my mamama has been moving through me all year, gently for the most part, but at times aggressively, sometimes painfully.
during her illness, my mom constantly asked me to have a baby. she tried to make me feel guilty by saying “i’m going to die without a grandchild from you”. i once told her she had to stop asking me to change my life so drastically only to give her the pleasure of meeting a child birthed by me. she eventually stopped.
during this time my curiosity about my grandma surfaced in a way it never had before. she passed away when ma was 21 years old, 18 years before ma gave birth to me and my twin. i sensed my mom’s transition nearing, and with that the possibility of never knowing about her mother. my body urged me to ask. one day i woke up sobbing at the thought of Josefina. i was immensely sad that my mom never talked about her other than in the context of how terrible and abusive my grandfather was as a husband and father. i was upset that days prior i’d learned through photos that felt were kept secret that Josefina was black. i called my ma who answered and was worried about my sobbing. when i told her what and how i was feeling she promised to tell me about Josefina. and she did on many occasions after that. she told me how close she was to her mother and that she kept quiet about her because the most pain she ever endured was what came with her passing. i then understood that ma never allowed herself to process that pain, to really grief her mother, and instead she pushed it aside with work, an unhealthy and abusive marriage, and the raising of five children. it was beautiful to watch her allow herself to open up. it was as healing for her to tell me these stories as it was for me to learn about them, even when much of it was about Josefina’s pain. this process also led me to understand ma’s fear of dying without meeting my offspring. her fear of not being known about, remembered.
on the hospital bed, while in a coma and a few hours before she passed away, i promised ma that if one day i decide to have children, that they would grow up knowing her. that i would speak to them about her, as well as about pa. that i’d even tell them about mama Josefina. that i wouldn’t keep quiet about them, because they wouldn’t be if not for them. and that if i didn’t have children, those who surround me and who are part of my life would know her. because it’s impossible to be who i am if not for her. of all the hours in a coma that was the only thing that she responded to, shaking her head and her shoulders, almost like she was fighting what i was saying. i gently brushed her shoulders, kissed her, and said the words she’d say to me whenever i called her worried or anxious about something: mi amor, todo va a estar bien.
this past summer i had an experience with someone who i've now understood as a person who appeared in my life to challenge my relationship to grief. i practiced Sourcepoint on this person, and while holding emergence for the midline i got dizzy, experienced chills and felt like i was about to pass out. this session left me weak, and in lots of physical pain for almost a month. i thought i was pregnant. missed period, constantly nauseated and burping, tender breasts, bloated, restless. my body felt heavy, not mine. i kept thinking of my mom. i wondered if she’d be happy if i was pregnant. i doubted that she would be, as the circumstances would be “wrong” in her mind. just thoughts. either way, i didn’t want to be pregnant.
i spoke to Owyn about the incident. she reminded me of the importance of doing guardian points on yourself before practicing on people, and suggested I see Damian for a Sourcepoint session/extraction.
guardian points: visions of ovals within ovals. the middle one, yellow. brought to mind a Pinaree Sanpitak’s The Egg. being reminded of my womb, empty. empty of an embryo, not of energy or possibility. or is it full? am i pregnant?
arms heavy at this point, they moved to my solar plexus and rested there, the right over the left, corpse pose in a casket, my mom in her casket. her face not as it was when i saw her in her casket a day before cremation, but rather plump and bright, peacefully asleep. my body, her body. her body, my body. visions of her/me entering the cremator, our body slowly dissolving in the fire. many tears, much release. lots of energy stuck and needing to come out from my chest,. hands went up to my face, outer part of thumbs pressed my eyes. deep blackness. brought back to the moment in january when i thought i was dead. this time there was no fear. i’m not dead. and she isn’t either. her body, that’s no more, but that was just a container. the blackness continued, and suddenly, ivory blobs. embryos? past? present? future? all? i wept, i took deep breaths. energy moving upward, left ovary in pain, abdomen in pain. wiped my eyes. opened them. Damian asked what i was experiencing. “my mom keeps coming up”. his hand landed at the bottom of my sternum. energy settled and started moving downward. he said he was performing the extraction when all that about my mom emerged. and noted that his mom called him at that moment.
post-extraction blockage scan: suddenly, i felt a thick needle puncture right below the bottom of my sternum, and almost immediately Damian’s two fingers held a point exactly there. the same sensation when i’m hyper-anxious, needing to release through burps, but feeling like they are stuck. that sensation is now very familiar, and i know it’s energy that needs to be released.
i felt physically worse for half a week after this session. the most intense burps of my life continued for two weeks. almost a month later, the fellowship started with our first weekend together at Succurro. i received a Sourcepoint session from Owyn, and this was the first time that ma’s energy was not present, instead pa’s was. a light and peaceful type of energy. on the drive back home from Succurro, I wrote the following:
not the usual
not my baby
pregnant with mamama
processing what she didn’t allow herself to process
and that which moves through me strongly.
the trauma, the pain, the abuse,
the lack of sexual freedom/pleasure.
(mamama: ma and her ma and her ma…)
in acceptance of death, welcoming all that must emerge.