When Your Family Denies Your Experience When I look back at my family story - with mom, dad, 2 sisters, a brother - and a slew of nieces and nephews, I’m struck by one strange afterthought: Everyone was permitted their personal experience without denial, pushback, guilt, or blame - except for me. Strange times they were. My oldest sister was a prostitute hell-bent on drama, rage, and death. She once asked me to give her my social security number so she could give it to her lover and co-murderer Scott - so he could construct a false identity and make it across the Canadian border. I declined - not because it was obvious to me to decline at the time, but it just didn’t feel right. It could have gone either way because, at that point, I had barely sensed the trauma I experienced as a child. Turns out, she had angrily molested me when I was a little boy. It can take years for the imagery to make itself known. My other sister was a Catholic quasi-nun turned new-age herbalist turned Hindu-Buddhist who hit some hard times with my bipolar father, wine-slugging Mom, and dick, bible-thumping boyfriend Fred. By the time I was 10, she had been abused endlessly by my father - and raped twice. My brother was working for the phone company and the mob. I remember the day he came home pale as a ghost. Apparently, he was forced to take a train to Florida and deliver a briefcase with questionable contents, which was handcuffed to him for the journey. How do you land in such a position? Maybe it was because he was emotionally and psychologically abused by my father for years. My mom and new-age sister left me with my bipolar father when I was 14 - to live with my prostitute sister in New Mexico. I was angry for quite some time. Nobody wanted to hear it. I was clueless of the implications and ramifications of it all - with a dangerous level of vulnerability. I loved my siblings - even idolized them. They were fun with incredible senses of humor. Being around them was often very exciting - even though they were often either depressed, addicted, suicidal. I demonstrated all of those aspects throughout my life, until I hit my 40s when my identity simply felt worn out. I was not only tired of trying to subtly receive validation from everyone for what I experienced, I was exhausted from being the person who would live that way - who would be seeking validation from anyone at any time. I mean, why would I need anyone to validate what I experienced. Fuck ‘em. By the time I was 50, I was ready to exit this twisted framework and I simply said goodbye to all of it - and everyone in it. During that time, I was auditioning girlfriends who did not resemble my prior frameworks in any way. After interviewing over 25 women with intense questions and confronting scrutiny, all solely through texting within a dating app, I found I was only interested in going on a date with one of those women. My research was so thorough, that was it. I was born again - and my new life was immediately phenomenal. This new partnership and life gave me the chance to rethink all of my relationships, perceptions, beliefs, attachments, experiences, unprocessed emotions, and lenss. And while some aspects continued to infect me for several years, they all eventually dissolved. There was no longer a guilting or raping sister. There was no longer the brother I cherished who did not cherish me. There was no longer the needy, dishonest, or suicidal nieces and nephews. There weren’t any pets, partners, or addictions. It was all dissolving beautifully. My construct did not resolve there. In fact, it became more conflicted, confused, and painful. My sense of self - along with my health - further collapsed upon the second dose of the Covid vaccine, upon which I landed in the emergency room and had migraines for 10 hours a day. During this time, I lost all sense of myself, crying for up to 6 hours a day, sometimes convulsing, and other times bracing myself on all fours - to allow the tears to flow fully from my ancestrally compressed organs out into the ether. I was a physical and emotional mess for quite some time. And I let go of all of it. After 4 years of physical and emotional pain and release, and after over 40,000 herbal and healing non-pharmaceutical pills, all of which were completely natural and non-addictive, my body began to heal. I gained energy and clarity. I had peace of mind, body, and heart. Somehow the vaccine triggered a complete breakdown on every level, the darkness of which I chose to directly confront and heal. My illumination had nothing to do with religion - it emerged because I simply let go of everything that was not right and not the light. And now I’m clear, healing the final broken remnants of my spleen and liver, and emerging as quite a peaceful lover and helpful healer. I am barely attached to anything. I love my wife, my home, and clients - and I work every day to gain deeper clarity on everything that emerges. I use ai chats to release false narratives. I deepen my understanding of what herbs can do for specific issues. And I work on admitting and dissolving the tiny fragments of triggers and projections left in the lurch. At 60, going forward, I will remain peaceful and unattached. I will continue to love from the place of a healer - not a romantic. I will see all perceptions, perspectives, and beliefs from a place of wonder, rather than judgment. This frees me to be present to all of it, no matter what it is. And now that I am no longer someone who believes everything that is warm, pretty, and shiny, I can no longer be manipulated. I live a sovereign life now. I’m awake and aware, but not woke. I do not swing left or right - and I see all of it as a play meant for others. I play my part, but even that feels like the shimmering breath emanating from mammals on a cold winter’s night.