12. Mother Mary pulled me out of the Matrix.

2.5 weeks in my childhood home...the sorrow and the relief.

Blog Overview: Suppression / Grief / Unconscious Behaviors / Organic Healing

I’m on this kick around “healing.” Living in a spiritual community, this word gets tossed around constantly.

Before I go into a rant, please note that this is my personal experience. My goal in bringing up this topic is simple: integration. I’ve experienced one of the most integral “healings” of my life thus far and recognize the importance of documenting it as a means of preservation and a deeper “settling in.” The recent letting go and subsequent heart opening cleared out a massive block in my maternal lineage, one that merits recognition. I’m not talking external validation. I’m talking, FUCK YEA, I DID IT! I. I. I. I did it. I did it for me. For my mom. For my grandma. For the collective maternal wounds. It was years in the making, so I’m ready to share the process with the world – aka my 40 loyal readers!

Back to this concept of healing. Why do I have a problem with this word?

Well, healing implies that something needs to be healed, as if something is broken. And boy does the spiritual community love using this as a means of revenue. I’m not saying that investing in coaches and mentors is shameful, by no means. Nor is making revenue for offering services. But we really need to analyze the loop that you can fall into. Is there a part of you that is constantly looking for healing? Is there always more to “heal”? Do you feel this journey is never-ending suffering? Are you looking outside of yourself for the answers?

I certainly did…and sometimes still do. In no way am I claiming that I’m perfect, but I feel so strongly about this topic because so many “healers” create “ceremonies” and offer spaces for a kind of impromptu healing. How is this organic?

It’s like the ocean giving itself a deadline for when the coral reefs will revitalize. “On March 12, 2034, all coral reefs will be vibrantly renewed!”

Okay, okay, I’m being a bit dramatic. Sure, it’s possible to go to a 10-day retreat led by highly activating Be-ings and experience immense “healing.” In fact, I’ve done a 3-day meditation retreat and felt the closer to God than I had ever before experienced up until that moment. Still, I want to emphasize that lifechanging miracle healing moments happen organically. They cannot be planned, and yet the irony is that there is often a build-up.

I guess the point I want to make is that the more you release your desire to “heal” the more likely the transcendental codes will drop in. You can read books that speak on the power of now, the need to get out of your head and into your heart, codependency, trauma responses, victimhood mentality, blah blah blah. I’ve read many, but none gave me the visceral, lived experience of death, purification, rebirth, and integration. They gave me ideas, which turned into potential energy, then an opportunity to feel the codes land.

One man I recently met said I sounded like a Buddhist, then said I was practically preaching from the Bible. Most of the content of religions and of spiritual beliefs have the same underlying current – the “I am” presence. So, when I speak on these spiritual topics, I give the conceptual relay of information…aka I channel. They nod, agree (or disagree), but more than anything, they feeeeeel the frequency of those codes because I live by them. I carry them…instead of preaching what I hear everyone saying on social media, which they chug and devour and regurgitate without actually carrying the codes. These people are selling the medicine that they actually need.

I call bullshit.

I’m not going to summarize these books or my humble understanding of universal laws. Instead, I’ll share the story of my most intense healing to date.

I’d recommend you read Blog #6: Meeting Me Through My Partner for more context. I describe a MDMA ceremony that unleashed my ugliest, most hidden shadow, which was a 9.6 seismic earthquake of a wake-up call. Essentially, I experienced a pattern I’d been unconsciously reenacting, whereby anyone who did something I didn’t like, I would reject. Conditional love at its finest…

Imagine this: everyone I’ve ever met has a candle in my heart chakra. As soon I felt disappointed, annoyed, bothered by them, etc. I blew out their candle and could not see or feel their light. I turned cold and cruel.

Now, if you know me at all, this may surprise you. (Or maybe not?). I’m quite a loveable being and share the overflow of my light with others. But have you ever met me in my darkest night? Did you know that I secretly have judged you? Did you know that I’ve got an intolerable superiority complex?

Yea, me. The girl who won all the awards (and that’s not entirely an overstatement) developed a persona of power. She has an open heart for the most part, but she schemes. She’s looking to prove herself. She wants the world to acknowledge her intelligence. She loves praise. It’s what fed her emotional needs as a child. That’s when she was most seen…when she was succeeding according to societal standards of achievement.

