Bronte’s Inferno (Part II)

(Continued from Bronte’s Inferno – Part I)

Accidental Medium PostFast Forward One Month.
Bronte is still integrating the knowledge that past life karma continues to play itself out in this life between her and the loved ones in her world.  I invite her and Tom over for dinner to see how it’s going. Little did I know that unfinished business from this life will present itself tonight.

“Uncle Tom” is roughhousing with the girls, doing their favorite most shriek-filled game. We have footprints above our heads thanks to Tom taking turns with the girls, walking them upside down on the ceiling.

Over the din, I hear that Bronte is embroiled in another family drama.  Sister stuff this time.  Bronte’s feeling as though she’s expected to step up and take care of things when she’s in no frame of mind, or position to do so.  I remind Bronte that families are there to teach us, and this is a test.

“Boundaries, baby, boundaries,” I tell her.  I know all too well that Pisces have boundary issues.  (But it’s also probably why I am such a clear channel – I easily cross the boundary between this and the other side).

Bronte goes into the details of her sister issue.
I see Bronte’s Mom come in behind her as she explains her immediate predicament with Sis.  Suddenly Bronte rockets out on another trajectory. She’s now talking about her family situation long ago, the sister issue suddenly left in the dust.

Bronte recalls caring for her second baby, her first child just out of diapers. As many Mom’s do, especially in the 80’s, Bronte went straight back to work. Marital problems were burbling in the background. The family bank account seemed to have a mysterious leak in it. They’d moved into her in-laws home to stem the flow and get the daily support of extended family. She knew her marriage was fraying at the seams but Bronte doggedly kept moving forward. Exhaustion, work and babies made it easier to ignore the signs.

“The last and only time I had one-on-one time with my Mum happened when she came to visit me when Trisha was a baby. It was about a year before Mum died. With all the kids in our family, I never got to be with Mum alone, in my whole life it seems, so this was really special. Having Mum all to myself. But I was so busy, so much going on. And it wasn’t long before Mum started asking for my brother who lived in the same city”.

Bronte continues, “At first, I kind of ignored it, telling Mum, her son was being the usual self-centered male, blissfully sowing his oats with total disregard for the rest of us.  But then Mum started getting really persistent and wanted to know when he was coming to see her.  I was getting really pissed off at my brother. Where the heck was he? Selfish son-of-a. Why didn’t he bother to return my calls? Show up?  Urrrgggghhhh.”

It’s at about this point, Bronte’s Mom starts shaking her head.
I’m not sure what that’s all about. I don’t say anything to Bronte – that her Mom is standing by her chair. I know any small interruption will shut Bronte down and we won’t get to the bottom of this.

Now Bronte is really getting agitated, thinking about the whole (past) situation. “I finally tracked down my brother and told him to get his behind over here and take over with Mum. She was so obviously bored here and wanted to be with him more than me. When my brother showed up at the door, my Mum was all ready to go.  As she’s leaving she says to my brother “TAKE ME OUT OF HERE, PLEASE!”

Bronte’s Mom is now shaking her head frantically. From her reaction to her daughter’s words, it’s apparent that this is not what happened at all.

Bronte is shaking her own head. “And that’s when I knew. That I really didn’t have any value.  My husband… and now even my Mum…And that’s when I started drinking. Seriously.’  Her words break into a deep, painful, breathless sob.

In all our times together, all the secrets and hurts she and I have shared, I have never seen Bronte cry. Not once. This is cathartic.

Bronte’s Mom looks at me pleadingly, “DO SOMETHING!!!”
So I leap out my chair, slip around the end of the dinner table and hold a sobbing Bronte in my arms. She’s a dead weight. A drippy dead weight.  The pain is pouring out of her and all over me, both energetically and hydrologic-ally. I look at Bronte’s Mom over her shoulder. She’s telling me telepathically what to do – To fill in for what she did when Bronte was a little girl in distress. I rub Bronte’s back in a big circle. I hold her tight, rock her gently, and soothe her with words. “It’s okay…”

Finally I whisper through my own tears, “That’s NOT what happened, Bronte.” Your Mom is here. She’s telling me that’s not what happened. It’s in your head. She was there because she knew it was bad. She wanted to help, but you cut her out. You didn’t want to talk, or confide in her. You were so busy. No time for her. And she was there for you – to lessen your load. She was so concerned about you. She KNEW your marriage was falling apart. She’s your Mother! She loved you! She loves you now!”

Bronte is gasping between sobs. Bronte’s Mom is now telling Bronte “I LOVE you Bronte. I would never ever do anything to hurt you. I LOVE your feistiness. I should have been more feisty. I am so glad you’re hearing the truth. You know it’s the truth.  It will help you with your writing. It will give you LEEEVerage with your writing.”

Bronte’s Mom repeats, “It will give you great LEEEVerage.”

Bronte starts laughing as she’s crying.

