Chapter 1: The Influence of Childhood

As a young child, I looked up to my father as my ultimate role model. Alongside my desire to make my mother proud, I craved my father's approval. His behaviors often influenced mine; when he swore, I mimicked him whenever my mother wasn't around. My first word, "Mamma," was documented in the baby book my mother kept, which served as a guiding light during the challenges of my early life.

During solitary moments in our trailer, I would retrieve that cherished book from its hiding spot. It meant a great deal to my father as well. Once I learned to read, I would revisit it, finding solace in the words that echoed my mother's voice. She passed away when I was five, leaving a void where my love for her and my family once thrived. That baby book has been my constant companion through trials like homelessness, addiction, and despair; it remains a symbol of hope for me today.

After my mother’s death, I began to understand my father more deeply. My initial admiration for him began to fade as I witnessed his anger and reckless behavior. My mother had shielded me from his outbursts, likely to protect both of us. She knew I possessed the ability to penetrate the barriers around his heart.

My father struggled with alcoholism, violence, narcissism, and sexual abuse, but beneath it all, he was a terrified man. It took me years to shift my perspective from seeing him as a powerful figure to recognizing his deep-seated fear of being unloved, which often manifested as anger.

I inadvertently mirrored some of his traits, though fortunately not all. I could never be violent; anger itself scared me. I grew up believing that anger equated to pain, so I internalized my emotions instead.

This narrative isn't merely a recounting of darkness; it's fundamentally a story of love. Despite the turmoil and pain caused by my father, I always felt his love—he just struggled to express it. I now realize that his rage stemmed from an inability to give or receive love.

To elaborate, I describe my father as suffering from "Love Paralysis." His fear of love rendered him incapable of expressing or experiencing it, leaving him trapped in anger, the only emotion where he felt secure.

Through all the chaos, my sisters and I still loved our father deeply. Ironically, what hurt the most was that he never expressed pride in me; he only spoke of love when he was intoxicated or seeking something, never admitting to his wrongdoings.

At age twenty-six, I discovered twelve-step programs, which helped me break away from my father's toxic legacy regarding substance abuse. However, the fear of love remained ingrained in me.

The difference was my mother. Her love, though limited to my early years, provided me with the strength to endure the hardships that followed. She instilled in me a hope for love, even when I struggled to find hope in other areas of my life.

In stark contrast, my father never had anyone who left him with the belief that love could be genuine. He lacked the ability to hope for the love of his own children.

Guided by mentors in my meetings, I learned about love through their support. As they became aware of my background, many suggested I seek additional help through counseling. This marked the beginning of my healing journey, igniting a series of miraculous transformations.

My first miracle was the emergence of trust. For the first time, I believed that these men genuinely cared for me.

After three years of twelve-step work, I was introduced to A Course in Miracles, which accelerated my healing journey. My perspective shifted dramatically, as I let go of old beliefs that had caused me suffering.

I had been conditioned to fear God, even though God is love. I began to entertain the notion that perhaps even God could love me.

Through ACIM, I explored unconventional healing methods that expanded my understanding of forgiveness and love. I volunteered at a spiritual retreat in the mountains for six months, eager to experience personal growth.

During one intensive workshop, I was encouraged to reenact a childhood scene with my father. The beauty of this process lies in the ability to relive past experiences and then create a new, more positive outcome.

After one particularly emotional reenactment, the group leader gently pointed out that my anger stemmed from my father’s inability to accept love. All I had ever wanted was to love him. His words resonated deeply within me.

In another reenactment, an elder I admired played my father's role. Initially reluctant, he ultimately agreed and found himself moved to tears, realizing that even in our struggles, love existed.

At some point, my healing journey led me back to live with my father in the very trailer of my childhood—a daunting experience that revived countless memories. To cope, I sought refuge within my twelve-step community and began teaching ACIM classes.

One evening, while preparing for a class, my father unexpectedly entered the room. He expressed pride in my life changes and acknowledged that he had never properly conveyed his love for me, except when under the influence. As he turned to leave, he paused, tears rolling down his face, and offered a heartfelt apology for not being the father I deserved. In that moment, it felt as though every grievance was washed away.

Today, I like to envision that my family and I made a pact many lifetimes ago to reunite and explore the transformative power of love and forgiveness, each playing our part in this journey.

I hold a special place in my heart for all the pain we endured, as it has shaped my commitment to helping others discover love.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. May our paths cross again.

Explore the theme of love in the context of healing, as seen in this episode from TLC's "A Wedding Story."

Listen to Sheryl Crow’s poignant take on love and its healing power in this heartfelt performance.