(Disclaimer: Some names have been changed to protect their privacy. Mature subject matter. Read at your discretion. 18+)
If this is the first time you are reading my blogs, hiya, my name’s Clair. Nice to have you along on this journey. Down a rabbit hole, after a rabbit hole, after a rabbit hole, to discover hidden patterns within your and my subconscious minds.
I am not a doctor, nor proclaim to be an expert in any field nor level of medicine. What I am is an expert at being me. I have been doing me for a little over fifty years now. I have been studying myself through my own observations of others for approximately forty of those fifty years. That’s expert level in my opinion.
I channel a lovely spirit whom I refer to as Clairity as well. Clairity has been guiding me through an extremely difficult time as of late. Through their gentle nudges and questions for me to ponder, I have come to discover hidden truths in my mindset. My mind has attracted secret foes into my life. I was determined to get to the root of the matter. What was I really attracted to? It wasn’t their looks which had attracted me. It was far deeper than that.
Clairity is a being of light who gave me my first little shake awake. They have been by my side, helping me along my way ever since. It was Clairity who gave me inspiration to write blogs. The inspired thought came from a whispered voice inside my head.
“I don’t know what to do?!”
“Blog sweetheart”
That was it. That was the soft whisper and the inspiration to write here. Instead of hurting my hands quicker through penmanship, typing became my next best option. Voila! A novice blogger is born.
I may use she or her pronouns when I refer to my Clairity’s energetic influence because, I hear my own voice and attach the resonance with a nurturing vibe which is different from what I identify as my energy when in ego. Clairity is a they rather than a she, if I chose to associate Clairity with today’s identification standards. With that said, I am also Clairity. I identify as a beautiful, kind, and loving woman, so, “she” or “they” it shall be, for now.
I have no idea what I am doing other than writing on a hope and a prayer. I am creating in faith. Blind, no idea what it is I am doing, faith.
This blog series I am writing is to share wisdom I receive from Clairity, with you, so that you can uncover hidden patterns within your own psyche. Our story may be different. Hidden patterns are often similar and can therefore be identified. A clue for your own life may be found within what I write about. That’s my goal anyway.
There are many layers to you. If you have ever uttered the words “you always…, or, I can never seem to…”, there is a reason. Further to that, you have your own perception that you had developed within your family, cultural environment, heritage, physical location, the generation you were born in, and so on. You know your life journey intimately. I do not. All I can do is share insight from Clairity, and the other divine influences in my life, with you, in hopes it helps you connect some dots in your own life. I do that by sharing my story from my earthly perspective. There is room for error. Please trust your own discernment as you journey on with me. Feel free to comment and correct any information which you have greater insight on. I love to learn so you would be doing me a favor. I only know what my brain tells me. I have much interest in yours as well.
Also, as mentioned in previous blogs, there is no blame and no shame in what you have done in life. This blog is for truthful exploration to develop a better understanding of yourself. The people I write about were my teachers and other reflections of God creation. They, like me, are winging life. They are not villains in my world. They are misunderstood souls. I blame no one whilst I continue to love them from a distance. All souls involved in my life helped me to discover what true love is for me. That is awesome in my book!
We are not alone as you and I, move through life. We are guided by unseen forces. You may not realize this. I didn’t fully grasp this either. Divine is with all of us, everyday. They watch with curiosity. They observe with keen interest. They cheer us on. They boost us up energetically when they witness us fall. Inspirational ideas can be a soft whisper from your ancestors to get you out of a funk or to pivot you into another direction. Similar to Clairity offering up blogging as a solution for my wonky fingers. I know my ego self would not have thought of blogging. Clairity helped me to come up with the idea. Your spirit team offers this same service to you. You have just as much access to unseen energy as I do. Provided you are open minded, receptive, and willing to identify your own energy over another source. Reading energy around you is a skill to develop. It’s entirely up to you of course. You are influenced either way. Gratitude is the key which unlocks the door for you to know when you are lovingly pushed by spirit. When you hold gratitude for your painful lessons, you master the game of life.
Kinda cool when you think about it. We are all designing our own play and we all have our own audiences whilst doing it. Both here on earth, and in the spirit realm. When Mia Angelou gave a message similar to this, “call on your ancestors. Call on all of them. Your aunties, your uncles, your grandmother, and your grandfather. Call them all when you need support. They are already with you so use them. Let them support you”.
