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I don’t know of a single adult who feels they had a father who really deeply and functionally loved them. Well, ok, I know of one… but not personally.

I dissociated most of my childhood. My brothers have so many more memories than I. My first memory of my father was riding in my mother’s car when I was five, with my three baby brothers buckled in the back seat.  It was dark and I was afraid. My mother didn’t know where my father was, and we were driving from bar to bar to see if his car was in the parking lot.

I never thought much about my father’s love until I was quite into my adult years. It was then I began to look at my relationship with my father, because I didn’t seem to be able to have functional adult relationships with men. I would over give, over care and over control. I attracted men who were steeped in shame and couldn’t receive what I had to give because of their own feelings of being flawed.

And then I began looking at my dad. He was a man’s man. He didn’t have the first clue about how to father a girl, let alone his three sons. He wouldn’t hit me like he would my brothers – that was a big distinguishing factor. And he couldn’t talk about tools or fishing or cars with me, although God knows I tried.

He did teach me some things… how to crochet, how to knit and how to use the sewing machine. He taught my mom how to cook. He grew up on a farm during the Great Depression and sustaining the family was all he knew. My mother spent her formative years in what she referred to as ‘garbage alley.’ The daughter of an alcoholic and absentee father, her mother finally had enough of the ‘problems’ and put her and her siblings in an orphanage to spend their teenage years.

Once I knew how to knit and crochet, and mastered the sewing machine, my relationship with my father faltered. It seemed he wasn’t interested in moving beyond the basics. I finally figured out another way to connect with my Dad – mathematics. I would bring home math problems and we would see who could get the answer first. That connection, sadly, ended when a problem stumped him yet I could figure it out. Apparently he only wanted to play that game if he could win.

I set out to heal that child, so disappointed that she wasn’t receiving the love and attention she craved. Through years of introspection, discovery and healing, I finally have succeeded, I believe, in that phenomenal quest.

You see, if your child-self isn’t happy, loved, shame-free and safe, it is unlikely you will be able to create the magnificent dream life you came here to live.  He/she will hold you back, afraid and undeserving. The good news is it is healable. It is changeable.

Part of the changing and healing for me (and I suggest for all), was to give my child (in meditation) a home that was safe, and parents who loved her – deeply, truly, wholly, from a spiritual adult perspective. Now the parents I gave my child were not my actual parents. I could not imagine that no matter how hard I tried. The parents I gave her are my male and female counselors. They all live in a beautiful gingerbread Victorian house on the water. There are art supplies and easels, room after room of dolls and toys, tons of friends to play with, and creativity and love abounds.

Lately I have been feeling something shifting – the result of my hard work on healing this paying off. The first sign was a book I read recently (The Middle Place, byKelly Corrigan) about a woman who was battling cancer at the same time as her father, whom she loved deeply. As I read about how incredibly loved by her father she felt for her entire life, I thought how wonderful that would be.

And this morning, I went to check in on that child-self of mine (meditatively). Miraculously, something has shifted – something incredibly amazing. She feels absolutely, totally 100% loved by her father!! As I walked to her home she ran into my arms, giggling and smiling. She told me about her latest doll and then her father joined us. He beamed with pride. He spoke to me of how brilliant and creative she is. Tears rolled down my checks (and they do as I write this) as I let in that finally, finally, she is loved by her dad. I am so happy for her (and for me – for this is big).

And as I sat in meditation, reveling in this new knowledge and resonance, I remembered something. A few weeks ago, I bought a gift basket for a newborn. When I received it, I saw one of the teeny tiny little pink shirts had “Daddy Loves Me” embroidered across the front. I took it out of the basket, because in this situation it would not be appropriate to give this baby that shirt. And I put it in my cupboard at work, where it is now.

It dawned on me that there was a reason I ordered this shirt without knowing. The shirt wasn’t for my newborn friend, it was for me. It was for my newborn self. The one who is now free… free to have functional relationships with men. Free to believe in herself and her dreams. Free to love and be loved in return.

Working with our child self is one of the most important aspects of creating a delicious life. I know it seems counterintuitive to go back in order to move forward, but it works. I urge you to sit quietly and imagine the place your child lived when you were 5 or 6 years old. Go to where your child self went to be alone. And sit with them. They exist. They are real.

Just sit with them and let them talk to you, if they like, about their life. Just listen. Just love them. And when they are done, let them know of your magical powers. Let them know you can imagine and then give to them a safe, loving, delicious life. And do it. Whatever they want, give it to them. See them there – feel them loving it. And let them know from here on out, you will be in charge of your adult life and they must stay in their world. You will feel your world shift and change, as they become happier in theirs.

And then write me, and let me know what happens in your reality!

In joyous creation,

6 comments add a comment

6 comments to " Daddy loves me (finally)… "

  • Boni, there are so many similarities with our fathers! My dad also grew up in the depression, had no idea how to relate to any of his children and had a problem with alcohol. He had rigid ideas of what was “women’s work” and would have never touched a crochet hook or sewing machine, but did let me work in the office for his logging company from a young age.

    When I first started working on my inner child in the 1980’s I also could not even imagine that my father or mother would love me. I put my inner child into a peaceful meadow with an angel and a friendly lion. She has lived there ever since.

    She is healed. Every once in awhile something fearful will trigger her and she will come into my consciousness. She also comes into my consciousness when I am extremely upset and comforts me by singing childhood songs to me. That is such a loving gift for me!! It brings tears to my eyes think of it right now.

    • Sally,

      Your post speaks to me of how real the child inside of us is. Some think of this work as ‘only technique’. But if in fact, time and space is all and illusion (which it is), then everything exists at once and our child self is still alive.

      How lovely you gave your child the angel and lion – what symbology there. My child also, no longer has her birth parents. My male and female counselors (unseen friends) are parenting her (I will be writing much more on this topic in the future friends).

      Congratulations on healing and taking such good care of your child-self Sally.

      With love and light,

  • i (finally) read this…wow! thanks so much for sharing. i must say, you can write! i think i’ve shared some of the incredible encounters i’ve had with my dad since he passed away 4 years ago. like your dad, mine also taught me to sew! how many girls can say that? the ongoing relationship i’m having with my dad is amazing. the day of our new year’s eve party, my hair was more ‘free’ than usual and it reminded me of a picture i have of me on my dad’s shoulders when i was about 4. (4 shows up ALL the time…it’s my special, lucky number). i felt a connection to how he felt in that moment, loving me with innocence.

    yesterday my granddaughter shay, and i, went through lots of family pictures. i found one of my dad holding ty (our now13 year grandson) when he was a newborn. dad has his eyes closed with a sweet, loving, smile on his face. i cried and said, thank you. again the warm love showed up. boy, have i made kent ‘pay’ over the years, sharing the pain….can’t believe he’s hung in there. it was much worse years ago….’finally’, as you say, i’m getting my dad’s gentle love!

    thanks again boni,

    • Jody,

      Healing transcends time, space and death, doesn’t it? I am really glad you have healed and are healing the relationship with your dad. So often we don’t forgive others because we want them to pay, but what we overlook is that the person we are freeing (and often forgiving also) is ourselves. I am grateful we are shown the tools and techniques to get to ‘what is real’ and heal.

      With love and light,

  • Anne

    This is beautiful — absolutely thought-inspiring. Thank you Boni for this gift.

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