Ghosts.

I feel like I need to start this post with a disclaimer. Probably a few of them now that I really think on it...

1) Therapy is amazing.  You should seek out a professional if you feel like you need to.

2) I am not a professional. I am making this up as I go. Don't be a dumbass like me. Seek out professionals if you need to.

3) I am going to talk about some really personal stuff. Probably stuff you may not have ever heard me talk about before, or not this deeply. If you don't want to read about thoughts of suicide, childhood trauma, religious trauma, or child death - this is probably not the post for you. Also swears.

About three months ago, I woke up from a pandemic fog and realized, holy shit it's 2021. I am going to be fucking 42. Now, I am actually pretty cool with my 40's. I am only a couple years into this decade of life, and I am such a huge huge fan. My shits to give have really become so much lighter.

When I made this realization, that 42 was screaming up on me that is, I turned to my husband and said, "Oh shit! This is the year I get all the answers!" He looked confused but is a good sport, and was calmly able to say, "What?" in a non-condescending and concerned way.  I wouldn't be much of a nerd if I didn't realize that the answer to the universe is 42.

In an effort to get the universe to give me all the answers at 42, I realized I would need to do some work here. Some DIY therapy if you will. I've gotten really into crystals, tarot, and chakras, and body positivity, yoga, HAES, meditation, reading up on goddess lore, and feminist essays, and all sorts of what I call, "woo-woo spicy psychology" Remember when I said I am not a professional? I cannot stress that enough here. I am not a professional. Do not use crystals and tarot to replace real therapy by professionals, but if you wanna just use them as tools for self-reflection. I think they can be helpful focusing agents, also it's fun to put crystals in your bra and they are pretty. But don't use them as a deodorant. That shit does not work. 

For some reason 3 felt important to me. I had this notion of doing some intense spicy psychology exactly 3 full moons prior to my birthday. So each new/full moon I did some intention setting and tarot reading for myself specifically around my trauma. It's what a lot of amateur woo-woo spicy psychologists like myself like to call, "Shadow Work". 

Here is the tricky part. When I started this process, I didn't have a name for my trauma, but I am pretty sure I have it. (Seriously, after 2020 who doesn't?) But it took me all of 15 seconds of meditation on it and the answer was, a very loud, "Girl, you got mommy issues."

I knew that in my gut. This was not exactly a shocker or newsflash, but I didn't exactly know what that really means for me. I've never tried to inspect that pile of nonsense too closely because it's painful. What mother-daughter relationship isn't fraught and strained? And here is the thing, despite our history. I love my mom. We're closer now than we've been at any point in my life. How could I still have mommy issues?

About five more seconds of pondering and it was clear as day to me. I have mommy issues because my mom had mommy issues. When I think about it, shit...Grandma had mommy issues. It didn't take long to realize I came from a long line of ladies who had mommy issues. Is this what the kids today refer to as generational trauma? 

I didn't really have a plan other than, use each new moon to set intentions. Something you want to study reflect on. Use the full moon to assess how those intentions were met/not met and reset on the next new moon. Meanwhile, keep up the meditation, keep up the study of whatever was capturing your interest, keep reflecting and wait for the realizations to start bubbling up. Along with this, I was doing some tarot card reading for myself. 

It actually worked. 

What do you mean it worked?

Well. Yesterday I had one of the longest, hottest showers of my life. I used the steam to my advantage and had one of the hardest longest cries I have had in a long time. And then to cap off the shower, I had a hearty laugh. Because a lot of things came tumbling and bubbling to the surface that I had not realized were so deeply lodged in my body and soul. It felt like a spiritual cleansing in that shower too. To cry and sob. Because yeah, on reflection, that was not a cry. It was in my soul, these vocal sobs. They felt wracking to my body, and I felt good when it was done. So good, I laughed. I laughed hard and shook my head. So many lightbulbs had gone off like a salacious press conference. 

I then got out of the shower and immediately told my husband about my crazy revelations. Literally dripping in a towel and saying, "Hey I think I worked through some shit, can I lay it on you?" I felt like I was possibly sounding like an unhinged conspiracy theorist, but the good part about having a good partner is that when you do DIY therapy, and you're dripping in a towel in your living room talking about your messed-up childhood that led to your messed up adult thought processes they accept you. Crazy raccoon eyes and all. 

