A Cosmic Essay on Shadow Inheritance, Liberation, and the Real Work of Healing the Root
Before you enter this space, detach from my story. Let the universe point you instead to what’s yours to see. This isn’t about my mother. It isn’t even about mothers alone. This is about you, the reader whoever that is, and the stories you’re still wearing that may not even be yours. If you’ve stumbled on this post, it’s not an accident. The interconnectedness of this cosmic web ensures that every word we read, every mirror we meet, every pain we confront — it’s here for a reason.
So take what’s yours. Leave the rest. But listen close.
The Hero and the Parasite
There’s a particular grief — a cosmic grief — in realizing the person who shaped your resilience was also the source of your deepest distortions.
For me, that was my mother.
She was the hero. She led our family across countries. She made physical survival possible. She was a warrior in the flesh.
But she also weaponized her fears.
She projected her suspicions onto me, punished me for emotions that weren’t mine, and imprinted her pain into the roots of my becoming. There’s a strange duality in being both the chosen child and the scapegoat — in being admired for your strength and punished for your sovereignty.
I’ve been battling with the echo of her. Her love and her shadows. Her wisdom and her wounds. And the thing is… admiration without full witnessing becomes idolatry. Pedestals are dangerous altars. We build them so tall we forget we are the ones climbing them.
And when they crack — as they must — we don’t just watch the idol fall. We fall with them.
Mirror to the Root: Reclaiming the Self
I was living in her shadow, but I didn’t realize I was also housing it. And anyone who came too close… likely felt the burn. To anyone caught in the projection range of that illusion of light — I take sacred responsibility. I glorified the strength I saw in her without holding myself accountable for the parts of her I had inherited, internalized, and unconsciously transmitted.
We all do this.
We all carry ancestral assignments — some conscious, some not. But the question is: Are we doing the work of transmutation? Are we being honest about where the original code came from?
My root chakra was the final tether. The place of inherited confusion. I thought it had to do with my own sexual relationships, one could say, weirdly enough, our sexual relationships have more to do with our parents than we think, though we might view them as completely separate from each other, as who would like to think our mother or father had anything to do with the ways we use our bodies.. Trust and believe, it felt just as sour to feel it, before I realised it.
Root distortions trickle into everything. They’re what make us chase money without vision. Stay in relationships that look right but feel wrong. Make choices based on physical safety rather than soul alignment. For years, I confused resonance with reciprocity. I would mirror what others wanted from me, because I felt their intentions in my field — and unconsciously acted on their desires, not mine.
Until I met my own.
The Great Earthquake of Self
Just yesterday, the 18th, the universe gave me a crystal-clear glimpse of an old version of me. A version that would have accepted attention, advances, affection — even in silence — because I was wired to respond before I was taught to discern.
The only reason as to why the date is relevant is because, everything in life has a numerical meaning archetype to it:
18 = 9
- Number of completion
- Number of Death before Rebirth
- In the 7 Pillars of Life: 9 resonates with the Vision of the 2nd Octave cycle, to see clearer.
- An 11 year process for me
Esoteric Vibration: Her unfulfilled potential
- A balanced feminine-masculine energetic imprint: Stella (yin, cosmic) and Wright (yang, structural).
- Could symbolize Divine Union in action — co-creating reality with love and clarity.
My Potential:
But I don’t respond this time around. I don’t just react. I witness. And in that witnessing, I choose myself. And in choosing myself I make moves with clarity of direction.
I finally saw how the root patterns of my past had nothing to do with love, desire, or worth. They were simply echoes of the furthest my mother had taken liberation — physical survival. She made it to the physical world, but not much further. So that’s where I began my rebellion.
And it was in the emotionally-naked walls of my room, that I met my greatest love. The love for our Consciousness’ minds. I lived the Hermit life, learning about Philosophies, Greek Mythologies, Psychologies, all in the hopes of understanding the people around me, so that I could explain to myself, why I felt so out of space in what was supposed to feel like home.
Now, I reclaim the rest.
The mental stability she couldn’t model — I build it.
The emotional attunement she lacked — I embody it.
The spiritual alignment she feared — I claim it.
Not in spite. Not to prove anything. But to honor the path that raised me by walking further.
To some it might have been the mother, to others it might have been the father.. either way, we all have our load of flour from the past, gained by our grains being grated, all in the direction of creating our own loafs of bread.
Transmuting Legacy: From Pain to Portal
To those who see themselves in this:
Your wounds are not betrayals of your lineage — they are opportunities to complete what your ancestors began. We are not meant to repeat the story. We are meant to alchemize it. That’s the mission of the awakened ones — to do what was previously impossible through love, awareness, and deep, uncomfortable truth.
What your caretakers could only model in the body — you now have the capacity to elevate through the mind, refine through the emotions, and spiritualize through your sacred yes to evolution.
This isn’t just healing.
It’s quantum liberation.
The Cosmic Pedestal: Why It Must Die
We must stop worshiping our mentors, parents, lovers, teachers, or heroes without discernment. When we place people above us, we are denying our own throne. Pedestals are illusions that disguise pain as perfection. And when the illusion breaks, we don’t just see their flaws — we see how deeply we abandoned our own sovereignty.
Whether to prove them wrong, or loudly sing “Hey Look Ma I Made It” at 11pm to the top of your lungs in the hopes she’d hear it wherever she was… the point stands. Good thing for thick walls.
Love people for who they are and what they failed to be.
This is the sacred paradox of spiritual maturity.
Closing Transmission
I’m not angry at my mother. I’m not even disappointed. I’m grateful. Because her limits gave me my wings. Her shadows built my discernment. Her absence created the silence in which my soul could speak louder.
And now that I hear it, I can never unhear it.
To anyone who has ever lived in someone else’s image — may this be your permission slip to shatter the frame.
To anyone who’s still echoing inherited narratives — may this be your call to remember: the story doesn’t end there.
To anyone afraid of disappointing the person who raised them — may you know that your evolution is the deepest form of respect.
Ascension is never in spite. It is always in honour.
We honour best by becoming what they could not yet become.
We reclaim our roots by liberating the seed.
We get to live the life they’ll forever witness through our eyes.
🌀 With depth,
A soul in constant re-rooting,
Susan
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