Reinventing myself personal growth program
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Guided Meditation C.D.s
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Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
responses to articles
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
personal growth Links
Articles by other authors
Sonya Green new articles
Parents Who are these Aliens?
Is it true you marry your Father?
Help! I think I'm becoming my Mother!
Heal your Heart - Love your Body - Live your Joy!
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Some people look back on their childhood as, ‘The best years of their lives’. I,
on the other hand, hated being a child because I always felt caged and
restrained.

I disliked having to ask for things. I especially disliked being told “No!” without
a logical or fair reason. I hated being told what to wear, when to come home
or where I could go. When I was very young I hated not being able to reach
things. I really hated sitting in the back seat of the car being told to “Sit still and
shut up!”  When visitors came we were sent outside to play. We were usually
sent to bed when we weren’t ready or tired.

One of my earliest childhood memories has me standing at the gate with my
mother’s voice calling from the house, “Sonya, don’t you leave the yard will
you?” I was about three years old and I was wondering why I couldn’t go out
of the gate.

My father and my big brother left every day. They both got to go out of the
gate, but I wasn’t allowed to. People walked past, stopped, said hello and
continued on. Everyone in the world seemed to be outside the gate except me.
I just knew that exciting things happened out there.

I had heard my father talk about work and my brother talk about school. I had
seen ladies pushing prams and carrying home shopping.  I had been warned
that bad things happen out there and, that someone might steal me if I went out
there.  I guess that I had been told that I would get lost and not know how to
get home, that cars might run over me, and that dogs might bite me. I don’t
know how I knew this, but I seemed to know it. I also knew that I believed
that it was a lie.

One day I did go out. I noticed that the neighbour’s fence led to a gate on the
other side of their yard.  I felt certain that if I kept my hand on the fence I could
walk as far as the gate at the far side without getting lost. I played it over in my
mind until I was sure that it was a good plan.  It worked!  I went all the way to
the other side, turned around, and with my fingers lightly touching the fence
palings, I made my way back.

I think that this memory has stayed with me all of these years as it was
probably one of the most significant days of my life. For me, it was the day that
I discovered that I was my own little entity. I discovered the ‘Nature of the
Beast’ that I was to become.  I had discovered freedom of choice and
independence. It was probably also the day that my parents’ nightmares began.

My father used to refer to me as, “A bugger of a child”. I couldn’t wait to get
to school, yet by the third year I was pulled into the headmaster’s office for
truancy. I had my little sister and an older friend with me when we were caught.
My mother was embarrassed that my sister, who was only six, was labelled the
youngest kid to ever wag school. Not only did that embarrass her, but she
learned that we were all sitting at my friend’s house with our faces covered in
make-up, wearing high-heeled shoes and smoking cigarettes.

By the time I reached high school, I had had enough. The teachers considered
me to be something of a delinquent and I thought that they were ‘screwing with
my mind’.  I had a smart mouth, a bad attitude and I was headed for trouble.

My parents later confided that they thought that I would give them a nervous
breakdown. Honestly, I was a bugger of a kid, I was head strong and
rebellious. I challenged all forms of authority and I just would not allow people,
regardless of rank, to control me.

I used to lie in bed at night and say to my sister, “Who are these people?”
referring to our parents. My sister was my kindred spirit and I could tell her
anything however, my parents were a ‘Whole different kettle of fish’. We
decided that we had been adopted at birth and for the time being we would
just have to accept these ‘Aliens’ that we lived with.

I spent most of my adolescence screaming, “I just want to be free!” I often ran
away from home until the legal age of sixteen when I finally packed my bags for
the last time and left.

My father was scared and the more fear he had the more controlling he
became. The more controlling he became the more rebellious and outrageous I
became. My father believed effective parenting required discipline. His idea of
discipline was to belt me with a strap. He would yell so loudly and angrily that
the veins around his temples stood out, his face became bright red and his eyes
looked like those of a wild animal.  

I learned not to cry. Later I learned how to scream back and hit back. For
many years we were at war.

My father was not a bad guy. He was charming, gentle, talented and a lot of
fun. He did not drink, smoke or womanise. Most of the time, he was a really
likable person. I was not blameless either. I certainly provoked him and
definitely required some guidance. My father had a huge problem with fear and
stress that manifested itself as violence. For many years I felt confused about
this relationship, as it was both loving and violent.

A father-daughter relationship is extremely dynamic. It seems common and
understandable that many women marry men similar to their fathers. It turned
out to be very fortunate for me that I was rebellious, as I was able to move on
without any permanent damage. Neither my sister nor I have ever been in
violent relationships and we’ve never hit our children.

Miraculously I made it through childhood alive and intact. Adulthood suited me
so much better. Once I had my independence I managed to level out. I had
raced through my childhood trying to be older than I was. But as we all learn
when we get there, ‘Adulthood requires maturity and experience’.  You really
can’t just jump there.

Over the years, we re-grouped and became a close-knit family. Ironically, my
father and I had a lot in common when the playing field was level. By the time
he was forty; he gave up his stressed-out lifestyle, and bought a farm on the
North Coast. He found part-time work as a musician, joined a church,
remarried, and had a new family. In short, ‘He chilled out and reinvented
himself’.

Most of the time we all got along fine, but on occasion something would come
up and a button would be pushed. Many, many times I confronted my father
and demanded answers or apologies about something that I remembered. I
often brought up instances from my teen-age years and with my articulate,
sword-like tongue, I would slash him to pieces.

He would be mortified and deeply wounded. We went on like this for a few
years as we, ‘Work-shopped our relationship’. The day did come when we
had processed everything and simply accepted that,
“We all did the best we
could, and with the limited knowledge that we had, in the time frame in which
we lived”.
Or, as Oprah Winfrey often quotes, “If we had known better, we
would have done better".

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Sonya Green Reinventing Myself
Heal your Heart, Love your Body and Live your Joy!

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