Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation: Motherhome

Dear God,

I'm addressing this to the parts of Spirit I know as God/Mind, the Ice Man, and God/Body, the Father of Manifestation. Lately I have come to know you both in new forms, and I want you to know how much I appreciate your non-threatening presentation there. But even so... there are still some things I can't say to you, so I'm writing them down.

I'm at a crossroads, I'm standing in the parting of the roads, I need to choose.

Years and years of crying, bringing in parts and parts and more parts and crying their pain, remembering their memories, still... nothing has prepared me for this.

Believing you love me is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Everything within me is screaming. I wonder if you really know how much pain I've suffered and how much damage has been done. Do you really know?

I believed in "God's Love" as an abstract far-away thing. As a child it seemed real to me. But as a young adult I came to realize I never heard you. I never really felt your love. I was afraid there was something wrong with me. Why did I have so many doors closed? I longed to feel it, I longed to be able to throw open the doors and let your love shine in on me. That became the basis for my first commitment. I vowed to find all the blocked pain and closed places within me, so that I could hear your voice and know you.

I had no idea what I was trying to do. If I had really known, then, I might not have begun.

I didn't know, then, about Original Cause. I only knew my early childhood pains, and there was much I had to unravel there in order to remember it. But still, I couldn't connect with you, couldn't feel your love. So I kept going, to the next level, where I remembered past lives, and found more blocked and forgotten places within me, old long buried hatred and resentments. Many years were spent crying layer after layer of old pain, and still I couldn't feel your love.

I began to be bitter. I began to believe this loving light must be a lie. A myth. Either that or my heart was permanently damaged, lying dead within me. I began to give up. I remember crying to you then, in my love and longing, why, why can't I feel you? What's wrong with me? And the floodgates opened. I remembered.

The long years since then have been spent crying and remembering and crying... unraveling layer after layer, and drawing in parts and crying their pain. The damage is horrific, and there are times when I'm not sure it can be healed. Have you seen any of this? Do you feel my pain? Do you see what you've done here?

I know that somewhere at the center of this onion is a core of strength and power and I'm going to find it. This was my next level of commitment, to find all of my self, all of my parts that have been lost and damaged, to draw us all together and heal so that we may find our strength. We will not be used, we will not be helpless victims any more. And I promised myself that if, at the end of this road, we find you do not truly love us, if it turns out this has all been an elaborate lie to coax us back to life in slavery... we will either find a way to live without you, or we will annihilate you and ourselves and everything. We will not live this way any longer.

But now I find myself at a crossroads, I know it's time to make a new commitment, and I don't know if I can do it.

I've searched within me. I've asked and asked all the parts of me. I've tried to find one tiny shred of a memory, and I can't find one. Not one. How can that be? Not ONE memory of you loving me. Every part of me remembers pain and rejection and scorn and feeling like a bother, a nuisance, or a downright evil thing to you. Every part of me has her own slant on what happened down the years, but not one has a memory of comfort or trust. I found memories of lust. Spirit, was there ever a moment of love? Was all your love for me fragmented out into Heart and the Father of Manifestation? Even that love is tainted by hate and betrayal.

I feel lost. I try to understand why, now, after all this time, I feel you breathing over my shoulder. Why, now, after all this pain, do you come knocking at my door in this guise of harmless old gardener? In every song on the radio, every movie on the tv, whether I flip channels or not, there you are trying to reach me. And all I can do is cry and cry.

I don't trust you, I don't trust that you love me. Why now? What made you suddenly decide it was time to try to help me? What made you decide you love me now? Or do you? I cry such rage... my head feels like it will explode. Is it just that your precious universe threatens to die without me? Should I drag myself back from the pits of hell just so you can continue to live? Am I just another tool you finally realized you couldn't build your house without?

And in the deepest recesses of my darkened heart, I find a pink pearl still alive and beating and longing for you. That's the most frightening thing of all. Rediscovering my love for you, and ... when I look up and I see you both standing there together in one body, looking like every fantasy I've ever dreamed, the prince charming come to save me I fall into a puddle on the floor.....

and cry the shame of being so ugly and horrible and fat and ... The self-hate has piled up high in this basement room. Shoved down and down and down, compressing and getting heavier and heavier... and there she sits, our body and all the pus and sores and wounds and fat and grossness showing on the outside how it really is on the inside. Self-loathing that you will never love a beast like me, and ... I have no control over my appearance anymore. Every pain manifests itself in another bleeding sore, another roll of fat, another vile odor. I remember once having other essence with me, but everything that could leave me, left bit by bit. To live in the sun. To have beautiful bodies. To dance in the moonlight and get your attention and love, or at the very least, your lust. I envy them, they at least can dance. I am so heavy in this corner, I have trouble sitting up, let alone dance in the moonlight.

Do you see? Do you understand? How can I do this?

Please, help me.
If I open this door you will have access to my most tender heart, and I don't know if I can let that happen. I don't know if I can take that risk.
Please, be trustworthy.

Followup Letter: To Trust or Not to Trust

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