As you follow along with me on my journey, you can receive golden nuggets for your own life. Also, to receive greater context of who is who, and how I came to be where I am today, I highly encourage you to start this series from day one, which is my first blog entry on the last page on my website. Doing so will allow what you read to make better sense. With that said, if you choose to start reading from here, fabulous! I am extremely pleased you’re with me. Happy reading my friend. Thank you for coming with me.
Clairity’s question pertaining to my love life had sparked my curiosity.
“What similarities are there within characteristics of your dad, two ex husbands, and Rosie?”, had given me great pause to think. How were they all similar? They seemed so very different on the surface.
I fought with thoughts towards Rosie. When Clairity entered the picture, I had only knew of two infidelities at that point. It hurt like hell at the time. When I was in anger stage of grief, I sent nasty projections towards Rosie. I had thoughts such as “how could you? You fucking idiot. You have no clue. You are blind to me. I did all that work for you, only for you to play me like a fool! You fucking narcissist!”.
I blamed him for everything, including my own choices in the beginning. I wasn’t ready to see my choices. I was only ready to learn about my toxic attractions.
“Clair, is having those thoughts helpful? Does expressing anger and hate towards Rosie help you feel better?, or, is it more that you want to hold onto the anger?”
I responded with a deep sigh, and said, “I know. You’re right. Thinking this way isn’t going to help me.”
Clairity then went on further to explain, “remember, we are all energy. When you think, you feel. When you experience emotions, you produce energy waves. You are like a moving satellite dish with a massive sound speaker. Your energy is a beacon of light and dark influences. When you express darker thoughts towards Rosie this way, you are sending him oppressive energy. This energy impacts Rosie significantly and without you realizing it. Cause and effect is still in law, even when ignorance is at play. This does not help Rosie to better understand himself, nor does it help you release toxic energy. In fact, you are creating more of it. Holding angry energy by creating blame adds to difficult challenges. What you create in the present then proceeds to affect your future. You collide with your thought creations in time.
Are you choosing a loving state to be in, or an angry state?”, Clairity bluntly, and lovingly asked.
“I choose to experience love” I responded softly. After taking a few deep breaths.
“Focus on discovering your patterns. Go back to my initial question”, Clairity directed.
I moved out of shock, denial, and anger. From that moment, I moved through waves of sadness and acceptance.
My dad is six feet, three inches tall, and an English man. I’m not certain as to where he was born in England. I know very little about my dad. My dad had dark brown, almost black hair at one time. His hair has since turned completely grey. My dad wasn’t so fit as he was naturally strong in stature. He towers over my mum who is only five feet, three inches tall. My dad is highly intelligent. He knew complex mathematics in his head. He didn’t require a calculator when he often gave the correct answers. He was also clair cognizant. My dad had the ability to know things without knowing things. He was also very handy. He was often doing home renovations for my mum when he felt up to it.
In addition to my dad’s handy work around the house, he also worked as an electrician. My dad oversaw a department within a factory, with several staff members. My dad loved his beer and his cigarettes. I can imagine his reasons. My dad often had heavy demands on him at work and sometimes at home. I am not so much a drinker. I smoked cigarettes. I started smoking when I was around fourteen. I currently vape. Until I am able to secure a health aid to eliminate toxins from my body with reduced side effects from withdrawal that is. I don’t fault my dad for his addiction choices. I would be hypercritical if I did.
My dad was also a risk taker to a degree. We immigrated to Canada after my dad accepted a recruitment offer to do so. He was scouted. We moved a few times for my father’s work advancements. My dad worked all hours during his on-call shifts. In my earlier years, if my dad wasn’t working, he was drinking beer whilst he watched one of his favorite t.v. shows which were M.A.S.H., The Big Bang Theory, and Benny Hill. If my dad wasn’t watching tellie, he worked on something around the house that my mother was on him about. My dad had a habit of always having a beer in hand.
