I was born to a very petite, fragile and frightened mother. She wasn’t born this way, it was a result of conditioning. She grew up in a time when society was emerging from the Great Depression. There was an immense amount of stress and struggle in the world and little peace, which took a toll on society. My mother grew up in poverty and was exposed to a very harsh environment; children were to be seen and not heard. Prevailing preconceived ideas at the time centered around women being less valuable than men. They were expected to work in the home and be very submissive to their husbands, regardless of whether the husband was an alcoholic or emotionally abusive. Women were taught to respect their husband and take what was dished out. Inherent in this era was a habitual lack of acknowledgement by women of their own worth, which deeply affected how my mother viewed life. My mother never spoke fondly of her childhood, I was told stories of intense physical and mental abuse. She often felt unloved by her mother, she felt that she was different and less than adequate in comparison to her siblings. Although her father was an alcoholic during her childhood, her fondest memories seemed to have been of him. We all know the story of the vicious cycle that continues down through the generations. It’s not a natural process, nor without immense effort that someone breaks this cycle running through a family. It’s often referred to as the generational curse. I believe my own grandmother had been passing down the “generational curse” of emotional, physical and spiritual suffering, which led to some poor decision-making regarding my mother’s well-being.
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