“Can I please be angry and can you please just accept me where I’m at?”

I stuttered, as the anger boiled up from the very depths of my soul.

I thought about what I had just said.

Images of myself at a young age flashed across my memory.

That’s all she needs. That’s all she ever needed. To be accepted.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned around and walked out of the room.

I walked into my room and crashed on my bed into a hard sob. I felt my body tense as years of suppressed anger rose to the surface. I grabbed a pillow and slammed the fucker down as many times as I possibly could. I gritted my teeth, I yelled, I sobbed and I ached. And when I thought it was all over… I cried even harder.

The truth is, I didn’t need anyone else’s acceptance of my anger. I didn’t need anyone else to accept that I’m just in a tough spot right now. I need my own acceptance.

I needed to learn how to accept my own anger, and let her rage it out so it could finally be released. For good.

And what did I find under all of that anger? Grief.

Grief for the little me who wasn’t accepted when she was angry.

Grief for the little me who was told that I was not allowed to be angry, but others could be.

For the little me who was forced to experience unyielding, unhealthy, unsafe anger at the hands of a very flawed man, but was told I had to suppress all of mine.

The little me who looked at the world from, “He gets to be angry but I can’t?”

Who was told to go away to to her room because expressing her anger was wrong.

Who was threatened to be sent the principal’s office if I dared to speak up or get angry.

In all of my years, I don’t believe that I have ever been allowed to be angry, in my fullest unyielding expression and still be totally accepted and held space for.

In our society, it’s too “wrong”.

Anger deserves only to be punished. Never to be held.

As I held the grief that came up, and let the tears wash it away, I softened.

I called upon the collective Divine Masculine energy, including my own Divine Masculine inner polarity to hold space for me. I was held in the presence of softness, warmth, comfort and the deepest acceptance.

I felt not only my own grief, but the grief my mother, my grandmother, my great grandmother, and so on. Centuries of suppressed anger, hurt, and aching to simply be held and understood. Generational grief from not feeling witnessed. Heard. Unconditionally loved.

And in letting myself feel it all.. I called back a piece of my soul - and their souls - back to holy union.

If you’re tuned in, you know our ancestors are calling us to do this exact work. All in the name of coming back to state that which we originated. Pure unconditional love. And we can do that, by shedding one tear at a time.

Somatic expression unveils the deepest cores of our inner being, and if we let it, it can transform us. Not because we are needing transformation, but because we are ready for it.

Generational curse breakers, women calling back their Divine Power, and so many others are ready for it.

It’s time to Reclaim.

-C