This was such a habit that my brother and I knew when my dad had raised his empty beer bottle, it meant Craig or I was directed to get him a beer. My dad also smoked in the house. My brother and I had been exposed to cigarette smoke our entire lives. My mum, as strong as she was, overcame smoking by going cold turkey when my brother, Craig, and I had began elementary school. Choosing to quit smoking cold turkey like that is impressive as far as I am concerned. That takes a lot of inner strength that I do not currently possess.
Vaping is a difficult addiction for me to break. I affirm that a particular resource is made available to me via a medical prescription, and which I can afford. This medication assists in reducing nasty withdrawals which come from detox. That particular prescription helped me to quit my smoking habit successfully. I am confident it can aid in a gentler detox from vaping as well.
Had you met my dad five years ago, you would have met a non-smoking, non-drinking, seventy odd year old man, with missing teeth like me. I say five years ago because over the past five years, I have only seen my dad briefly on two separate occasions. I have no idea what he is like now. I can only assume. The only other thing I know about my dad these days is he lives with Leukemia at present.
I respected my dad’s work ethic. So much so, I overlooked how much work he left my mother to deal with around the house. On top of her full time day job at that. I also have little to no memory of him playing with me. I have no memory of him attending any of my school events, nor baseball games. I remember my mum attending some of my events. I don’t remember my dad there at all. I find myself pulling at straws to remember anything fun with my dad.
I do understand that trauma can rewire a person’s brain. With that said, I needed a better understanding. I needed clarity.
“What’s the reason I can’t remember fun times with my dad?”
I asked that question in my mind to be sent out to the astral realm. I was open to receiving guidance so Clairity responded.
“Your memory serves you correctly dear. There were occasions when you enjoyed times with your dad. Those times were camping and going to Santa’s Village”.
When you were camping, your dad was working during the week, and drinking on the beach, or at the campfire on the weekends, of the two week periods you went to Sandbanks Provincial Park in Ontario. When your parents owned a cottage, and with the exception of swimming in the lake, and nature exploration on your own, the cottage weekends you experienced were no different than living at home. Your mum and dad left you to entertain yourself”.
When we went to Sandbanks Provincial park in Ontario, my brother and I were with our mum most of the time there. My dad worked during the week. We hardly saw him.
Clairity continued, “during your holiday to Santa’s Village, your mum was attentive to you, whilst your dad was irritable without his beer and cigarettes. He also had a habit of rushing everyone through enjoyable moments. Your father’s impulse to satisfy his wants and needs became his priority over his family fun.
If you remember, your mum often felt rushed by your dad. You do remember him walking ten steps or so ahead of your mum, repeatedly? She would look at something for a few moments, only to turn around and not know where your dad went. Yes?” Clairity reminded.
“Oh, shit yeah. That’s true. My dad rarely, if ever, walked beside my mum. All three significant men in my life rarely, if ever, walked beside me”. That reminder gave me a sudden jolt of clarity. There are hidden patterns.
Clairity continued, “Those happy memories have some tainted spots. This makes it harder to remember them in a fond way. Your memory of him teaching you how to drive; what happened there?” Clairity asked with a soft undertone.
My dad had refused to take me driving ever again after he had chosen an area which was under construction to teach me how to drive his standard vehicle. My father said I was going to wreck his clutch and damage his tires with potholes I was hitting. My dad blamed me for reckless driving in a construction zone when I had no idea what I was doing. His choice in the environment had cast blame and ignorance onto me. My confidence plummeted because my dad told me I was reckless and inconsiderate of his vehicle. Perhaps practice in a paved parking lot would’ve been better? Would you agree? Said with a wink and a smile.
My dad never did take me out to learn how to drive again. Except to take me for my driver’s test. He only got in a car with me driving on rare occasions, and when I was much older.
Remembering this experience was a lightbulb moment for me. I had quickly jumped to several occasions with my past partners, where I was blamed through deflection and their lack of accountability. All three men in my past had chosen me to blame for their own decision making.
Clairity continued to prod. “Yes. Now go back further. What happened when you had helped your dad with different renovations in the house?”
I thought about it for a brief moment. There were several times I had helped my dad. I helped him bang out concrete and stone rubble to plumb in a bathroom in the basement. I helped my father with some bathroom piping, and with wiring a ceiling fan down a wall to a light switch in a new dining room he had built.
