Blame it on the full moon. Blame it on my PMS rubbing off on them. But the men in my house have been on each other's nerves for the last 2 days!
A recent verbal war between father and teenage sons about the dishes (of which I didn't do a very good job of staying out of) brought me back to a childhood memory I always knew I had, I just didn't know it was lying dormant waiting for an opportunity to pounce.
My father was an active alcoholic until I was around 12 years old. And for the most part I ignored this fact until one Christmas he came home from the local bar totally hammered and obviously not up for any annoying behaviour. Well, if you consider eating a festive cookie annoying behaviour. Which apparently he did!
I might have been around 9 or 10 and I remember sitting in front of the television watching a Christmas special with my sister and foster brother. My father came in the room (I don't remember what he was saying, if anything at all), I remember him walking in front of the tv and all of a sudden getting really angry about the way we were chewing our cookies... He started to yell and make rude comments about the way we were eating our cookies and at one point offered to help shove one down one of our throats. I remember being understandably frightened of him at this point (like I said I made a great effort to ignore my father's alcoholism prior to this). It all happened really fast and most likely my mother ushered him off to bed (all the while giving him a piece of her mind).
The point is I had no idea that this memory (which I have always had total recollection of btw) still held any power over me. In fact, I didn't think it had power in the first place. It was just one small event amongst many. But after the boys were done shouting I instantly felt the emotion ball up in my throat. The lights on the Christmas tree, the sound and tone of their voices shouting, and Christmas music in the background made me feel like throwing up!
My body knew where I was, but in that moment it felt like my brain hit rewind and I was instantly transported back to that moment all those years ago and I bawled like a baby for over an hour.
It's a struggle for me to get in the Christmas spirit. I wonder if this is why? I also wonder if it is why my dad never liked Christmas either. Did he remember that moment and feel ashamed? Did he ever wish he could take that moment back?
There's so much within me that needs to be healed still. Obviously. And this episode made me realize that my body, mind and spirit will choose the way in which it best needs to do this. I don't believe I could have forced this to happen even if I tried. The Universe definitely knew what was necessary for me to connect all the dots and experience the healing that occurred.
So, what's the moral of the story?
I have no idea. Thanks for reading anyway!