Guidance

(Written in January 2006)
Dear Guides and Guardian Spirits, I’m having a pretty hard time.  I did the morning chores – wash dishes, haul wood, fill birdfeeders – with an ache in my heart, a lump in my throat, tears behind my eyes.  Please help me.
Dear Jenny, you’ve been in worse places than this and you have come out of them.  This stony emptiness that you feel really belongs to your mother.  This is what she felt when you were a baby and your father was away at war.  She only knew how to “put a good face on it,” to be upbeat and cheerful when others were around.  No one had ever taught her how to face and be with her own pain.  So she repressed it, denied it, and medicated it with alcohol.  When she was alone with you she allowed herself to collapse in tears and demand love and comfort from you — you were just a baby, you had no idea what was going on, you did your best, but no one had loved or comforted you.  You were too small to say and do what your mother needed.  Other times she was irritable and got angry or ignored you.  She paid no attention to your needs but only to her own.  So you learned that your own needs were not important, that you were bad to have needs, that your job was to make things OK for the people around you.  This is a very poor foundation for being able to live creatively and authentically.  You were also dealing with post-traumatic stress and a family karma of failure to mourn losses.  Despite this severe wounding, you have managed to do a lot of good in your life.  You have never intentionally harmed anyone but yourself.  You have gone out of your way to support people you care about.  You have done your best to live lightly on the earth.  You have contributed money and energy to causes you believe in.  Dear Jenny, this is not a wasted life!
I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do.
It’s OK to do nothing.  It’s OK to read Brother Cadfael for 30 min and then go up and paint for 30 min.  Courage!  We love you.

Well, I’m back to wanting to die.  I was trying to read but my heart ached so badly and the words didn’t mean anything.  I think I’ve lost my hope that the medication is going to make a difference.  Why bother to go up and paint?