MUSINGS OF A MODERN MYSTIC: Generational Trauma and the Outcast

Water 5

“After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.”

Arthur Golden

I saw a meme recently that hit the deepest recesses of my being, and I have searched high and low and cannot seem to find it again; I know I didn’t dream it, either. I searched on FB, IG, Pinterest and Google, so if anyone knows what I am talking about, PLEASE, share it!

The meme said (loosely quoting, there was a great caption, too): “In order to heal generational trauma, you must begin by understanding the black sheep of the family; they are wounds embodied.” Note: Black sheep is one of those terms that has tones of subtle racism, and so I am choosing to use the word outcast instead.

It stopped me in my tracks.

I dropped my phone.

I sobbed.

I sobbed until no noise came out of my mouth.

I sobbed until my tears ran dry.

I sobbed until my Soul was tired.

I have always been the outcast; my family seems to believe that because they love me, that means they accept me, or that they understand me.

They hardly know me, so how can those other things be true?

I have no ill will towards my family, I love them, but I am the product of what happens when parents’ divorce and one of three children is moved away from *everyone*.

Separation happens.

I have written about my Father Wound before so many of you know what happened there, and how that affected me (how his absence and abandonment molded me, and my views of Men)—I plan to share an epiphany I had on the subject later in this blog.

Much of my family didn’t try to have a relationship with me, a child, and they blamed me, a child.

I type this and worry one may see and get offended.

But I don’t care.

Keep reading.


I was 12 at the time, and quickly learned that my new home environment was abusive, and I remained there for 10 years; that is where a lot of my CPTSD comes from.

Having a connection with my family wasn’t at the forefront of my mind: surviving was.

Truths need to be brought to light, and hard truths even more so.

This is about more than the divorce, what happened after, and the dynamic of relationships within my family; this is about what it means to be the outcast.

I scoff, roll my eyes, and bite my tongue every time I see someone claim to be an outcast (really black sheep, but again, a tad racist) like it’s a badge of honor; same as people who claim to be “weirdos”.

This shit isn’t a trend.

Being an outcast is isolating, painful, lonely, and traumatic as fuck. As a child you wonder, why am I not good enough, what did I do wrong, why can’t I be normal? Am I not worthy of love?

And, as an adult not much changes, except maybe having the strength to draw hard lines in the sand, or the compassion to forgive and move forward; other times it’s cutting them off completely.

Being a weirdo usually means we’re bullied in our younger years (which may even transfer to adult life, too). It means not being accepted, being ostracized and ridiculed.

I had no choice in being weird, or an outcast—both are very much who I am, but they were not easy roles to play, or paths to walk; they still aren’t.

I am proud to be both but I won’t sit here and make either look pretty.

As far as my family goes, on one hand I want to be understood and accepted, on the other hand I know they won’t “get it” so why even bother?

I am loud, opinionated, wise, in tune, defiant (also respectful when I need to be).

I take up space, my presence is undeniably powerful (Jupiter on my Ascendant can be thanked for that, among other things).

I say what I mean and mean what I say; I don’t let racism, sexism, classism, or any “ism” happen in my presence, and that has made for some very interesting family gatherings.

Last Easter (a Holiday I don’t celebrate, but it coincides with my Grandfather’s birthday) I cleared the table when I said that my brother’s fiancé was wrong for wanting to get “a Native card” so that her daughter could get a discount on college tuition.

That’s the whitest, most privileged shit I ever heard.

Eye roll

I had to call that out.

How can I sit here and tell all of you to burn in your truth if I won’t burn in mine?

I also called us (white people) colonizers, because we are; regardless if we (my family) have Native blood in us (we do) or not.

We are white passing; we have never been oppressed because of our Indigenous heritage, we don’t know what it’s like to live on a Rez in 2019 and not have running water, and electricity. We don’t face the addiction rates (a direct result of, you guessed it, Generational Trauma and colonization) that Indigenous people do, nor do we have to worry about our girls in the way Indigenous people do ; their girls and Women go missing and/or are killed in staggering numbers.

Don’t get me started on the sexual assault statistics. It’s mind-blowing.

For reference and education, click here.

So, no, you don’t get a “Native card” for higher education.

I was not about sit there in silence……in compliance, while some privileged shit went unchecked.

I checked it.


For clarification, I do have supportive, progressive and amazing family members whom I love more than anything in this world; they are my anchor to my humanity.

This leads me to the Mother Wound and Generational Trauma.

Generational Trauma is the idea that trauma is passed on through not only DNA but as a psychic imprint.

You can read more about it, here.

I faced my Father Wound with rage the likes of which can’t aptly be described.

I held onto so much fucking hate, and utter disdain for my sperm donor that I removed the concept of having a Father altogether.

I handled my Mother Wound with complete understanding, and compassion; anger at times, too, when she would project her pain onto me, but it didn’t linger because I took her pain on as my own, and together we sifted through it.


As we began to heal our traumas and our bond, we noticed the Women in my family waking up, and they started to ride the frequency of their intuition; my one Aunt even has begun to build her first Altar.

