The Voice Hidden Within Me: A Journey of Discovery and Healing Your Heart

By Linda Hayes

Professional success didn’t quiet her hidden voice. That voice followed her and screamed loudly until she discovered it and found the source. Once her younger-self and adult-self united with understanding and love, healing came.

About The Voice:
-Began in childhood while facing challenges as a child of immigrants...
-Acted out as a troubled youth...
-Imprisoned her while living in poverty as an abused woman...
-Deceived her as it hid undiscovered yet ruled her actions and relationships...

This honest and heartfelt story will make you cry and laugh. It shows courage and resilience intertwined with deep family love each and every time trials were overcome.
This is a story of transformation from digging deep within to find answers and put the life puzzle pieces together. The experiences and discoveries can help you to look within and transform too.
This book is for women, men, young adults, and everyone who has felt the pain from a broken heart and broken spirits in their lives or those close to them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Hayes
• Release date: Jan 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988545328

Linda Hayes

Linda is an author, educator, trainer, and businesswoman but more importantly a mother, friend, and leader. Her journey as a single mother on welfare rising above tremendous obstacles motivated her to write.The discovery of her inner child and its false voices yielded lessons and life changes. Her world was shaken apart then healing came after breaking the chains from her limiting inner voice.Circles of Life became Circles of Change propelling her into a new found freedom of mind, body, and spirit.It is her deep intention and desire to share her discoveries with you and the world. May her words encourage and help you bring joy, healing, peace, and love into your life and those you love

Book preview

Foreword

This book is written for everyone seeking peace and love in their lives. It is for the sisterhood of women, their children, their mates, their loved ones, and all people worldwide who seek truth and desire the best life possible.

In each of us is a voice hidden deep within that holds our deepest fears, anxieties, and insecurities. This voice can color our self-views, our relationships, and our actions. Its truths are really false ideas, formed from past experiences that left traumatic residue inside our inner being. It cloaks itself like a master of deceit–often completely forgotten or only partially recalled, well hidden from our conscious minds.

My journey has been a long one with the light of discovery appearing late in life. My wish is to use my experiences as a catalyst for you to find your light of discovery and heal yourselves. Healing is not limited by age, education, geographical location, financial status, or religious beliefs. My particular story may be very different than yours but that same hidden voice lives in all of us. Look beyond the circumstances and heartbreaks of my life and glean the life lessons that led me to my newfound wisdom and the healing of my heart. My life story is only a vehicle to share the lessons I have learned.

Join me on the journey of discovery of the voice hidden within. Gather the life lessons you read and use them bountifully for yourself. Use your newfound wisdom to heal yourself and find real peace. Share your light of wisdom with others and you will truly be fulfilled.

Introduction

I am Celeste Madrigal, a woman with many facets, faces, a Warrior Queen. My creative talents have always been through the arts; sculpture, dance, music; but never writing. Writing has now become my artistic medium to convey my thoughts, ideas, and feelings in a more concrete way. I have felt compelled to write as though I have been entrusted to write a story to encourage and motivate all who read it, especially women like me. I now realize that I have something to say, something to share, something to give you through my penned words and experiences. The words flow through my mind, compelling my very spirit to share them with you, my dear readers. I’ll tell you about a journey that took years to travel. It is a journey that never ends but merely covers chapters and levels of lifetime events that have brought me to the place where I am today. The road and path is ever changing with new understanding and new insight each hour, each day, each month, and each year.

My friends, family, and acquaintances have said after hearing about my life that I should write a book. I heard this more times than I can count, but dismissed their suggestions. But the seed was planted. The idea grew until I was unable to ignore it. The desire to share my thoughts became so intense that to ignore it any longer was impossible.

I invite each of you to read, listen, visualize, and feel this journey I’ll take you through. We will experience the joys of life and the depths of the darkest days; only to emerge into the light of day again. Each metamorphosis–dark to light–seemed like a miracle as it happened. Every miracle grew larger and larger as the light got brighter in my life until understanding and healing occurred.

It has taken me over four years to write these thoughts and complete this testimony of life. The writing was not difficult, but I paused when life was good. When life events twisted my very spirit, I would remember my path and begin writing again. As I poured out my heart I began to realize that this task must be finished, not only for my own peace, but for you, to give you the gift of hope and shared spiritual blessings.