Me explaining my trauma - just picture a towel, but it looked pretty much just like this

Yet again, I feel it important to stress that you see a professional, but as an aside, if you can find/have a good partner it sure is a nice augment to the crystal in your bra.

You see, the three full moons and the tarot readings weren't about coming to the end of the journey. They were about pulling a roadmap and itinerary together for where I go next. Because unfortunately, this is just the start.

So the revelations. Remember those disclaimers from earlier. This is where they get real.

Trigger Warning #1 - Death of a Child

For those who don't know, I have two older sisters. One is still living. I never met my sister who died. She died before I was born. When she was six years old she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and she died. 

Talk about family trauma. I wasn't even there for it, but it was something you could tangibly feel in my family.

My family never hid that I had another sister from me. Her pictures were around the house and they matter-of-factly told me, "Yeah, you had another sister. She died before you were born."  So, as a kid, when people would ask, "Oh hello little girl, do you have any brothers and sisters?" I would launch into the facts. "Yes. I have two older sisters, but one of them died before I was born."  Even kids can pick up on social cues. I could see people visibly get shocked or sad for me, so I would quickly jump to comfort them. "It's ok though. Someday she'll be resurrected and I'll get to meet her then." 

You see, death isn't complicated as a Jehovah's Witness. They teach that when you die it's like you fall asleep. Someday, after Armageddon and the world is destroyed by God, he'll get to work after all that smiting of evil folks, to set about resurrecting everyone who ever died. He wakes them up. They come back, we greet them with open arms. To grieving parents, that sounds like a pretty good deal. Some day they get their daughter back. So I was just spreading that good news to strangers when I was five. Don't be sad random lady in the grocery store. God has a plan.

Holy crap. I must have been a scary little kid. 

Sadness and grief that big leave a wound. Even if you can't see it. You feel it. Every fall my mom would get really sad. She would have depressive episodes that took her out. I didn't really understand depression just that mom didn't feel good and slept a lot so just leave her alone. 

Despite their openness about the facts of my sister, there were still a lot of mysteries. For example, I had no idea when my sister's birthday is, or when she died. I have visited her grave, but the only dates are the years. I once asked my mom about it and she said she did that on purpose. It's not totally surprising. Jehovah's Witnesses don't celebrate birthdays. I knew it was July something, and I knew she died in the fall because mom's case of depression wasn't just seasonal affective disorder.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do. Sleuth on the internet. I signed up for Ancestry. I knew there wouldn't be any census records or marriage records she was too young, but maybe there was something. I lucked out. My mom's cousin is the family historian and sure enough, on her family tree records. There she was. My little big sister. Born July 20. Died October 3.

She had just started kindergarten. This was her first and only school picture. Her teacher commented to my parents that she tripped and fell down a lot. They blamed it on her new shoes that must just be too big, but as my dad later pointed out, if you look in this picture, the side of her mouth is already drooping. It was about to get worse. They took her to doctors when the whole side of her face drooped and that's when they got the news. The brain tumor was so small they couldn't even see it on X-rays. Probably the size of the head of a pin, but directly on her brainstem. But when they ran ink tests they could see the tiny blockage that was eventually going to kill her, and there was nothing they could do.

Here are some more family revelations that I feel are pertinent. When I got older and figured out math and how long women are pregnant I put it together that my parents got married in late April and my oldest sister was born in mid-September. Oops.

Anecdotally my sister Jennifer was also a surprise to my parents.

After she died they had a choice to make. Do we try to have another? My parents picked my name because it means "Gift from Jehovah" so I knew I was super wanted. My dad often told me that growing up. I once asked my mom, "Do you think you would have had me if Jenny hadn't died?" She didn't say anything. My dad was quick to say, "Sure we would have...probably." My father was always the peace-maker between us.

You see my mom also once told me she never should have had kids. Yeah. It stings, but also, I don't disagree. As a childless 42-year-old, I can relate. I should not have kids. And didn't. I come from a long line of moms who should not have been moms it seems, but more on that later.

Another famous battle cry in my teens from her was, "We don't get along because you're just like me". Oh man! At the time that stung even worse than the, I shouldn't have had kids comment. I was NOTHING like my angry and depressed mother!

Yeah. Or so I thought.

