This year's reincarnation day was extraordinary. I couldn't convince my dad to have a joint with me but he watched me smoking some for the first time, I introduced him to my cannababies and not only did we talk ganja. No. This year, my best gift was a big psychological breakthrough and today I feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes. But first, I needed to take a seat in a rollercoaster that swirled my guts. A birthday, a court case, a session with a therapist and lots and lots of truth.
Day One – Reincarnation Day
|Look at her face. For days I was excited like a little girl. It was the first time in years, my father visited me. It was the first time since my childhood he spent my day with me, the first time we met without his wife, the first time he saw me smoking, first time for him to see a shrink with me, primary this, premiere that …|
It felt like in the old days when dad got back from one of his business trips. The relationship with my mother has been poor since I got born, I was daddy's girl for most of my life … and he was off working or traveling for most of his life. The birthday gift I gave myself was that I arranged an appointment with a therapist to finally tell my father what he seemingly missed back then. That I have been abused as a child and to ask him whether he knows about it. And it was more than eye-opening, it opened up my mind and my heart eventually. And even my old daddy's heart seemed to open up a little more than regularly.
There were so many things I wanted to get off my chest. Combined with my inner child's enthusiasm about my father's arrival this made me a bubbly little squirrel, running 'round my father, elaborating my life. I picked him up at the station and couldn't wait to get back home to smoke the first joint in front of him. And as soon as he sat on my terrace, I got out my camera, a tripod –
… and my rolling equipment.
|See? Problem is squirrel-me was too excited to get her act together. I totally forget to take the picture I was hunting for. In this pic you see no joint, no weed, no equipment, … Well …|
|The universe and a grumpy Berlin waiter took care of it and gave me something even better. My father in a German Biergarten promoting 4/20. Hang on …|
"First thing I want you to know, Papa, is that I am smoking weed for the longest time of my life."
"So, your brother was right."
"If he said so, yes …"
"He did. It's one of the reasons he's mad about you."
"Ok. I won't speak for him. Only thing I'm gonna’ say is: He was the one to introduce me to it. But while we're at it, Papa. There's something else I want to talk about. I feel like there are some old cycles going on in our family that make people think and say they're mad about someone for the wrong reasons …"
He didn't want to share the joint with me but he shared stories I had never heard about and we got deep into our family's history. I asked him if he knew why I would hate my mother's father all my life. If he could tell me how he had treated my mum. On day one my father acted as if there wasn't anything to talk about. It took him two days to finally tell me what had happened.
This day, however, I convinced him that smoking weed wouldn't make me act differently, simply more relaxed and how it has been my medicine to cope with this family we had just talked about. He understood and we went to have dinner in a beer garden.
My neighbors gave me 37 drags of magic and a choice: "You can still be sweet 36 if you want to."
I don't know how much you know about Berlin Service?! It is infamous for being a mess. Most places are self-service, grumpy Berlin citizens taking your order with this slight undertone of "Oh, you think you're special?!" Don't expect to be treated respectfully. In this case, the grouchy waiter made an exception and put a big smile on my face. After we had ordered, he gave us this little thing that starts vibrating, peeping and glowing as soon as your meal is ready. I noticed the number 36 on it. On my 37th birthday when I had told everyone how much I love the number 36 and would have rather turn 39 than 37. Thanks, universe. I got it!
I asked him if they happen to have 420 of those blinking things. He looked at me puzzled. I explained that I wanted to take part in a competition on smoke.io where you have to share a picture of the number 420 (by @psyceratopsb). He gave me the Berlin-waiter-look and I said it's fine. Asking for the number is against the rules, anyway …
When number 36 started making noise I went to get our food. The waiter handed me my father's plate with a smirk on his face.
I told my father it's my lucky day and that I needed to get a ticket for the lottery. After dinner, we went to buy a scratch card for the lottery and I won 106 Euro. : ) We ended day one by preparing for day two.
Day Two – Court Case
I am not gonna’ go into detail since it's an ongoing case, let's just say the following: It was perfect to show my father more about my life and how I have to fight against the "justice system" all the time which finally got us into talking more about our family's history. I always knew about my grand-uncle who died in a KZ, what I didn't know was that my grand-dad survived the same crap. The one who got away had never been talked about. Guilt, shame, and fear kept my family from being happy about a family member surviving while the other had to die. But it wasn't until day 3 that I learned something about my family that would turn my whole life around.
Day Three – Therapy
I was beating about the bush for an hour until the therapist tricked me into open up. She asked my dad about his childhood and uncovered a few of his traumas in just a few minutes. I really love this woman! I have been to plenty mediations with her for she's quick and accurate in her analyses and keeps focused on solutions. She told him that he would have dissociated when being a kid because a particular situation was just too much to handle. She knew that this would get me started and it did.
Tears were streaming down my face when I said: "Alright, Papa. That's what I did. I dissociated when I got abused. Do you know that I got abused?"
He said that he had no idea. I told him about flashbacks I am having for two years now and asked questions about some people and places from my memory. He couldn't help me with that. But he finally said the following:
"When your mother was around your age she figured that her father had abused her as a child."
It was the first time I heard about it. That my mother went through the same torture I have. On day one I had told him about repeating cycles in our family, on day two we literally saw cycles repeating and day three we finally dared to speak it out: There's a cycle of sexual child abuse going on in our family.
There are more cycles we talked about. It was the realest talk we ever had. We mentioned all the cycles. Feelings of lacking love and respect, feelings of guilt and shame, the never-ending feeling of injustice …
I forgave my mother last year after we hadn't talked for over ten years. Long story. I had no reason to forgive her other than just the need to do it. I wanted to have my peace. Now that I found out about her pain and what she is suppressing I finally have my reason. Now, I want to reach out again and ask her about it. Courageously breaking all those cycles and tell her that I finally understand why she treated me the way she did. That I have always been a threat to this family for I was asking too many questions.
I don't know what other people use their thc and cbd for. I am using it to support my healing. Thanks for listening. It's my party and I cry if I want to!