As I write this I realize that after each period of non-writing I have become another person. Each time-gap enabled me to gain insight to share with you. I am so excited to share every single experience with you through my eyes, heart, and soul. I hope that my penned words will open up the world to you as my world opened to me through everyone who has touched my soul.

If I can help you, my very dear readers, to find the strength to succeed, a lost smile, or a positive outlook, I will have succeeded with my purpose. I encourage you to look to your future holding your heads up full of hope and positive energy. Take my hand and come with me as I describe the long journey that has lead me to success and who I am today. The light shines brightly for all who dare to believe and trust.

PART I - GROWING UP

Chapter 1 - Who Am I?

"When you are inspired by some great purpose, some extraordinary project, all your thoughts break their bonds: Your mind transcends limitations… and you discover yourself to be a greater person by far than you ever dreamed yourself to be."

§ Patanjali (1st to 3rd century B.C.) § (i)

When people look at me today they see an educated, intelligent, professional woman with a successful and prestigious career. They also see an honest, down to earth lady who acts rather casual, likes to dance and have fun. I carry myself as an open person with a practical outlook on life and life situations. I have mastered this outward appearance very well. However, those who have known me for some years can tell when this facade fails by the sadness they can see deep within my eyes.

A month ago I saw a friend from my past. During our animated and magnetic conversation, he said he was enamored with my smile. My heart pounded as I heard these sweet words because I had never forgotten our first brief meeting some five years earlier. I still felt the warm attraction to him and his entrancing smile. He said, You had the saddest eyes I had ever seen. The sadness dominated your aura but when you smiled it seemed to light up the whole room! He added, Now I see this light in you and all around you, your smile is entrancing. His observations made a huge impression on me because another longtime friend said the very same thing to me a few days earlier. She called me the lady with the sad eyes. I thought to myself, five years ago I didn’t know how to put on my false face well. But NOW I am the master of disguise! Then her next words surprised me as she said, Celeste, I can always tell when things are not going well with you because that same look fills your eyes. This was the look I wore during the worst periods of my life. I would have to work harder at perfecting my disguise to ensure the safety of my heart.

For the most part, people around me only saw the successful and professional woman calmly walking through life. My disguise was convincing most of the time. I had learned not only how to put on a false face, but how to keep people from getting too close to me. Once I let a person come close, my shield dissolved and the invincibility I portrayed vanished. In my mind I then became vulnerable and could be easily wounded. Have you ever felt vulnerable and unprotected like me?

In years past, the inner voice I heard screaming with the false mantra, I am not good enough and, I do not fit in vibrated through my entire inner being with mind, body, and spirit. These words would overcome me when I was at a party, a conference, or social gathering where there were people I did not know. It whispered ever so softly but with the force of a sharp sword that the things it said were true and I believed it each and every time! The fear would rise through the pit of my stomach into my heart and dominate my spirit and mind as I believed those untrue words and held them tight as truth. Have you heard your inner voices? Did you believe them like I did?

I am a woman with a big kind heart–my dominant quality. I have come to realize that this heart quality is a grand blessing from our Creator. I am able to forgive more easily, let go of anger more readily, and keep resentment away from me. The kindness has kept bitterness and resentment from tearing into my life and destroying my very soul.

I am a woman with emotional, physical, sexual, and spiritual needs just like you. But my needs have been ignored, hidden, and disguised by me for most of my life. I have become the great wizard with a chameleon-like appearance, convincing all those around me that my needs are nonexistent, or at least second to their own. I have become a superwoman, totally independent, needing no one.

I am a child full of fears, insecurities, and untruths–learned early in life and buried deep within me. This inner child cries out my untrue mantras that were learned as early as five years old. Dee Dee, my inner child, has controlled my actions in the most intimate relationships throughout my life. Then, with her magician-like quality, she hides deep inside me and erases her existence from my mind, like a child hiding from some mistake they made in fear of punishment.

I am a mother in every sense of the word–a caretaker, provider, sounding board, nurturer, and loyal supporter of my children and those I love. I have multiple roles as a mother including stern disciplinarian, companion, mild-hearted aide, and confidant. I have a hand that is outstretched to help my children in their times of need, never turning down their cries for help, no matter how old they have become.