She also buys all my books and supports me like no other. My cousins are into spirituality, Feminism, crystals, etc. and a few are even anti-religion like me (which makes me so proud!)

My Mom is an outcast, too so teaming up, and attacking our pain (most of which was experienced together and is why our bond is so strong) has allowed the Generational Wounds to show themselves and be healed.

We called on the Ancestors for help, as well, and filled any missing pieces by asking the elders.

My (step) Sister has recently come out as a Witch.

One of my Brother’s has completely opened himself up to the otherworld (he doesn’t quite know it yet, though) and he and his wife even birthed into creation a beautiful baby Witch who is now 4.

These awakenings brought me back to my Father Wound after I heard a story about what happened to him when he was a child. Apparently, he was caught playing with his Sister’s dolls and the punishment was severe.

Hell, my brothers played with my dolls with me, just like I played with their G.I Joe, matchbox cars and Wrestling figures.

Punished for playing with dolls?

But, back in the early 60’s it was unacceptable in his home (still is in some homes today) and he was forced to wear one of his sister’s dresses and stand out on the front lawn from morning until evening “to teach him a lesson”.

And, this is only one example of the expectations put on him as a child to be hyper-masculine, that he has carried all through his life.

The patriarchy hurts us all, and this is a prime example—toxic masculinity at its most vile.

Water 4

Last time I saw my Father, he was so….old and fragile.

I could see life had taken its toll on him, I could see the pain in his eyes—the pain he tries to cover so hard. I could sense the unhappiness that he hides with new shiny toys and home renovations. And, suddenly I didn’t feel hate anymore, I felt pity at first, then I felt nothing but compassion and empathy for him. I wanted to take him in my arms and swallow him up with Divine Mother energy.

After that encounter I sat down and readdressed the Father Wound; I know he will never be what I need or want him to be, he will never love me the way he should, the way I need, or want, but I understand him on a deeper level now, and for some reason that makes things, not okay, but easier for me to swallow.

The same goes for the rest of my family.

I am not excusing actions, but I am refusing to allow them to continue.

It ends with me.

There is something profound seeing the work you have done individually, then teamed up with your Crone Mother manifest into real healing for the ones you love most.

Trauma is complex, love is complex, family is complex.

Generational Trauma takes years to fully comprehend, but it can be understood, and to some degree overcome; healing can happen on some level, and cycles can be broken.



I had to stop running, face the truth, no matter how hard or ugly it was; then I Alchemized that shit and watched how things shifted.

DADDY ISSUES: How to Heal the Father Wound

Michael Vincent Manalo

Image: Michael Vincent Manalo

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”

John Steinbeck

Part of the human experience is pain, and I think it’s safe to say that we have all at one time or another discovered what it feels like to have our heart and Soul shredded by the words and/or actions of another.

My past interactions with people in my life caused serious trust issues; I don’t mean just in romantic partnerships either, I mean general trust issues with every single human being I come in contact with.

It’s fucking sad.

It’s fucking lonely.

It fucking hurts.

In my experience, and opinion, our “issues” as adults usually stem from a childhood place, and more often than not they have to do with one, or both of our parents.

What a way for the world to welcome you, by having your parent(s) betray and hurt you.

The Mother Wound has been discussed many times on the page; a Wound that has not affected me nearly as deeply as the Father Wound.

Both of these Wounds are variations of what is called a Soul Wound. These Wounds are karmic knots and they affect how you reincarnate, and essentially, how you are and live as a person in your day to day life.

Wounds can be created from abuse, neglect, abandonment, Self-harm, surgeries and sexual trauma, to name a few. When a Wound occurs a piece of your Soul either leaves and you become fragmented, or the piece becomes “stuck” and unable to evolve beyond the pain; which of course makes you unable to evolve as a whole being.

It took me years to get to the root of my Wound and begin to nurture it, water it and allow it to blossom.

That’s right, you must allow the pain to breakthrough.

From this point you are then able to heal yourself from the pain inflicted by the hands, words, actions, thoughts, and absence of another human being. Once the pain has been dealt with and conquered your power is yours again.

Before I get into how to heal the Wound, let me tell you my story so you can get a better idea of what I have been through. I am going to be a bit vague because since my Grandma died in April I have been attempting to form and maintain some kind of relationship with my Father, so I don’t want to hash up all the skeletons.

But, seriously why am I even attempting this relationship again? I guess I didn’t learn my lesson entirely, or maybe that pesky little girl inside me looking for her Dad hasn’t given up trying to find him. I like to think I am just hard headed and want to show him how amazing I am, and I owe none of my awesomeness and talents to him.

It has been no secret to those who have been following me for a long time that I have Daddy issues; I use that term to take the power back because *SO* many times it was used against me in life.

“This bitch has Daddy Issues.”

“She is a walking Daddy Issue.”

“Her Dad really fucked her up.”

These are just some of the comments made about me because of who I was as a person due to the absence of my Father.

I was not only hurt by these words, but I felt like they gave my Father power. Plus, I came to the realization that this pain was only affecting me—he was living his new life, and was just fine; I was the one who was suffering, and allowing others to continue the cycle.