You know what that did to me? It taught me to judge others. It created a hierarchy of lovability. It showcased to me that I needed to prove myself worthy of love. Not only did I believe these stories, but I also projected them onto others.

Before I go into to these very vulnerable details, I need to preface that this is the work I signed up for to heal for the greater collective. This is my work. No one convinced me of these stories. Sure, my parents, teachers, and society as a whole are basically brainwashed into living with a conditional kind of love, but I was the one who believed these stories. I was conditioned in my early years because of the people I was surrounded by and the stories I was told, but someone else with an entirely different mission could’ve experienced the same situations and not have made the same correlations.

To make this statement more attainable, consider this: three people could drive past a gnarly car crash and have immensely different reactions depending on their unique pain bodies. Two could be totally unaffected while the third person could be trembling with fear, flashbacks of their parents being killed in a car crash infiltrating her mind.

Belief systems. They stem from childhood and replay throughout our life until we reacquaint ourselves with the story/pattern and rewire it with Higher Intelligence.

So, here goes nothing…

Ahhhhhhh. This is painful. And so fucking liberating because I did the work. But scary, because I don’t want you to misinterpret.

I’ll preface with this: no one did anything wrong.

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My inquisitive journey began on Kauai in 2020 during COVID. There was one day I realized how unhappy I was even though I was getting unemployment payments, living in Hawaii, and doing whatever I wanted. That’s when I knew something had to change.

I started to paint and something woke up inside of me. My unemployment money went to rent, psychedelics, and art supplies and I became obsessed with the idea of being a full-time artist.

"Chaos Ensues" March 2020

2nd painting...felt like an awakening.

But so much ego was involved, validation and comparison, in particular. I was craving something beyond the lived experience of creating art for the sake of it. There was always a means to an end…my inner-child was looking outside herself for praise, because that’s how she learned to receive love.

Watch how this works…

I’d send photos of the paintings to my mom and either get a thumbs up emoji or no response at all. I shared that I sold a painting for $3,333 eight months into painting…no response. I co-organized a 4-day art festival and sent her a flyer…no response. This went on and on, each time my pain body getting bloodied and bruised.

The story….my mom doesn’t love me. I’m not doing enough to get the love and affection from my mother that I desire. This happened so much that I decided to just stop sharing. It hurt too much to not get the love I needed.

Now, I’ve got to share that my parents gave me an incredible childhood, the kind they never got. Amazing house, opportunities to travel, extracurricular activities galore, driving 4-wheelers at 5 years old, sleepovers with friends, birthday parties, lots of Christmas presents, and the list goes on. That was their way of loving us.

So much was based in the material, rather than in the social/emotional realms.

I’m Pisces as fuck. I feel what’s underneath all the layers. And I’m so emotional. My parents, not so much. And that’s okay. They were not given the space to emote as children. It wasn’t safe. Their root chakra work was entirely different: financial, material security. And so, they gave that to me!

Now, imagine how they must feel when their superstar daughter goes to Hawaii and surfs/paints/dives etc. instead of work a 9-5 full time job after years of higher education to have the means to a line of work that pays well. There were many times where my bank account would’ve shaken them to their core. They must’ve thought I was batshit crazy to go into the unpredictable realms of art. Their generation thinks “suffering artist.” And that’s not their fault.

I was supposed to be successful. I always was. But to me, their version of success didn’t satisfy me. Something was still missing. Money cannot buy my happiness, nor can anything outside of myself.

So instead of looking to my parents for approval I looked inward. I slowed down to hear the thoughts that rampaged my Mind and learned that I have a wildly critical ego. Where did my precious, innocent self learn this?

After 2+ years of doing mirror work, meditating, journaling, practicing yoga, dancing, praying, learning, etc., I could catch myself looking for validation. I studying myself, looking for the root of my suffering.

Flashbacks of childhood helped me see where I learned this behavior. I was rewarded for A’s on my report card, but an F received criticism (which, of course, I never got because I didn’t want to be a capital F ‘failure’). My parents’ judgement of the parents of babies crying in grocery stores was proof of their discomfort with the full spectrum of emotions. Shunning a 27 year old woman for living with her parents and working in Starbucks as she dealt with immense depression. Just a few examples of what I grew up with...

My parents aren’t the culprits. The illusion is. The programs in our DNA are deep pains in our lineages, and I know for a fact I’m not the only one experiencing this density.

