All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Shakespeare (Jacques; As You Like It, Act 2)

The word family comes from Latin, familia – Servants of a household. A household that has agreed to be of service to one another. They are not our servants – they have chosen to be of service – to assist in our growth, our evolution. The journey may be pleasant, but then again it may not. It presents us with the opportunity to grow. We have free will and choice and therefore we may choose to get stuck, to be wounded and broken for life. We may choose to ignore, to close our eyes and do our best to escape, but it has been said – “You can run, but you can’t hide.” The intention of the family – the servants of your household is to support you on your way to oneness. However, if you don’t care for the original cast – you can leave the stage – your stage. You can give yourself a breather, and then in due time – they will show up again and again, if need be, in a new and different guise with the same story line, ready to play their part opposite you. No need to rush – Life is patient – “it is your dime” (this has been said as well).

My father left us when I was a teen – my youngest sibbling of five was three. He shrugged his shoulders in our kitchen, told me he didn’t love us and out he went. We broke. All of us. No one talked about what had taken place, there was no consoling, no banding together. He left and we broke.

My father was revered by many. People liked him, he was impressive. This kind of person does not do wrong. If they turn out to disappoint it makes those who looked up to them, feel foolish, that they have been a poor judge of character. So when he decided to leave and move to the other side of the world, people told us – it was our fault. A man like my father would never leave his family. They said we hadn’t been a good enough family and that is why he left.

Now my father was not affectionate – he was critical and sarcastic and for a child, this kind of nature can be humiliating and to say the least damaging. But I wanted my father’s love more than anything – so I didn’t give up. With each rejection – I’d come back for more. My efforts failed. For a time to protect myself from the pain – I hated him. It didn’t last though – because, I loved him and somehow I believed he loved me too.

In any story – it’s a courageous choice to play the villian, because if you are good at it – people hate you.

My father would appear to be the villian. But he wasn’t. He gave me the opportunity to grow. To move beyond his limitations. You see, his father had been similar. Not affectionate, always yelling. The patriarch of the family – the dictator. You did as he instructed – your choices were chosen by him. My father didn’t have any skills to be a father – he only knew what he had lived through. Remember, the eras that came before did more repeating than releasing – they picked up where those who had come before them had left off. The belief that if they survived it, so would you.

Surviving – hmm, means you stay alive – you keep breathing. Thriving – is living. We survived, we kept breathing; the living, the thriving – not so sure we all made it. But we are meant to make it. We are meant to reap some value from it. I did – eventually.

At first it came on strong, the “Not Good Enough” Syndrome hit hard, took hold and crept into my being to where I felt I was being devoured by it. I just wanted this one person to love me, to hold me, hug me and tell me I was good, pretty and smart. I wanted this person to want to be with me, to walk towards me and not away from me.

He didn’t – he left and went far away to be with someone else, somewhere else.

Wounded and aching over my loss – I recreated the scene with different characters repeatedly. I was the same person – believing I wasn’t good enough, not worthy or deserving and therefore I kept attracting the same results. This is how it works – you stay the same you attract the same.

My Dad was perfect in the role of my father. Perfect to give me something I needed in order to grow, to be more – not less. To steer me away from the idea that you can only be loving if you are loved by another. That love is found on the outside. My Dad was perfect for the role because his father had rejected and been harsh with him. My Dad was looking for love, approval, support, encouragement, acceptance – just like me.

I’ve found it, I’ve found it all. No one showed up to give it to me. I showed up, I grew up and gave myself the truth. That I am loving and loveable. I am Love. Yes – I love me.

I hope my dad has found this for himself. My dad was not the villian – he was a gift. I endured some torturous experiences, but eventually I did get here.

Love is not – who loves you – it is knowing you love you, for you are Love.

While my dad is working in his gardens amongst the foothills in a distant land – I hope he is happy. I want him to know I made it. I asked him a long time ago to help me on my journey – he did, and I am thankful.

“When you know more, you do better.”
Oprah Winfrey

Origin:
The New College Latin & English Dictionary
by; John C. Traupman, Ph.D

Dictionary.reference.com
“Servants in a Household”
1350–1400; Middle English familie < Latin familia a household, the slaves of a household, equivalent to famul ( us ) servant, slave + -ia -y3

Photo: My Father