One Day Older and Wiser

Today I’m one day old.

It’s amazing how much learning one can experience in a day. Yesterday, I was just born…I came from a place with loud sounds and vibrations…I could hear my mother’s heart beat alongside with mine…her muffled voice is now a vague memory…breathing, communicating…I can’t remember how I did these but I did them.

Now, in this life I chose to join, sounds have a different beauty. I’ve learned to listen to these because in this life I’m now in, they have different meanings. These eyes have learned to see so much already. I also have learned to choose what I see. My heart was just a heart in my other life but now, is it part of how I feel? No–It isn’t…it is still just a heart. Today, I learned I can choose to believe that.

In my short time in this new life of mine, I learned I can choose to feel however I want. Though, there was a moment when I had forgotten I had that power.  I even forgot why I wanted to be here in the first place…but only eight or nine hours after I was born, it all came back to me. I am here because I wanted to be BRAVE…I wanted to HELP OTHERS…to UNDERSTAND…I am also here to LOVE.

I am here because I heard tomorrow would come…and like the rock star that it is, I am excited to see it for myself…because if I gained all this wisdom in a day, imagine with what eyes I will see tomorrow?

—-Emma G Prince  ©

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME =D

birthdaycake_45

(Yesterday I turned 45 but there was only a “3” candle. LOL. I can live with that.)

A Special Gift on Mother’s Day

My middle son gave me a special gift on Mother’s Day. All my boys are sweet, but this year, it was Everett’s turn to make me cry and boy…he got me good.

A few months ago I had told him how much I loved DR Seuss’ book Oh The Places You’ll Go! I had never known of such book until I had to read it in front of my son’s classroom last year. I barely got through the book but as soon as I walked out of the classroom, I couldn’t stop crying. It just had so much meaning to me, to my life at that moment.

I was forty-three or maybe I had already turned forty-four but I had just been going through so much in my life. It’s weird to think how different I am now from who I was last year. I was just waiting for earth’s gravity to squash me…pretty much.

But I hold Dr Seuss’ book close to my heart. It is so dead on. Watching those children in my son’s classroom that day, it just filled me with sadness knowing that each and every one of them would go through dark roads…and that some roads are only wide enough for one. I think of all my dark days and how many times I felt so alone. I wonder who these children will think of when these trying times grow near? God? Their angels? Their parents, family, a role model?…God, I pray whoever is their caretaker adds the tools they’ll be looking for so desperately when the time is needed.

I’m forty-four now, soon to be forty-five. I’ve been through clear roads, scary roads and hopeful roads. I’ve been alone at times and with company at others. I can definitely say that I am still learning so much, every day. Today, I am less afraid, less sad…because I’ve faced many of my fears and demons but I’ve had help. There is ALWAYS help.

I realize now I am a spirit…having a human experience…that I have a home, in another place…but that I CHOSE to come here for a reason…a reason my children and strangers help me remember every now and then. That reason is simple…to spread LOVE so that this planet can heal. Slowly, I am beginning to realize Dr Seuss was very right…

“And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)”

— DR. SEUSS

LOVE BIG OR GO HOME ❤

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!! =D

Past Lives

(Sorry if I jump around too much. It was four in the morning when I began typing this and was still sleepy. lol  But I knew if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t do it. I might fix it later.)

When I was a little girl, maybe around kinder or first grade, my mom tells me I used to tell her about my mother, Manuela.

“Yes…don’t you remember her? You two were friends!”

My mom says at times I’d give her chills with some of the things I said. LOL

I do remember something about me having a sister–who pinched me and wore glasses. Oh and that we had a little dog…white poodle or something like that.

Then, in my young adult years, I began having dreams that I had been a man, a very good-looking, young man; and I had messed around with many women. These women were so attracted to me, they’d do anything for me. They were so gullible and I took advantage and broke many hearts. I took it as a weird dream but wondered what it meant.

When I was a teen, about thirteen, my mother would tell me what an awful feeling she felt when I was born. She said as soon as she saw me she thought, “Oh NO! It’s HER! NO! NO! NO! Please! NOT HER!” And she felt an awful feeling in her gut, as if someone had punched or kicked her. At thirteen, this hurt my feelings. I mean, COME ON! But then, I had always felt my mother didn’t love me and I figured it was just her being mean to me, again.

As an adult, I grew tired of her telling me the same story…about how awful it was once she saw I was a girl…once she recognized me and I was HER. I couldn’t believe she’d tell me this. So, for a long time, I dealt with depression. I felt unloved by my parents but mostly by my mother. It was a pain so deep, I sometimes didn’t know how I was going to make it in this life. I figured, “what was the point of living if I didn’t have my mother’s love?” My depression went on for so many years…maybe thirty years because I felt it since I was a child.

I tried to kill myself twice. They were clumsy attempts really. The first time I was about ten and the second, a young teen—but my parents never knew. Around my mid twenties, I ended up seeing psychologists and psychiatrists, and little by little, I met amazing people who helped me grow strong, mentally.

It was weird because although my mother and I did not get along and she always made me feel like I was the “other woman”, we did come together at times…these were the best of times. She did teach me about God and kinder things. We connected when we talked about books, reading, spirituality, a loving God, hypnotherapy, past lives, regression…She was always reading a book and she’d share it with me.

I began getting interested in my spirituality and read many books she recommended, like Dr Brian Weiss, and others I came across on my own—but I’ve felt I’ve been searching for answers as to why she has pushed me away.

To cut this short, it wasn’t until earlier this year, once I made up my mind that I didn’t care if my mother loved me or not—and I recognized I was loved by many other important people in my life—that I came across a friend of the family who helped me figure all this out.

She used Spiritual Response Therapy. At first, I was skeptical and a bit scared. I wasn’t sure what to think but it ended up providing me with the answer I’ve been searching.

