I think the greatest gift my mother gave me was to not see me To not project her own dogma Or societal norms onto me
Nameless, invisable, she allowed me to flounder or flourish as my spirit explored the world
I was allowed to be fluid Not defined and shackled by some DSM label Not burdened by a diagnosis-- Or a check mark in a special box
Mom believed in self-fulfilling prophecy So she kept her mouth shut And she had very little respect for white society So she wasn't placing her babies in their hands Years later I can look back and ask hmmm? Were we neglected? Abused? On the spectrum? However, I never felt unloved Or unprotected And really enjoyed being a spirit child-- Testing my wings against the elements Ah, freedom
My spirit did build a weak social ego It served me well for a number of years Through school and career But being a spirit child The mask couldn't last forever
Later, awakening to my true self Was probably easier for me than most With a strong spirit, weak ego I had fewer veils to remove
Oh sure I can find snippets of me In some psych textbook--big deal Ego is always looking For a new cloak to glom onto While spirit Quietly and consistently Waters the flowers.
barb j beyers 