I am a friend to those close to me. I open my heart and we let our souls intertwine like a mass of tangled string clinging together. I choose my friends carefully and am more satisfied with fewer, rather than too many.

I am a Warrior Queen, carrying the scars from battles I have encountered. The scars from spousal abuse, decades of severed family relationships, unfulfilled love, and a broken heart were weaved together to form my warrior shield.

I am an intellectual not in the common sense of the word. I study concepts to expand my mind, spirit, and soul. I am wise through the life experiences I have gathered throughout these years lived here on earth.

I am a magnet attracting truth seeking people, kind hearted people, and people with character just like you.

I am an accomplished professional as evidenced by my trade, a creative woman as seen from my art and surroundings, a wearer of many hats–smart with good common street-sense. I am an optimist choosing to believe in the good of all mankind. I am a child holding onto my Heavenly Father’s hand. I am a positive force attracting those with hearts like mine…I am me!

Chapter 2 - My Background

Youth is full of pleasure; age is full of care…

§ William Shakespeare § (ii)

I was born in Southern California to first generation immigrant parents from the Philippines. I was born in the month of the sign of Cancer. I married twice. I am a mother of five wonderful children. I am the proud grandmother of six.

My father was what was considered a white Filipino who was born, raised, and died in the Philippines. It was said that his grandfather was a fugitive from England who jumped ship in Asia for committing some serious crime. My father was a poor man with a sixth-grade education. He stowed away on a cargo boat as a young teen and traveled all over the world working as a shiphand. He was a very handsome man who stole the heart of the beautiful Josefina.

My mother, Josefina, was a Filipina from a family of renowned well-to-do land barons. She too was born, raised, educated, and died in the Philippines after having lived over a century. She was a well-educated woman with ancestry tracing back to Spain, where her forefathers had a family coat of arms and a town named after them. She was a very beautiful yet headstrong woman. This petite woman was barely five feet tall and slender, but her dominant personality overshadowed her small stature. She had brown eyes, smooth caramel skin, and black curly hair that framed her face, barely covering a sense of sadness that you could see in her eyes. Was this the same sadness I had in my own eyes, I wondered? Could heartfelt sadness be passed from one generation to another? Was I more like my mother than I wanted to be or imagined? Have these same questions raced through your mind at times?

Her childless widowed aunt raised Josefina from the time she was two years old. Her real mother had died and her father was a wandering musician. Her years with her adopted mother were bountiful in material wealth but meager in love and affection.

During the early and middle twentieth century, a couple such as my parents, an established young woman and a man of little means, must have been quite uncommon and terribly unacceptable. The Philippine society had social classes that were firmly defined and this couple crossed well-defined barriers. Was my mother a hopeless romantic, a rebel, or just a lonely girl looking for love? I am not sure if anyone can answer that question. I would dare to say that she was more the romantic than the rebel.

The onset of World War II changed the world. The Japanese occupation of the Philippines brought about severe changes and trials for those who lived there. Soon after the start of the war, my father was placed in a concentration camp in Manila. My mother’s wealth meant nothing in wartime. Philippine money was worthless, as the social structure and social status crumbled during the Japanese occupation of their country. Our ancestral home was taken over by the Japanese army and used as a military headquarters for the duration of the war. Fear and poverty filled the country. My mother and my oldest siblings, Antuan and Susan (who were born a few years before the war started), went to live with Mom’s older sister in Manila. My aunt, one of the middle children among the eight siblings, took on the role of provider and protector for the duration of the war. She cared for my family, her other siblings, and their families, until the war ended. Her strength and domineering spirit saved her siblings’ lives.

My father and his relatives had their own trials in a Japanese concentration camp. Foreigners, illegal immigrants, and people without legal residency papers were rounded up to spend years in this cruel prison camp. My dad was part of the latter group—those without legal residence documents. My dad was a man of medium stature, standing about 5’9. He would tell us I weighed 98 lbs. when I was set free from the camp. I was one of the lucky ones because many others did not survive… my father died there. He would get a distant look in his eyes each time he spoke of this ordeal. In a low, sad voice he would say We were so hungry that even though the small bowl of rice we received had wiggling maggots in it we would devour it…our daily ration was one small bowl of rice."

When I heard those stories as a child I would wonder how people in war could be so inhumane. Then as I look at the world today I feel the same amazement at the atrocities being committed in our so-called civilized 21st century. Surely we must have missed the mark and God’s purpose for his most wonderful creation–mankind.