One day I just embraced the fact that I have Daddy issues, and it was at that moment I was able to begin the journey of healing.

Since the moment of my birth my Father was terrified of me. He was scared that I was a little girl, and more scared of my strength. I came in to this world fighting for my life and the battle has never eased up; I have never had the choice to be strong or not.

He never liked my strong opinions, free thinking mentality, and he was threatened by my intelligence. So what did I do?  I watered myself down to seek his approval.

How fucking sickening.

I tried to be who he wanted me to be, what he expected a daughter to be, but that role didn’t fit and after years of trying to get him to see me, I gave up.

When my parents finally got divorced when I was about to turn 12 Mom and I moved away, and well, that was that.

I was in a new place, away from my entire family and everything I had ever known and mourning the loss of my Father; a man who would continue to care, Father and support my older Brothers. He chose to love them, he chose to be a Dad to them, he chose to be present for them but not for me.

There honestly is no pain in the world that can be compared.

I cannot speak for young men, but I know as a young woman the situation with my Father had a huge role in how I viewed men, love, sex, and my promiscuity.

At first, I tried to fill the void but I quickly learned that was impossible, no one can replace a parent. So I became ruthless. I turned into a man-eater. I would have casual rough sex, with absolutely no intimacy—no kissing, no eye gazes and damn sure no cuddling afterwards. I thought of every man I encountered as “my Father” and he couldn’t be trusted, so I would use him, and make him feel like shit.

Then one day my conscience could remain silent no more and I realized what I was doing, and knew a change had to be made and that change was not going to come in the form of an apology from my Father: it had to come from within. Besides my reckless behavior and rebellion were only hurting me, and literally no one else.

Here are the steps I followed to healing my Wounds, I am sharing in hopes they can help someone out there.

Step One: Accept Your Pain: This sounds easy enough but it isn’t, accepting pain is hard because with acceptance comes anger, rage, and disappointment. It’s normal to be mad that someone hurt you and disappointed that they could do it in the first place. It has to be done though; you have to face your pain or it will rule you. Begin to love and support yourself the way you wish your Father (or other absent person) would.

Tips: Mirror Work: gaze in the mirror and honor your pain, then release it. Honor, release, repeat. This is done by simply talking to yourself, setting intentions, even writing it in Spell, or Mantra/Chant form.

Another good idea is to start writing a journal of all the pain you are holding on to; name all the people who hurt you and how; focusing on your Father mostly. When you have finished, burn it but make a ritual out of it. My suggestion would be to start the journal on a New Moon to open yourself up to the pain and healing, then on a Full Moon burn the journal in an act of letting go.

New Moon- Receiving, and Manifestation; Full Moon- Letting go, and releasing.

Step Two: Find the Root: This sounds stupid because we’re talking about Father Wounds but, there is usually a specific incident that was the initial entry point, if you will, in which all the other pain was then allowed to enter. Think about a missed Birthday, or special event, maybe even something you witnessed your Father doing; there is always a moment that stuck the knife in, and switched a healthy relationship to unhealthy. Healing the root of your pain requires patience and gentle words; you must be gentle with your Self-Talk or the root will never reveal itself.

Tips: Meditation: I would recommend a deep meditation not just your usual daily 15-20 minutes of quiet time. You may look at old pictures and/or journal entries to get the memories flowing, then close your eyes and allow your mind to take you back. You will have mental sludge to walk through before you begin to access the memories long locked away, but once they start to flow they will not stop. I would suggest having Rose Quartz nearby and maybe some Black Tourmaline; the Quartz to help your Heart Chakra and to remind yourself to be gentle, and the Black Tourmaline to absorb negativity and help ground the excess energy and emotions.

Another exercise could be hypnotherapy, and early life regression work but these should be performed by licensed professionals only. Just know there is a place where science and spirituality meet in order to heal the mind and Soul.

Step Three: Forgive and Move On: This is the hardest task for anyone to complete. Forgiveness requires that you no longer hold on to any pain, or residual feelings. This means the pain can no longer be a crutch; it can no longer be an excuse for emotional outbursts, or bad behavior. The way I rationalize forgiveness of those who have hurt me is that carrying pain, resentment, and anger hurts more than the actual pain itself.

Tips: Write a letter to the person(s) who hurt you, explain to them your pain, and then make sure to end it with “I forgive you”. You may send it to them, or burn it in the same way as the journal mentioned above. I find that whenever anything is put on paper and burned it is a tremendous relief.

Water cleansing can work for this as well. You can go out in nature and use fresh or ocean water; if that is not an option your shower/bath will do just fine. Set your intentions of forgiveness, release then say:

“Water of creation wash over me, and rid this body and Soul of all harm, pain, and negativity. I wish to finally be free of what and who I used to be. My words are firm so it shall be, this is my will, so mote it be.”

Then submerge yourself; consider it a baptism for your new life.

Pain is part of being human but it does not have to, and should not be our natural state of being.

We must always rise above those who hurt us, otherwise they have our power.

It’s time to take that power back.