Families ~ Blessing Or Curse?
Families, you either love them or hate them! We all have them to some extent and what’s more we didn’t choose them or did we? But more of that later in the series. Due to the human birthing process, in all its wondrously gory glory, we have a mother, father and if fertility and finances allow a few siblings.
So let’s start with the parents, ladies first! Our mother has carried us for up to 9 months before the big day, the day of our emergence into this somewhat crazy, space-time world. Without realising it, a lot of subliminal womb-centred interaction has been going on between the developing me and my mother. The latest scientific studies seem to suggest that mother and baby share a lot more than blood and essential nutrients. Unknowingly the lady in question appears to be laying down an emotional imprint our her own feelings and state of mind to the little absorber within. It all makes sense to me now, after discovering that my dear mum conceived me out-of-wedlock back in the 1950s of Presbyterian Northern Ireland. Oh the shame, for a nice little church girl like her to bear in the puritanical atmosphere that undoubtedly surrounded her. It explains the hidden, quiet aspects of my nature and the over-riding desire to explain myself to others. But enough of my own inner blue-print. If each of us could examine the psycho-spiritual state of our mom during pregnancy we’d more than likely see a reflection of our fractured Self, the collective of sub-personalities that give us our personality.
May I suggest that the initial fracturing of our developing psyche begins in the womb, in those miraculous nine months of darkness and maternal connection. The umbilical cord may transfer much more than life’s essential constituents in its downward flow. During the heightened and somewhat terrifying state of pregnancy our mother often finds one of her own sub-personalities coming to her rescue. It provides the strength to get through the seemingly endless period of gestation. Is it any wonder that we may switch to its generational clone for assistance as we face life’s pressures.
Of course, motherhood is , in a utopian world, the source of nurture and unconditional love, the greenhouse that propagates the well-rounded child and hence the well-rounded adult. I stress utopian for, as we all know, mothers are only human, albeit some more human than others! All mothers face an uphill struggle to maintain the flow of love without demand in the face of exhaustion, and a loss of Self. Absentee fathers, either physical or emotionally, leave the poor lady with a Herculean task. It’s no wonder that they slip up from time to time causing a little self-protective tweak to our sensitive psyche-soul. All memories of withdrawal are noted and a protective sub-personality birthed as a result. May I suggest that our mother is the most important sculptor of our psycho-spiritual health. ‘Your just like your mother,’ is more than a male chauvinist slur; it can inadvertently hold a nugget of truth for all of us, whether male or female.
Mothers do a great job in general, though some don’t. These tragic cases only pass on their dysfunctional psycho-spiritual traits to their wounded offspring and so the downward spiral of generational flaws continue. Major trauma and its aftermath play havoc with both mother and child. It’s just the way it is in this space-time bubble. The problem is compounded when the mother in question cannot let go of her ‘nurturing’ role in later life. Operating in the dearth of authentic Self, a mom can cling to her mother identity like some badge of honor, a maternal Linus blanket to keep the demons of insignificance at bay. The seeds of psychological dysfunction sown in pregnancy, usually pop us as relational breakdown in the later stages of life when adult children break away to avoid the suffocating atmosphere of a mother, well past her sell-by date. It sounds cruel and uncaring but the new adult must get away for the sake of their own identity, away from the mummy’s little darling apron strings of a lady in crisis.
So what of moms? Well, at their best they are reflections of the Divine Feminine, the Nurturing Spirit of creativity and wholeness. A good mother is worth her weight in gold. A woman to be honored and cherished, albeit from a safe distance as time moves on. The primal bond of motherhood can be a continuing channel of generous authentication or a chain to stop us leaving. Discernment and compassion are required for we are dealing with the soul of a woman who has banked her all on her offspring. Only Divine Love can safely lead both mother and child into their individual destinies, an authentication of Self from beyond, a detachment of all that seemed so critical in the wondrous days of childhood.
In my next Blog, I’ll look at the role of fathers in our psycho-spiritual development. Best ask my son, Zac, what he thinks before I write it!
I’m dedicating this wee Blog to my dear departed mum, Elizabeth, a wonderful, if somewhat stoical woman, who protected me from the shame of men, until the day she died. Till then mum. ❤
Writer Dylan Morrison 