Time. She's a funny thing. Now I think, "shit. she was right. I am SO MY MOTHER'S DAUGHTER!" (The anxiety, depression, and probably the inevitable type 2 beetis most likely all come from her genetic soup too). But also with that comes a lot of sympathy now.  A lot of slack.

Sympathy for a 19-year-old who met a cute dude at the Domino and got pregnant. Who didn't want to be a mom, but made the best of it.  A lot of sympathy for a 24-year old whose father suddenly died of a massive heart attack, while she was the mother of two under the age of 5 and a stay-at-home mom in a tiny town with no social life. I doubt that was on her vision board as a child for where she thought her life would go. So much sympathy for a mom who buried her six-year-old at the age of 29. 

But just the same, in my tumultuous teen years, I often thought of myself as the "replacement child". 

It also just dawned on me. My sister died in October. I was born in September. Seven days after I was born was just the third anniversary of her other daughter's death. Talk about mixed emotions. And every year, around my birthday mom would start getting sad again. It's ok. Jehovah's Witnesses don't celebrate birthdays anyway.

Trigger warning #2 - Suicidal Thoughts

I vaguely remember when I first figured out what suicide was. I was probably seven.

Seven was a rough year for me. I hated my third-grade teacher. I quit dance and I must have been a crab-ass. I remember my mom telling me I needed an attitude adjustment. So she bought me some motivational message pencils that said, "Attitude is everything". That'll solve it.

It didn't.

Jehovah's Witnesses have an epidemic of suicide in their ranks. Not surprising when all the teachings of the faith boil down to; you are imperfect. You'll never be enough, and if you fuck up, we'll cut you off and never speak to you again. Good luck.

I remember hearing about a kid in a neighboring congregation who killed himself. The community is pretty small and everyone knows everyone. Even if you're not friends, you probably know the family name and know who they are. I remember adults talking about so-and-so from that congregation. How he took a hose taped it to the tailpipe of his car and put it in the car with him and fell asleep.

I was seven I didn't quite understand the mechanics of it, just that he fell asleep. And I remember thinking. Yeah. That's not so bad. You die, you fall asleep anyway according to their teachings. And that's when I learned the loophole. If you kill yourself, God doesn't resurrect you.

So at seven, I distinctly remember thinking I wanted to just sleep forever. I remember writing in my tiny cloud-covered journal with a tiny little gold combination lock on it that I wished I was dead, and if that made Jehovah mad, I was ok with him not resurrecting me.

I was seven.

That would be just the first time I had suicidal thoughts, but they would not be my last. They dogged me a lot through my teen years.

I had long since buried some of these thoughts and it wasn't until this recent shower that the word "Replacement" flashed in my brain. I had forgotten how deeply I identified with that word. That feeling of what my role was in the family.

I remember thinking, often, that I was the replacement child. Every time I was a disappointment, or I fought with my parents I remember thinking, why couldn't Jenny have lived? Then I wouldn't even have to be here, or it should have been me. They'd be happier with her.

It's hard to compete with the ghost of a six-year-old. She will always be an adorable blonde with pigtails. Who was not only precious but precocious and funny and who loved the Wizard of Oz. She'll never grow up and be the bitchy sad teen who doesn't clean her room. She'll never slam the door in her mother's face and scream "I hate you!"

She'll never leave the religion you raised her in and forsake your God. The God that promises resurrection for your dead child. The child you'll finally get to know. The God you thanked for your replacement child, that you named her for; Gift from Jehovah.

Trigger Warning #3 - Religious Trauma

Seriously if you made it through those first two, this one is probably going to feel pretty tame, but nonetheless...

I am not a Jehovah's Witness anymore. I'm not an atheist either because frankly being a fundamentalist Christian made me have to double down and be certain about things I was never all that certain about in the back of my head, and I don't think I'll ever have that much conviction about something ever again.

The closest I can relate to is Pantheism. The idea of nature is God.

"God not behind nature, but as nature, equivalent to it."  

"denying the superiority of humans over nature and seeing the source of man's salvation in nature."

It's likely Sagan, Einstien, Tesla, Emerson, Thoreau, Rumi, WEB Du Bois, and even Carl Jung would have identified with the idea of God as Spinoza spoke about. I bring up Jung because lots of people like to interpret tarot with the Jungian Archetypes. Me. I would be one of those people.

