Author
Unknown
"Wisdom
#1": Your childhood story. Let it go.
We
all have a child within us… the one with dreams, hopes and imagination. And we
often carry unresolved stories like buried traumas, feeling unloved, betrayals,
feeling rejected, broken hearts and wounded spirits, from our childhood into
adulthood. These stories often drive our adulthood behaviour one way or
another. As children, we are confused and can't tell our stories straight. As
adults, we are mature and can clearly hear what the child within us is trying
to say. At some point in our life we should re-experience, re-understand and
repair our stories. This experience is awkward and surprising, but it's also
very rewarding. We can't keep sending the child deep down in our unconscious
mind. We should let the child go and be free. And we should let the stories go
too. We can’t bottle up our emotions. We should unburden them.
My
main story is growing up with an alcoholic father (unfortunately, not a soft
and humorous one) and then having a fatherless childhood. Although I have never
experienced a strong emotional impact of my dad’s alcoholism, sometimes I
wonder if I would be a different person, if he didn't drink.
When
my parents divorced, I felt such a relief - no more chaos at home. My dad had
died when I was 32 (we met 3-4 times after the divorce). I never even thought
about being fatherless till my 40s. My dad failed as a father, but he loved me
unconditionally and tenderly. By tenderly I mean... Dad was usually sober in
the mornings. On school days he would let me sleep till he prepared my school uniform,
polished my shoes (people who lived in USSR or currently live in post-Soviet
countries know that you need to polish your shoes daily there) and made me hot
breakfast. Then he would gently wake me up at the very last minute, feed me
breakfast and help me put on my shoes. Each time I would tell him to wake me up
earlier next morning, but he never listened to me. He had tenderness for what I
was and respect for what I was to become. My memories of him fade more and more
every year, but I know that he will always be an inseparable part of my life.
My
dad’s alcoholism and my fatherless childhood taught me to laugh and cry in the
same sentence (children of alcoholics are also quick thinkers and have a great
imagination). It taught me to accept loss and adore myself in all my
imperfections, dignities and sins (did I tell you that I was born with a PhD in
self-love?). It taught me not to yearn a childhood that I was never able to
have and to put it in the closet (you never know when you may need your cool childhood
you never had). It also taught me that there is no loneliness and that love is
all around me (you basically can’t avoid it). The lessons were glorious,
especially the one about love.
Love
can be lost. Love can be found. Love lost and love found are romantically
described in one of the never sent letters of Lenny Belardo (the Pope Pius XIII
from “The Young Pope”) to a California girl he met before joining the
priesthood. Lenny’s admiration and love touched me deeply. Enjoy the
masterpiece of love below and the divine voice of Jude Law.
“What
is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found? Don't laugh at me, my
love. I know it, I'm awkward and naive when it comes to love, and I ask
questions straight out of a pop song. This doubt overwhelms me and undermines
me, my love. To find... or to lose? All
around me, people don't stop yearning. Did they lose or did they find? I can't
say. An orphan has no way of knowing. An orphan lacks a first love. The love for
his mama and papa. That's the source of his awkwardness, his naiveté. You said
to me, on that deserted beach in California, "you can touch my legs."
But I didn't do it. There, my love, is love lost. That's why I've never stopped
wondering, since that day: where have you been? Where you are now? And you,
shining gleam of my misspent youth, did you lose or did you find? I don't know.
And I will never know. I can't even remember your name, my love. And I don't
have the answer. But this is how I like to imagine it, the answer. In the end,
my love, we have no choice. We have to find.”
What
is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found?
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