7 generations of inherited trauma Gifted to me by my mother, As the if the shame and guilt are a prize, Harrowing heirlooms of our ancestors, Handed down as holiness by our grandmothers, Unspoken, unhealed, unloved fragments, Split into slivers, bored into the skin of our souls. Disguised, coveted, protected, poisoned, From cross to cradle to grave and over again, Passed through the wrath of father’s belt like wisdom Whispered into the welts on his beloved, bleeding son, Procreated by denial, determination and duty, Trampled deep into the fabric of my DNA, By the broken in boots brandished by my father, Pulling myself up first by my bootstraps, then the noose, 7 generations of trauma, handed down like a legacy, Seared into my thoughts, my mind, even into my fertility, My mother still whispers so no one can hear her say, “Wicked child, my wounds are your fault, I love you.” Shouldering the weight of the her wounds, my birth rite. Chin up, in silence, dutifully, like my grandmother, Held held head high, lips pressed tightly, tortured. “Quiet, shhh!” My screams, they beg for freedom, 500 pills poured down my choking throat gag them, Seeping out, escaping, dripping with the blood, Self inflicted wounds on my 17 year old wrists, Buried again under the kissed on stitches and scars, Birthed into the beautiful blue eyes of my daughter. Echoing in my child’s protests as she is ripped out of my arms, My ancestors were never allowed to speak their truth, It has become my purpose to scream the good news. 7 generations of trauma begin to unravel in my truth. I was sent to lead the liberation of my family line- I begin to remember the truth of my ancestral role- I was sent to hold a torch and walk without fear. Discarding our shame, my head held high. The truth is: Before I was an independent, modern day woman, Longing for the illusion of a lover raised by an unwounded father, Before the touch of that sick soul on my 4 year old flesh, Before war became a game played by politicians,

Hello all, just checking in... Found the network at the end of June and starting to dig into the material. Recently gone through a 'dark night of the soul' and was able to come through the other side - a little tattered, a little torn, but mentally intact and with a renewed motivation to move forward with healing, forgiveness, and dropping the baggage that I've carried since childhood. Thank you, Justen, for reaching out and saying hello! Meditation has been one of the foundations of my recovery amd self-care. Be well and blessings for a bright and beautiful day tomorrow!