Finding Soul Home

Shoshana Zuboff writes, “That nostos, finding home is among our most profound needs is evident by the price we are willing to pay for it”.

I thought becoming would be like a returning to home, but as far as I can tell for those of us who come from very broken homes, this returning home is more like a Jungian individuation. For Jung the process of individuation is becoming whole or the gathering and returning of lost soul parts we dissociate as we grow. Once we gather enough of our soul back, we carry this home soul inside. This is key for those individuals who grew up in dysfunction, broken from our lines stretching back through generational trauma and neglect.

At a grocery store during Christmas time, I spotted a son and father holding hands. The little boy pulled his father’s arm in the direction of the baking section, his eyes big with delight, he asked for the holiday cookie bake set screeching the words out. His father turned him away from the display and said, we aren’t bakers, son, we’re builders. I swear I saw a little soul speck fly off into the void as I remembered all the things, I was told I was. This unfamiliar external identity, of a made up narrative casted onto me. And let me tell you, this narrative was sure as hell not pretty.

Growing up in a dilapidated family exacerbates these narratives, it twists ties and contrives them into: You are the following things. It fucks them because it is written for you not by you. These things you don’t consent to. The narrative is disseminated by the narcissists in the family in an attempt to let the outside world know you are broken and bad. But practiced people don’t listen to emotional trashing of other humans.

The insidiousness of false narrative becomes apparent when you really believe that is you and you are it. Your ego backs up this claim, repeatedly. He stands on his tippy toes in the back of your brain berating you as you question the validity of their essentialization. Eventually he becomes a regular visitor morning, noon, and night. And you decide you are the common denominator, but what you don’t realize is the narcissistic family system operates like a cult. A cult nullifying anyone who won’t comply to enmeshment, you are not broken, you never were.

I went through a divorce recently. I said goodbye to my marriage to this shitty fucked up narrative called me. I didn’t know I was such a good lawyer either, because I was able to muster up a no contact order on the critic and their abuse. Instead of just letting the ego fill in the now blank pages, I decided to make it an imaginal journal. I told linguistics to fuck off, because defining identity is near impossible and I could see who I am through the images in my head and my dreams.

I was never a broken bad narrative, I was in fact just a spirit in my meat sack, exposed to the wrath of unexamined lives lived before my time. I joy in disarming the requirement of external validation, good or bad. I hope other people who had a fucked-up home, dealing and healing with childhood trauma and neglect, can find their soul house and bring it on back home.



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Welcome to the other side of waking, to an exploration of life through dreams, anthropology, psychology, and a little anecdotal bullshit.