The thing about Jehovah's Witnesses is they say everything is Pagan. So I am pretty sure this re-awaking Pagan in me has a lot to do with my inner teen who says, "Oh this is 'bad'? Then I better check it out, because you people lied about some shit, so let me check the footnotes myself."

I own it.

Can't celebrate Christmas. It's pagan. Can't celebrate Easter. It's pagan. Halloween, SUPER PAGAN, and ghosts and witches are so mega verboten! Devil stuff! The worst holiday of all is Halloween! Birthdays - well, those you can't have because John the Baptist got beheaded at a birthday party, and so that's why you can't have a birthday. Yeah. Try explaining that to your schoolmates whose mom is just trying to give you a cupcake to be nice.

Yup. I for sure was the spooky kid now that I think about it.

The hardest part about this religion is the guilt. You see, my parents can never leave. Who is going to greet Jenny when she wakes up? Certainly not her two sisters. They're non-believers. They died in Armageddon. 

When I forsake their religion, I forsake the chance at us all being a family together. That's a lot to carry. That's a heavy sadness for my parents.  However, it's not a story I believe in anymore, but I understand why they do.

Now what?

I still have some stuff to work through. Obviously. If I need to, I will seek a professional. So far, I am ok. Honestly, the main thing I am getting out of this shadow work stuff is just empathy. Empathy for those who hurt me, because they were hurting too. Empathy for myself because I have not been kind to me. Empathy for humanity because shit, we've all got our burdens to carry, our wounds to heal. The most helpful thing I've learned recently is, none of us are ok. So have some empathy?

We're doing our best. Sometimes our best is following a religion that hurts more than it helps. Sometimes our best is stuffing a crystal in our bra after having a good cry in the shower. Wondering what your sister would have been like. Would she have left the religion too? Or would she have stayed and still been the good one? Sometimes your parents do their best. And they still have a relationship with you even though their religion says they aren't supposed to because you're "Bad association". But they have a relationship with you anyway because you're all that's left. You are the replacement child.

If she hadn't died, would they be having a relationship with you at all right now?

A big part of this journey I am on feels like I need to work on healing the mommy drama. I plan on blogging about that more. I cannot stress enough how much better my relationship with my mom is now. Like I said, it's the best our relationship has ever been. I think if she had any idea how bad it was when I was little she would be horrified. And so hurt. I doubt I will tell her. I don't know that sharing that with her helps anything. It doesn't unburden me. I don't need her to know how hurt I was. The hurt is not important to me anymore. It's been so long. It's the healing I am interested in.

Women sure do know how to be mean to women. We are masters at playing head games, and mothers and daughters play some of the meanest games of all. I'd rather not.

It's interesting. When I said I come from a long line of women who shouldn't be mothers, it's true. My mom's mom (V) - who I loved so much, was a tough cookie. She was dealing with her own mental health struggles for sure. I interviewed her several years before she died. Just to record some of her life stories. I asked her what was the one feeling she remembered most from her childhood, thinking she'd say laughter - or who knows what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what she said which was, "Being scared." Talk about a gut punch. That's not what I expected, but it made so much sense. 

She also had not so great an opinion of her mother. I wish I had gotten into that more with her. My great-grandmother (F) died in 1971. V's mom. Just 3 months after her husband died, my grandfather. My grandmother was 55 when he died. Talk about trauma. 

My great-grandmother (F) is a bit of a mystery to me. I don't recall many pictures of her around. I know there are some, but nothing prominently displayed. Part of signing up with Ancestry was to try to learn more about her. Maybe try to get some empathy for this woman who was not so well regarded by her daughter. I was trying to pinpoint where she came from. She's French-Canadian, but I was trying to hop back to France but I didn't make it. You see I can find F's mother, and her mother, but when I try to jump back further I get a giant question mark for her mother. I know her father, but the mother is literally unknown.  So here is the line-up: 

Me > Mom  > V  >  F  >  M.E  > A  >   ?

I looked back and found her death certificate.

It's odd to me that the father is known and the mother isn't. What happened here? Was it something sad and tragic? Or something more common? She just hated her mom and never spoke of her to her children, and thus they didn't know what to put on the death certificate?

Also, there is that goddamn diabetes again. 

And that's what made me laugh so hard in the shower. My spidey sense that what's wrong with me goes back along the long line of moms who didn't enjoy motherhood. Thanks, Universe. Could you be a little less obvious next time? 

