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Friday, March 18, 2016

My Story- The House That Built Me

My father's dream was to build a underground house. At the age of five we anxiously moved in. Inside there was a fireman's pole that my brother and I used instead of the stairs, a rec room where I'd spend hours rollerskating or dancing, a hallway that connected the bedrooms to the living room that my brother and I would spend our energy chasing each other in circles.

Outside we had trees to climb, woods to explore, two acres to ride our moped, a barn with a secret loft, and a hen house full of cats. We'd spend hours discovering which flowers were edible, catching fireflies in the summertime, sledding in the winter, and staring up at the night sky. It was magical and mystical- God revealing himself in every bird, flower, insect, or creature I'd come across.

The darkness crept in gradually. The night terrors, my mother holding a knife to her throat, and my brother throwing a knife at my head are just a few of the images that would haunt me for years to come.

We grow up in a environment and what we are subjected to becomes an extension of our personality. We develop attachments and responses to what we are exposed to as a child. We never think to analyze these experiences that have given shape to our perception of the world and our present personality. That's why inner work is so important. You must ask questions in order to discover the ego and then you can eliminate it.