This is my friend Sari. She does wonderful, healing work as an occupational therapist. If you live in Arizona, you must come and see her. And if you are from out of state, seriously consider a visit, she is more than worth the trip. For more information visit www.Sarihands.com or give her a call at 480-998-8448.
Sari was gracious enough to provide me with a part of her abandonment story.
My grandmother, Sarah was in the hospital. My 22 year old mother was visiting her,when she instructed my mom, ‘Go home and make a baby and name her after me’. In Jewish tradition, a child isn’t named after someone who is living, so, my mom knew that her mom would live for less than a year.
Before I was born, my grandmother died. My mom was despondent and overwhelmed.
How could her mom abandon her with two young children?
My mom told me the story many times, saying, ‘I went home and your father showed me love the only way men know how, and you were conceived.’
I was named Sari, after Grandma Sarah and her nickname, Sally. Although I was the younger child, as the namesake, I was born feeling the loss of my grandmother and the responsibility of ‘taking care’ of my mom. Hadn’t Grandma Sarah abandoned me, too?
I tried to ‘do my part’ through an easy delivery, self-soothing infancy, followed by a childhood and life trying to please and fill the gap of a mother lost to a woman so young.
Fortunately, both my mother and I learned that men can show love in other ways, but that’s another story!
Thank you for sharing your story, Sari. Abandonment can be rooted in early happenings in our life. And it can take time to get beyond this. And as far as love, I hope that I am able to show this in many ways to those who matter to me. You’re reminding me that I need to make sure that those around me know how I feel about them, that I value them, that they are important – always.
Family roles that we are given as children can follow us throughout our lives until we learn to heal that part of ourselves. I grew up as a child who protected my mother so that she wouldn’t have to feel her own pain. In the process, I learned to stuff and numb my own emotional pain for many years. For my troubles, I earned stomach aches and head aches until I learned that I could stop carrying my mother’s pain and I could learn to feel my own pain and joy. What happens when you stuff the bad is that you also stuff and numb the good feelings. Now I feel it all and that is a blessing.