I might try to find Adeline's mom. Or it might not matter. These people are all super long dead. Does it matter? The tide of pain happened. The why doesn't matter anymore. Just heal and try to move on. Maybe old ghosts just need to stay ghosts.

So Jo, what was the point of this post? It's kind of a real bummer.

It's not really a bummer though. Getting all this out, I feel ten pounds lighter. My shits to give getting lighter and lighter all the time.

Here is why I am posting this on my woo-woo spicy psychology blog, because I did a tarot reading on my birthday. After three full moons and doing some more meditating on the important people in my life I had come up with a method for my tarot reading.

For me tarot is about noticing patterns. In the cards, and in your own life. Using the stories in the pretty little pictures to help relate something to what is going on with you. I rarely do readings for myself because I don't like to. I never have specific questions, and I hate drawing cards. I think it's the libra in me who hates to make a decision. So I decided to let the cards pick my cards.

Every zodiac sign has a corresponding tarot card. Libra for example is represented by Justice. The scales and all that. Makes sense. So I took my deck and shuffled in justice. then I went and looked for it. Whatever card was underneath it...that was the message I needed to hear.

I don't know what happens to us when we die. I was raised to believe nothing. You fall asleep, but then one day God wakes you up. I don't think that the second part happens now. I do still think you just fall asleep. I don't know that I think we float around and still exist. It'd be cool if we did, but I am doubtful at this point. My grandmother and sister are both Cancers. Someday I will write a joke about, "My sister died of her zodiac sign", but it still needs work. Cancer relates to the Chariot. So I repeated and drew a card. Taking it as a message from my ancestors.

My sister who is still alive is a hermit. Not literally, that's her card, and my mom is Temperance. Even though I know she would not approve, I wanted a card from her anyway. 

My husband and father are Capricorn and that corresponds to the Devil which is hilarious for so many reasons to me, so I made sure "they" found me a card for my birthday too. So here is how the spread went down.

The first card I pulled was behind Justice. It was the Fool. I take this to be how I see myself. The fool. Yup. Pretty on the nose. To me the fool is all about starting out. Being care-free. To me this symbolizes I am just starting this dumb journey into myself...again. But with hope.

The Chariot chose the Hanged Man - but reversed. Which is so interesting, because normally this card should be upright, and she would be upside down, but now she's just leaning on a tree, like, "What? - No bigs!" To me the hanged man is all about new perspectives and need to do things differently now.

This next one is HILARIOUS! So I went searching for the Hermit, to find the card under her, (My sister) and low and behold the card was temperance. I had to laugh. That's my mom's card. So my sister wants me to fix my shit with mom. Fair. And the card under Temperance was the Tower reversed. I literally could not stop laughing. Jehovah's Witnesses' main publication is called the Watchtower. I mean jeez tarot...a little too literal here. The reverse meaning is: 

"Although you may feel not very sure about where your path is heading, the Tower reversed indicates that there's “nowhere to go but up.” This card position often feels like a hurricane just ran through your life, and now you are charged with the duty to clean it all up." 

Yup.|

My Capricorn's message to me was the moon reversed. Well, this...this right here. This gives me hope. That whatever my foolish path might be, I should keep walking it:

The Moon reversed indicates that you have been dealing with illusion, fears and anxiety, and now the negative influences of these energies are subsiding. You are working through your fears and anxieties, understanding the impact they have on your life and how you can free yourself from such limiting beliefs. This is a truly liberating and transformational experience.

You may try to bury these feelings even deeper within your subconscious so you can avoid your dark shadows. You may not be ready to face your emotions, pushing them to the side and pretending as if nothing is wrong. This strategy might work in the short-term, but eventually, you will need to resurface these emotions and deal with them head-on.

The Moon reversed can also show that you are receiving intuitive messages and psychic downloads but are struggling to understand what they mean for you. The message may be confusing, or your interpretation differs from what you read elsewhere. When the Moon is reversed, you are being called to listen to your inner voice, and not the voice of someone else. Trust that the answers you need are already within you, and tune in to your inner guidance system to hear those answers.

Ok Tarot.

I hope to blog more about my shit. But this was a pretty good start. If you hung with me this long. Thank you. You've now seen more of me than most people have. Sorry I'm such a spooky kid, but I came by it honestly.