Dear Alessa:

Thank you for your thoughtful response—I truly appreciate the reflection and openness you bring to these conversations. I really like engaging with you too 😊.

I agree with your insight about rejection coming from self-rejection— indeed, how often do we interpret others’ actions as rejection when, beneath it all, we’re already rejecting ourselves first? This is why self-acceptance is so important.

Your words about validating my own needs and supporting myself mean a lot. I’m really glad you shared that because I think personal validation is such an ongoing journey—it’s easy to lose sight of it, and your encouragement reinforces the importance of staying committed to it.

What you said about the bond between a child and their mother struck me too. Have you reflected on what happens to those early bonds in your own experience? How do you think trauma changes them over time?

Also, I really appreciate your openness to adjusting how you communicate. I personally don’t feel you take away from my experience at all—I really value how you bring different perspectives into the discussion. It makes it richer, more layered ❤️

anita

Dear Alessa:

Thank you for trusting me with this question. ❤️

I could have written what you shared myself: “My instinctive bond with my biological mother was damaged to the point that I no longer felt it toward her. I learned to not come to her for any reason and avoid her as much as possible. As a young teen, I began to hate her.”- Same here.

It was only recently, through my writings on tiny buddha, that I reconnected with the love I had for her before the Damage (I’m emphasizing your word “damaged” with a capital D). It truly surprised me.

Not only did I rediscover the love I had for her before the Damage, but I realized that I loved her all along. Before, during, and after the Damage, that love remained, even though I thought for years that I hated her.

For me, the Damage was the Betrayal—the betrayal of a child’s natural, necessary trust in the mother. The shock of it, the raw trauma of realizing I was not safe in her hands. It must have been overwhelming.

Yet, the love I feel for her now does not mean trust. It does not mean there is a bond. It does not mean the anger is gone. This love is not even something I chose—it simply is.

Healing from this early-life Betrayal of Trust, for me, means honoring the trust others place in me. If someone trusts me, I do my best to be worthy of that trust. That realization—that honoring others’ trust matters so deeply to me—is something I’ve only fully embraced in the past few months.

When my mother betrayed my natural trust as a child, it created deep pain—an emotional rupture where safety, reliability, and connection were lost. By choosing to honor trust in my own relationships, I am learning to actively shape trust in my life. I am no longer at the mercy of someone else’s choices—I decide to be someone who is reliable and safe.

Honoring trust shifts the focus from pain to purpose—proving that despite past betrayal, I am capable of trust and connection. Caring about trust is an act of healing, growth, and self-repair.

I just remembered, Alessa—long ago, you mentioned that you are a very loyal person, and those words stayed with me. Now, I find myself wondering—are you loyal to yourself? Do you honor the trust that little-girl Alessa placed in grown-up Alessa?

I’m asking myself the same question. And the answer? Yes—though it’s a very recent realization for me, and it has made a huge difference. In the past, little-girl Anita was strangely silent, almost muted. But now, she speaks from time to time, offering me valuable insights that I could never find anywhere else.

Being loyal to myself is a new journey—one that is still unfolding. It means respecting my own needs and feelings rather than ignoring them, standing up for myself, keeping promises to myself, being honest with myself, choosing what’s best for me instead of just pleasing others, and ultimately, supporting myself no matter what.

Looking back at your post, you said to me, “Stay true to yourself! You are the expert in your own needs.”-

Where do you feel you are right now, in terms of being true to yourself and understanding what you need? Has that awareness grown for you over time?

anita

Dear Alessa:

I really appreciate the way you reflect on your experiences with clarity and honesty. It’s meaningful to see how you navigated your relationship with your mother, processed emotions in your own way, and found a path forward that works for you.

I admire your ability to prioritize growth and goals while also remaining self-aware of the different perspectives within yourself. Trusting yourself isn’t simple when different parts of you pull in different directions, but the fact that you recognize this shows a deep understanding of your own mind.

You wrote, “I don’t take my emotions too seriously. I lean towards goals.”- I think this means that when you experience strong emotions, you don’t let them completely consume you or drive your choices. Instead, you keep your attention on what you want to accomplish, ensuring that your emotions don’t derail your progress.

I think that a major goal you want to accomplish is being a good mother, which I think you already accomplished, and I admire you for it!

I mean, really, I admire you, Alessa ❤️!

anita

Dear Peter:

Thank you for taking the time to share this with me. The heart of the message you quoted is that even when someone lacked nurturing, love, or emotional stability from a mother figure, they can still thrive and heal. The soul is resilient, capable of surviving and even flourishing despite hardship.

This idea connects closely to something you wrote in another thread about The Dispossessed: “‘We suffer not enough’… to take the leap of Transformation or is that Transcendence”.

From what I’m gathering, suffering can be transformative, leading to connection and purpose. It is not merely an obstacle but a passage toward deeper meaning.

Transcendence, however, is not about suppressing suffering or pretending it doesn’t exist. It is about recognizing it, accepting it, and then stepping beyond its emotional weight.

Pain may not disappear, but it can be redefined—it can serve a greater function rather than being seen as mere hardship. Transcendence happens when suffering is no longer something to endure but rather a doorway to wisdom and a fuller experience of life.

I welcome this shift in perspective wholeheartedly. Thank you, Peter, for sharing and guiding this reflection.

anita

Dear Alessa:

Thank you for taking the time to write, even as you’re falling asleep—I appreciate that. ❤️

I completely understand why reflecting on your biological mother is so difficult. Given the abuse and harm she caused you, it makes sense that revisiting those memories takes a deep emotional toll. The pain you endured wasn’t just difficult—it was devastating, and your strength in processing it, even in small moments, is incredibly powerful.

It’s understandable that you don’t have as much time to sit with your emotions now, but I hope you continue to give yourself grace and space, even in small ways. You deserve that.

No need to apologize—whenever you feel ready to write more, I’ll be here. Sending you warmth and support always.

anita

Betrayal is Business-as-Usual. Isn’t it?

Betrayal with a capital B.

it happens every day when we extend a reaching hand to others, only to be bitten.

But reaching out needs not be halted.

Like I said on the other thread of mine, maybe one or two people are reading this.

I need a way, a platform to reach others with like-minds, and make a difference. What will such a platform be?

anita