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I am 56 years old. When I was 20, I moved to another state because I couldn't get along with my parents, particularly my mother and this didn't happen just in the teen years. It began much earlier than that and had been going on all through my life. My two brothers and my sister didn't have so much trouble getting along with her and I never knew what the problem was except that we were sooooooooo different as people. At least, that's what I decided. I had lots of emotional problems, too.
When I moved away, I went to live with my grandmother and continued university there. I eventually graduated. But when I arrived there, I began a journey into self-discovery that started with buying books and continued my whole life and I have looked at probably every single issue that I had and dealt with them as far as I could, making changes in the way I thought and lived so that I could be healthier.
I believe that when we die, we are escorted by angels and our loved ones to heaven. If we have loved in our lives and have no major transgressions to atone for (like murder or the such) we go through a period of reviewing our life and learn truths about how we lived and what we were supposed to learn about it. My parents are dead. My father died ten and a half years ago. My mother died one and a half years ago. I never got along with my parents ..... ever. But I know that since they have died, they know who I am and they know me now. And whatever was keeping us apart on earth is gone. There is only love now.
I believe that my dad has been with me on and off since he died. He taught me to build things when I was a kid. I have saws and tools and I love home improvement. He is with me when I remodel. He's kept me out of trouble before. I am not aware of my mother being around. Until recently. Two events occurred recently that were so clear, so unmistakable, that I knew, without a doubt, that both of my parents were here with me. My husband, who is a skeptic, also agreed they were here. I was puzzled at first as to why they were here. I didn't worry about it. I knew it would become clear to me soon.
Recently, because of learning more about my illness (Bipolar), I have learned that I clearly had it when I was a child. And I know that my mother physically beat me while trying to discipline me. I had blocked this out of my mind for a long time. But I began remembering things and the horror and the terror and the feeling of being hated. I remember the welts and the bruises. I remember feeling that I was a worthless mistake and I made my mother hate me. I felt dirty. I felt like an animal. The woman who was supposed to care for me was beating me and I didn't understand. Who would help me? No one could. What could I do?
Now I know where the poor self-esteem came from. My T and I are working toward releasing this. I am going to forgive my mother. It will be a process. First, forgiveness. Then, rebuild. I am very happy. The final piece of the puzzle is found.
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 Vickie
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