Eventually, I got to a place of accepting and forgiving my mom for her unconscious ways of deeming someone worthy or unworthy of love. I finally understood that she learned this behavior and was likely on the receiving end of conditional love, so she must be hurting as well. And since I had a visceral experience of this in the most explosive and painful way possible on MDMA, my empathy for her grew all the more. The matrix…maya, the illusion…is so convincing.

When I got the opportunity to fly to Virginia for 50% off in January, I knew it was time to go home and show my face. A new face. New haircut. New posture. New body shape. And most definitely, a new way of living, dealing with conflict, and maturity.

My parents…not much change. Same beautiful house. Same topics of conversation. A lot of the same. Change, NO WAY! Comfort is staying in the same frequency. And I fully accepted their choice. I no longer needed them to change for me to feel safe and loved.

3.5 years later, their daughter gets home for her first visit. But they don’t really ask any questions???

I wasn’t surprised.

“They don’t want to know. It’s too confronting.”

The coldness and cruelty on my maternal side is so intense. And my mom was soooo unconscious of it, unaware of how she kept pushing me away, even when I came back to visit. In her mind, I was the one who needed to change in order for her to accept me. Those layers tried hiding themselves, but the vibration was there looking for justification to react.

All the years of her (and my dad’s) judgements toward my lifestyle and changed beliefs came up. My psychic nature and intuitive feelings were all confirmed two nights before I flew back to Big Island….I overheard her going on an intoxicated rant. The vibration was so dense. The words stabbed me in the heart. “Date whoever you want. Eat whatever fruit you want. Just don’t call me. Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone.”

She didn’t know I overheard. She probably didn’t even notice how her friends froze up hearing her speak indirectly to her daughter in such a manner for absolutely no reason.

If she slowed down for a moment, she would’ve heard me through the thin walls bawling into a pillow. She may have felt compassion if she knew how much I was hurting hearing her speak to me in that way. But the entity was too believable. Cause that is what’s happening, right? It’s not HER that’s saying that. It’s the pain saying that. It’s her mom saying it to her. And her mom’s mom. And on and on.

In that moment, I needed to be my own mother. I had to feel the Divine Mother within and trust that I would always love myself unconditionally. But the walls were so thin and it wasn’t “safe” for me to emote my grief.

I called Saora, my beautiful soul-ally partner, for support. Get this: she was the one who was on the receiving end of my cruelty during the MDMA ceremony, the one who I evicted from my heart. And she’s also the one who held me in immense compassion as I spent several moon cycles understanding the pattern and retemplatizing. So, when I told her what my mom said, she knew that I was on the receiving end of a very cruel energy.

Saora was with a friend on a beach near Melbourne. They held space for me, which allowed me to fully purge. It felt like a safe bridge, a portal that moved my energy in rural Virginia into the east coast Aussie shores. Having that support split me wide open into the grief. My sobs were for all the times I held back the tears and hid my pain. The thin walls made no difference because they were there witnessing my pain and seeing the beauty in my fullness.

Though we weren’t on a video call, Saora saw me balled up on the floor, my forehead on the old carpet, trembling. She felt my solar plexus dumping into the Earth and the massive upgrades in my field: the Divine Mother codes. With a gentle invitation, Saora helped me not get hooked into believing the story while also reminding me that this was an opportunity to be the Divine Mother for myself.

“Don’t call me. Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone.” To my inner child, it was proof that she didn’t love or accept me. I wasn’t worthy of her love. And it was so tempting to believe.

I didn’t hook into it, but I grieved so so so hard. How could I not? Those words stung and burned…but no longer scarred. If I were to pretend it didn’t hurt, I would not have been able to access the codes of the Divine Mother, she who holds the full spectrum of humanness without judgement. I would’ve held onto it, suppressing the grief I had been carrying from all the times my mom unconsciously judged me, thereby setting expectations of having to prove myself of worthy of her love. As if I were condoning the behavior….as if I were accepting that as motherly behavior.

Absolutely not.

I was the eye in the center of a hurricane, purging the immense buildup of stagnant emotions, my heart’s Samskara finally uncoiling. The entire field changed and something in me shifted dramatically.

In that grief portal, I felt Mother Mary in the room. My Mind wanted to pull me out of the release and into story, but I felt my inner child’s grief while simultaneously feeling my inherent Divine Mother’s compassion. This was true, organic healing. I felt wrapped in love holding myself through the sobs.