Her Mom doesn’t say ‘leverage’. She says ‘LEEEVERAGE’. Bronte now knows it’s her. “That’s exactly what Mum would say! She was Scottish:  She always mispronounced words like that!”

Bronte’s Mom is now doing this funny little dance – stamping her feet, pumping her little fists up and down. She’s so excited Bronte knows that it’s really her.  “Bronte, your Mom is doing this crazy little dance. I wish you could see it. It’s quite distinctive!”

Now Bronte is bawling. She really knows it’s her Mom.

“Mum had this silly little girl dance, with her fists clenched and stomping her feet. It was so funny!”

I’m laughing, “It IS funny!”

Bronte’s Mom says joyously, “She’s the first (family member) I’ve been able to get through to!”

Bronte gradually pulls herself together. The shift is palpable. Tom is silent, giving Bronte emotional room.  Frankly, I don’t think he knows what to do. Best to keep quiet.

Later that night I give Bronte a huge hug as she and Tom head out the door. “This was a biggie, Hon! You did it! It was a lie – in there, messing with your head all these years. And you cracked it open. Good Job!”

Bronte smiles weakly. She’s spent. Her footing a little unsure, Bronte holds on to Tom’s arm as they walk slowly towards his truck.

After our “session” I go to bed and pick up a book.
I’m exhausted but have the need to read anyway. I’m into the latest book by Colette Baron-Reid.  A highly skilled intuitive, Colette writes about getting a reading from her gifted medium friend John Holland.  Just so happens, at this juncture in the book John Holland channels Colette’s Mom – and the same thing happens. A belief Colette clung to for most of her life about her Mom turned out to be untrue. After that reading, Colette was basically off the radar for days, crying and trying to integrate what she’d learned. I have first-hand knowledge of this kind of shake down process, but it’s nice to hear it shared by another reputable source.

I email Bronte in the morning, asking her outright “So, how goes the shift?”

I continue, “I’ve been reading, and a passage reminded me to pass on this important detail.  There is a process, after a tightly held belief has been shattered, and it is a shake down process. (I relate Colette’s experience to Bronte).  It’s a reminder that you have to take the time to rewire and integrate what you have learned. It’s painful. But if you don’t, it will be much more painful.”

Bronte emails back later with her status thus far. “I’ve been shaken, baby! Cried a lot. But you know, it’s really hard to resist sticking the whole thing into a box I can understand. One thing prevents me from doing that–the word “leeeverage” That’s exactly how Mum would say that word and I realize there’s no way you could have known that.  And that crazy little girl dance…

“I feel ashamed of myself for doubting her.  She was too loving to hurt me but I kept that pain in me for years. I didn’t look at that moment because it was too horrible and then when I finally did, it was too late. She was gone. I thought ‘I can’t fix it now – so…’ Thank you for this.”

I’m always amazed how Spirit does its best to make amends.
Spirit tries to set the record straight with loved ones: Time and space don’t matter.  We usually need help to hear the message.  Something has to shift. We need to be in the right frame of mind to accept something very foreign to our ingrained way of thinking. And be open to change. I guess that’s what I do. Help people to hear these messages when they are ready.

I also see how we must be patient with ourselves. Our mortal integration process of messages from Spirit takes more than a couple of days, to not only know the truth but feel the truth in our core.

Almost two months go by.
Bronte and I are at a gathering. Talking about her struggle with alcohol, Bronte says, “You know, I’ve been following the 12-Step Program, reading the books, trying to walk the talk. But there was something missing that kept derailing me. But when I heard my Mum’s message, when I knew it was her – the things you couldn’t possibly have known…

“I saw what it was: I had this wrong belief, this pain stuck deep inside me. I didn’t even know it was there. But I now realize its significance: How was I going to stop drinking when I had this huge pain to cover up about my Mum? But I found out it was pain based on an illusion. I don’t need the alcohol to cover up a pain that doesn’t exist anymore. I feel the truth in there now. I think it’s getting easier.”

— With thanks to Spirit for infinite return.
(c) 2010, 2011, 2012 The Accidental Medium. UltraMarine Media Inc. All Rights Reserved.

3 Responses to “Bronte’s Inferno (Part II)”

  1. LDouglas Says:

    I reread this again and was reminded that, as parents, they do the best job they know how with the tools they had at the time. My heart breaks and rejoices for the mom who had no voice, or was overwhelmed by all she lived with, and the daughter who was unable to hear…until you helped heal them both… Magic in action.

  2. LDouglas Says:

    I love Tom for putting footprints on your ceiling. Keep them up there. Don’t paint over them. It gives perspective…and makes me think of that Lionel Ritchie song…

  3. admin Says:

    Thanks L!
    I love your comments and input – it helps me know when I’m on the right track. Please keep those comments coming! Writing these stories down takes considerable energy – your encouragement really helps! Big Hugs, AM

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