But first, let me jump around some more…in the past, I also had dreamt a shocking dream and woke up thinking, “I was the other woman!” In my dream, my mom and dad were not related to me but they were an item. I was a frivolous woman and had an affair with my father, her man. The woman, my mother, never forgave me. It makes sense because in this life, I have felt a deep respect with my fellow females and I have been careful about not making them feel I’m a threat. I’ve never been about taking someone’s man, competing for a man or anything like that.

So, back to this family friend. She came back with a surprising story but it made sense to me. She said she only went back so much but that my mom and I had been an “item”. She had been very cruel with me and emotionally, mentally abusive, to the point that I killed myself in despair. She told me that was why I suffered from depression in this life.

It took a couple of days for me to put together all the clues. I summed it all up: When I was a man, I broke a woman’s heart. She finally met her match in another life but I took him from her—he and I had an affair. We met again romantically, this time her, the woman and me, the man— but she had not forgiven me…and emotionally abused me and manipulated me so much that I took my own life.

In this life, I am now her daughter. That’s why she recognized me at birth. That’s why she had thought “NO! NOT HER!” That’s why she was jealous of my relationship with my father and made me feel like I was THE OTHER WOMAN. That’s why she told me once to take care of my own husband and to leave hers alone—I used to think my mother just had a sick mind. That’s why she was doing it all over again in this life, being emotionally and mentally abusive towards me. That’s why I felt depressed and wanted to kill myself…again…because no matter what I had done to show her I was sorry, she hadn’t forgiven me…and I hadn’t forgiven myself.

In this life, as her daughter, her opportunity to forgive me is evident. She had me inside of her, I was a product of my father and her. I came into this world from her womb. She’s had to bathe me, clothe me, feed me, clean me, watch me, soothe me…yes…SHE’S HAD TO LOVE ME. Growing up I sensed her mixed feelings of love and hate towards me.

As for me, in this life as her daughter, being female I had to feel what other women I hurt have felt. More importantly, I had the ultimate test and opportunity…an opportunity to realize that I had to FORGIVE MYSELF…that it didn’t even matter if my own mother, who is supposed to symbolize love and life, didn’t forgive me. I rejoice because I first forgave myself because I knew God loved me and his love was much, much greater. Knowing His love was what saved my life and what has brought me to this conclusion.

Finally, I approached my mother with all this information. I figured I’d give it one last try and asked her to be open minded. After all, I knew she believed in past lives. I ended up telling her everything I knew and apologized one last time.

“Mom, if I have hurt you in a past life or in this one, I am sincerely sorry.” I meant it with all my heart. She didn’t comment about what I had just told her. She just listened and I could tell her brain was absorbing it. But she did say, “Me too. I’m sorry if I have hurt you in a past life or in this one.”

That was good for me. In this life, her as my mother and I as her daughter, we’ve had to love one another no matter what our past has been. As a daughter, I’ve had to respect her and as a woman, I’ve had to understand her. And her, as my mother, she’s had to care for me and forgive me and as a woman, she’s had to empathize with me.

=)

LOVE BIG OR GO HOME

Little Spiderman Shirt

So, today I was cleaning and sorting and moving furniture around when I came across a small Spiderman shirt.

 

kbz_spider_shirt
Little Spiderman shirt

Immediately, I began feeling things I wouldn’t know how to describe. My heart squeezed and a lump went in my throat, it was my son’s shirt from about twenty years ago.

There’s much I regret. I once, for many years, claimed I never would regret a thing, for all I would regret has made me into the woman I am today—but I have a different thought today. I carefully took the shirt out from it’s place, as if it was from the days of Egyptian Pharaohs, afraid the fabric would disintegrate, and I held it up to breathe it all in. I smelled the still soft fabric as it felt cool to the touch, and in some ways delicate; it smelled fresh as if it was just washed yesterday.

The feeling, the coolness, the softness, the freshness, it all took me way back, some twenty years ago. I very much remember that shirt. My eldest was only three and a half or four at the time, and I must have been twenty four—the age he is today. As I type this here I am getting choked up. Tears are running down my face and I tell myself it is just a memory and why does it cause me sadness or pain? Well, I clearly answer myself back saying there are things I will never quite understand. The twin in me challenges to try. So, I take on the challenge.

I think about the pain I’m feeling. I’m attempting to reflect upon it as if I was there now, twenty years ago. He’s come home, my son, so happy and proud, excited to show me what he has done at school. I am smiling, I adore this little boy. I hug him and tell him how cool I think it is. He wears it for days and days. He one day outgrows it so I put it away for him, for safekeeping so that one day he may show it to his children.

This little boy grows up and is now a man. I am left feeling regret. “What regret?” I ask myself.  I wish I wouldn’t have been so messed up in my twenties. I wish I wouldn’t have had my stupid depression, which did nothing for nobody. Such a waste of time. I’m sitting here feeling angry, rebellious—because that depression came from my parents. I wish I would have taken him more places like the crater in Arizona, the great Redwoods and Yosemite. I wish we would have gone to see the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Mount Rushmore, Mall of America, etc. I think back on how I believed he was so special. Such a sweet boy with so much potential. I think of all the things we could have done, the places we could have explored, but it’s all useless because I do remember playing with him lots, reading and talking and joking and laughing; kissing and hugs. It finally dawns on me—the answer to how I could have made this little boy’s life so much better—I wish I could have loved myself.

I realize that is where I went wrong and hence, my pain. I wish I would have loved myself so much that it would have poured on to him like a silk blanket. I wish I would have known love and introduced it to him. The only love I knew was that which I felt for him, but I’ve been so ignorant for the love he’s always needed was the one I couldn’t give to myself. That’s the kind of love which would have made him believe in whom he is to become.