My father had little patience. He had no patience for line ups, stupid people, nor any foreigners. He especially didn’t have patience when he was working on something and it wasn’t going according to his plan. One particular harsh memory would be a ceiling fan installation.
“Clair would you do as you’re bloody told. Grab the wire and pull!”, my dad instructed.
“I am pulling it Dad. It’s stuck!”
My dad, inside a sweltering hot attic, had no time to waste. I understood his frustration. His words and approach still stung nonetheless. I couldn’t get the wire to budge.
“You’re grounded for life!”, my father yelled furiously.
I yelled back through the hole where the light switch socket would be. “Dad, I’m trying! The wire isn’t reaching. It’s snagged on something”
“Oh for fucks sakes. If I want anything done right, I gotta do it my bloody self. You’re useless”, he half yelled, half spoke.
My mother used to say that one often too. About my dad, and when referring to me or my brother. My dad would also say “you are as useful as three tits on a bull”. With that, my dad made his way into the new dining area, looked inside the hole, recognized it was in fact snagged, he yanked it, then proceeded to complete the job.
No apology necessary. No word of acknowledgment. No thank you for doing your best Clair. I simply walked away in silence. Feeling like shit.
“And the piping incident? What do you recall about that one?” Clairity asked.
Working with my dad in a new basement bathroom was interesting to learn, whilst equally painful to do. My dad had to solder two copper pipes together on the ceiling. He didn’t own a butt fusion to hold the two pipes together whilst he soldered. That was my job. As I held the pipes for him, hot droplets of metal kept burning my hands and arms. My dad just wanted me to keep still. He told me to have some thicker skin.
“Did your dad provide you with safety gloves? Was your safety a concern to him at that time?”
That was a good question Clairity had asked. As an adult today, and also a mum, I can confidently say, no, my safety was not a priority to my dad in that moment. Getting the job done was. My dad was okay with hot metal burning me. The pedestal I had placed my father on was beginning to wobble. Damn this is a tough pill to swallow.
Receiving revelations can be tiring sometimes. It takes a great deal of internal strength, resilience, and patience with yourself to maintain lighter energy within you. Quite often paths like these tend to create, and express denser energy. With everyone being entirely made of energy, the energy you are carrying affects people around you. When your own energy is low, you become less tolerant, and or, tolerable. It is for this reason, self isolation and due process are essential for your ability to break toxic habits. It is also for this reason many people find self reflection too daunting a task. With that, I usually took a day or two to continue with my reminiscent thinking. That was until I went for a walk with Liv.
When it comes to a healthy child development, Liv has a learned knowledge through her education and her life experiences. She teaches me through her perception and learned insight. I love her for it.
“Babies bond with their dad through physical play.”, Liv explained.
I didn’t know that before she told me.
Liv then went on to say “yeah mum. Masculine energy is grounded, safe, intellectual, and knowledgeable in the material realm. They are recognized as the family provider as it relates to material gain. They show care and love through provisions and adolescent gaming with their children. Children bond with their dad this way.”
Liv went further on to explain, “children bond with their mother through their mum’s ability to nurture and guide them. That’s the reason, when a child is hurt or feels their big emotions, they call for their mum. Their emotions are safe with mum. Playtime is with their dad.”
Well that made perfect sense to me.
“That’s probably part of the reason you feel abandoned by Grandpa. It may be part of the reason you have little memory involving fun times with him, and is perhaps the reason you feel unloved by him?”, Liv suggested.
Liv is fabulous with insight. She gave me pause to think. I connected some dots in my mind, thanks to her beautiful knowledge. I never felt like I truly bonded with my dad. This loss created an obsessive craving inside me. I longed for masculine affection. All the while, I had subconsciously believed men are supposed to walk ten steps in front of me. Because that was what I was worthy of. That was normal.
Interesting indeed.
After I had thought about how little involved my father had in mine and my brother’s child rearing, I became curious as to how that linked to my first husband, Albert. In my mind, Albert was vastly different to that of my dad.
“Yes Clair, contrast differences between your dad and Albert are apparent. There are some hidden similarities. Let’s have a look at some.”
With that, I headed through a new door. Down yet another intriguing rabbit hole. Holy shit! Who knew? I sure didn’t. I do now!
LivWithClairity 