The next day, a part of me wanted to address all of this in a way that made my mom feel my pain. I wanted to be harsh back at her. After a long drive and a lot of space, it became clear to me that this was an invitation to practice healthy conflict. No pointing fingers and blaming, just radical honesty.

Lo and behold, I arrived home to my parents calmly awaiting me. I asked them if they would be open to talk. They, too, were going to ask me to sit to chat.

I began with genuine gratitude and praise. Then, I repeated those words: “Don’t call me. Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone.” Over and over again, I looked into my mom’s soul and said those words. I made her feel their impact. I made her see my humanness. I made her look at her child as a living soul, not an object to judge. I made her feel my heart.

They listened to me. The entity was still alive and kept pulling my mom out of her body, trying to close her off to me. I kept pointing to it, saying that it isn’t her doing that, it’s a learned pattern. I explained that I know she’s hurting when she acts in that way while showing her that I am not longer available to bite that hook any longer. Nor do I tolerate it…

I showed her the more she entertains this behavior, the further she’d push me away. Her very own daughter…the one she sacrificed so much for.

“Do you see how you only love me if I’m meeting your expectations? Do you see what this does to our relationship? Do you see how it always sets me up for failure?”

Throughout this entire conversation, I kept explaining that I don’t blame her nor need her to change…and more than anything, that I forgave her.

I empathized with her. After all, I too experienced that entity so fiercely dominate, convince, and justify my actions during the MDMA ceremony. That helped her understand how this behavior is learned, not inherent, and therefore not her fault.

So much was discussed, including…

• My journey learning that I’m responsible for rewriting these beliefs

• How art has helped me grow immensely

• The fact that my mom has not once called me in the 3.5 years I’ve lived in Hawaii due to her judgements of how I choose to live my life

• Explaining what I’m learning and how that has helped me become a more loving person

• Ancestral trauma

• The ways that my parents, my teachers, and society as a whole taught me to people-please and avoid conflict (thereby stagnating growth)

• The benefits of my childhood and how they have helped me to propel out of scripted societal norms

• The process of forgiveness

• How I’m having a huge impact on the younger generations

I helped them, my mom in particular, get into their hearts and feel my radiance.

Guess what happened?

She genuinely apologized. She cried. She showed me the hurt of her inner child.

When we were hugging (the first time she hugged me with two arms and with an open heart in more years than I can count on my hands) and crying together, she brought up the time I did a 28-day meditation/journaling journey in 2020 and had to ask my mom what she regretted most. Boy, did I drag my feet on this one. We weren’t even on speaking terms, let alone go deep. But I asked her and eventually she begrudgingly consented. It brought up a lot for her.

In that embrace, she reminded me of what she said: “#1 biggest disappointment: that I was not a better mom and took the time to play. Always had a lot of responsibilities…very little fun, too much stress and yelling because of being stressed. #2: not learning piano or how to be a really good ballroom dancer.”

How could I not have compassion for her? It’s hard being a mom. I know she did her best and forgive her for the rest.

But I had to be the one who cleared this for our lineage. It’s an absolute honor and I know it will lead to far more love in my heart.

What is organic healing to me?

It’s not needing anything to change…while also courageously leaning into what you fear the most.

I felt it all coming the whole time I was in Virginia on my visit. It’s why I got the call to visit, but not necessarily why I went. I did the work. And I give immense credit to Saora for helping me see more clearly and live with greater integrity and compassion. Without her, I would’ve continued unconsciously projecting my judgements on the world and creating a lovability meter.

My unshakeable acceptance of my parents carried the resonance for them to open to this frequency of unconditional love toward me. I just had to point to their unconscious behaviors and remind them of what it means to love without borders. Like the true Divine Mother would...

My relationship with my mother is far from perfect. She still hasn’t called me since I’ve been back on island. I’ll need to keep reminding her that she needs to make an effort. I’ll continue to be patient with her as she learns. Maybe one day she too will dance and play the piano. Better yet, maybe we could waltz together and I could play the bottom hand keys as she plays the top hand?

May this be a reminder that the more inner work you do, the more your outer world will reflect those shifts. It starts within…

Feel it to heal it.

God bless this healing. My heart feels so much lighter because of it.

Love,

Riddlez

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