A cotillion of terns gather on our rocks below. All day they've posted themselves on the outermost cliffs squawking, flapping, resting- their droppings turning the black rocks white. From my limited research, it seems that these flighty, swoopy, and petite looking gulls are either nesting on Tropaco Point or just taking a collective respite for a further journey. With the binoculars I have been trying to locate nests or any signs as to why these flighty birds have chosen to place themselves on our rocky shore, withstanding the rolling waves from a disturbance in the Atlantic. The scene does not connote rest or sanctuary or, for that matter, a spot where I'd want to build a nest. However, I am in awe of this happening. The noise, the action, the elements. The "why now?" and "why here?" cross my mind. I could watch this webcam story for hours in a daze of delight.
With further light research, I discover that terns may be showing up in my life as spiritual messengers of endurance and tenacity. "Ha!" says I. The inter-webs also say that terns show up to give us hope. Don't you just love how Mother Nature always has your back? I should also add here that early last evening, as I came down through our courtyard before we headed out to dinner, I almost stepped on a wet, dead rat. True story. This is not a turn (pun intended) I want to take with this story, but I did want to include the spiritual insight of what a dead rat may represent. According to Animal-Spirits.com, ,"When Rat symbolism comes across your path, you are being asked to assert yourself in new areas that you have not yet explored...Alternatively, Rat symbolism warns you to evaluate the clutter around you...and purge old baggage and feelings that no longer serve you."
Messages received.
What I shared in my previous post was a birthing- a release of an experience I couldn't embody until I wrote it down. I had to shovel through the motions and emotions with my pen (and keyboard) in order to diffuse tensions that pulled me apart into dissociation and then rearranged themselves into action. Piece by piece. (And thank you, dear reader, for bearing witness, for your support, for keeping your arms open.) I have lived in the robust wake of my mother for 47 years- her strong will, her choices and her addictions- and driving her to rehab was one of the most powerful, yet arduous, experiences of my life. And it's just the beginning of the road. (Another thing the rat will tell you, if you're still listening to animal spirit, "New beginnings always lead to new beginnings.")
"Welcome terns! Welcome rats (kinda sorta)!"
endurance. tenacity. hope. assertion. shedding... beginnings
As the dust settles and the ragged exhaustion fades, I'm in a much different spot than I was a week ago. I see that as an adult child of an alcoholic, I've often felt helpless to what could happen in my world, as well as responsible for what would happen next. It makes no sense, I know. As I watched alcohol play out in my family, I thought I could make things better by being one step ahead. When I was younger, I thought that if I made less noise, studied harder, followed the rules, never spoke back- I could appease these people who had the power in my life. I could read their needs and make things calmer- be the eye in their storm. As I got older, I understood that I could have boundaries, disengage and re-engage, but, underneath it all, I knew that the ticking time bomb could go off at any time and disrupt my walls of protection. That would mean I'd have to dig deeper, rebuild, lower expectations, shout into the wind, and rework my next steps- all for the sake of doing my best to show up and be present in my mother's life. I never demanded the reverse, I just never liked the idea of being the daughter who closed herself off completely to a sad, unreachable, shrinking woman.
Yes, I've endured. And haven't we all.
Yes, I am tenacious. I've got some grit under my belt.
Hope- it's definitely being tested.
Assertion- I drove my mama's ass to the treatment facility, didn't I?
Shedding... well, that's where the 4th house comes in.
As I learn more about astrology, things in my chart are revealing themselves at very apropos times. The 4th house in astrological charts symbolizes the home and family, the relationship with the mother, the family history and traditions. The planets that were present within one's 4th house at the time of one's birth contribute to the process of individuation and self-actualization. I have 3 planets in my 4th house, 3 out of 9 (if you include Pluto). Needless to say, my 4th house is heavy with my sun sign, Venus, and Mercury. So, like the rat and the terns, I guess you could say that the cosmos have something to share with me as well.
Mind you, I am just a novice at astrology, but I believe that one of my purposes in this lifetime is to try and heal my mother wound. To shift the course of my mom's impact and shine light on the fact that because of her actions, I have learned/am learning how to mother myself and my children with an open heart. To break a history/disease/tradition of addiction. I also think that with my 4th house being the most abundant of all of my 12 houses, I can't help myself for counting on the home as my place of grounding, security, comfort, reflection, inspiration, serenity, work, and play. With all that's just gone on, I am being asked to revisit the lack of security, serenity and grounding that I experienced in my childhood home, and again reaffirm what I've done to change that pattern.
As my sisters and I witness our mother's best efforts to face her alcoholism, we are all discovering unsung hurts that have been silenced due to my mom's lack of emotional availability. We are showing up in the family therapy "room" and we are speaking truths and voicing concerns that may finally be heard, but maybe not. It's not pretty- it's defeating, sad, infuriating, heartbreaking, lonely, tiring, frustrating and triggering. Breathe. If I'm going to heal this mother of a wound, I know it will include disengaging from previous hurts and looking towards forgiveness. Letting go for new beginnings.
I also know it will be one day at a time.
With love, grit and gratitude,
St. Sunshine
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