pushing me, and it just wouldn’t let me be. Wake up Larissa! I’m not my story, I’m not my conditioning, I’m not my past, I’m not my thoughts! Pretending my issues are not there, that they don’t exist, doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t magically disappear with strong will  or the batting of the eyes. Hurts all have to be processed and dealt with. I made a conscious decision to break away, break free, I don’t want those things on me, and I refuse to pass brokenness or the lessons of covering up an injustice because you’re directly linked by lineage onto my child. I have to take action, stand in my truth and let it manifest.

I began praying again… this time I pray different prayers. I’m putting in my work for the betterment of self and others “now do you”! I don’t want my fears to be amplified but instead relinquished. I will not allow anyone to have me question my vision, my purpose, and my dreams. I will do as I’m led to, go where I’m directed, and be the me I was meant to be. I will speak/write of that which I know, live, feel and have experienced, I will deliver always what’s been placed on my heart. My only hope is that I inspire you to do the same. Join me as I/we journey to free.

From my heart to yours