After American troops liberated the Philippines in 1945, the American military offered my parents the opportunity to come to the United States for a new life. Would they stay in the land of their birth or begin elsewhere? They chose to come to the promised land of America. There my father would be able to become a legal resident and citizen. The atrocities of warfare made an indelible mark on the lives of all those who experienced it.

My parents relocated to San Francisco to begin their lives in this land of promise. Can you imagine the feeling they must have had when they arrived and their feet touched this foreign soil that was to become their home? Anticipation, relief, and hope for a new life mixed with sadness, sorrow, and loneliness must have filled their hearts. These mixed feelings must be shared by every immigrant who leaves their homeland looking for peace and freedom here in America. This pilgrimage continues for all those who make a similar trip to find a better life and fulfill a dream.

My twin brothers were born shortly after our family arrived in the United States, and I was born a few years later. Terrance and Clarence were outgoing boys who loved to laugh and joke with everyone they met. However, Terrance had a quiet, reserved nature at times that made you feel like he was hiding some great secret. This secret only manifested itself at times yet was still there.

We grew up poor because my father’s lack of education forced him to work low-paying jobs. He worked for an oil company loading oil barrels onto trucks. My mother was not used to working or running a household, having grown up with servants in the Philippines. Budgeting, cleaning, and cooking were hard for her. Can you imagine having to cook a meal, clean a house, wash, or even grocery shop when you have never done it before? My mom had to learn new skills and deal with her emotional turmoil and mental resistance to this new way of living.

When I was five, my mother found a job in a nearby factory. When she returned home from work she would cook our meals. I would see her tense face and hear her muttering under her breath How am I to do all this? I now know what my servants’ life was like. I wish I could go back home. I didn’t understand the meaning of her words but I sensed that she was unhappy. Her attention was divided among my brothers. Antuan filled her heart with worry and the twins filled her mind with turmoil. Terrance was sullen at times and Clarence would come home well after she returned from work, causing arguments and disciplinary actions. Her attention went to the boys as I faded into the background waiting for my turn to be seen, heard, and acknowledged.

My parents argued constantly over money, a messy house, and other problems, throughout my entire childhood in America. There never seemed to be enough money to make ends meet even though my grandmother sent money every month to help out. My mother became a great cook, making tasty inexpensive meals. Some of the same dishes she made for us then are now favorite dishes of my children. I learned that I needed to be self-sufficient to survive in our family. I started my self-sufficient course by grabbing cold leftovers for breakfast when I tired of oatmeal or corn flakes. Next, I learned to take two public buses to school by myself when I turned six. My mother bragged to everyone about my ability to take care of myself. I finally found the way to be seen and appreciated in my family was by acting independent and grown up.

There was a ten-year age difference between my oldest brother Antuan and myself. Antuan, was sickly both physically and emotionally, and demanded a lot of my parents’ attention. My father said my mother babied and smothered him. I would see him frowning and shaking his head when he spoke about Antuan. My mother would jump to defend her favorite son each and every time.

My sister Susan was strong minded, independent, and somewhat rebellious. Susan was tall and had beautiful brown skin, curly dark hair, and a very muscular and toned physique. She was the athletic one in the family and found her peace of mind in tennis, archery, and golf. Because of my brother’s sickly nature my sister became the resident gofer, taking care of any work that needed to be done at home.

I remember an event that became etched in my memory regarding my brother. A young neighbor boy was at my house as we played one afternoon. He whispered to me Why is your brother in his pajamas in the afternoon… is he sick? I always see him in his pajamas. I whispered back Yes, he is… he has been sick for a few months so he isn’t in school. What’s wrong with him? my friend asked. I had no idea; I was just five-years old, the youngest of my family. I didn’t know why he was sick but vividly remembered his striped pajamas. I found out later that he suffered from depression and was recovering from a nervous breakdown. A few months later he was gone. My parents didn’t tell me that Antuan was sent back to live with our grandmother in the Philippines. What I knew was that my favorite brother was gone and I felt that he had abandoned me.

My sister always felt like she was my caretaker. She would comb my hair before school and help me get dressed. Our mother left early in the morning for work so I viewed Susan as the one I could look to for help. Life at home was strained as fights between my father and Susan were frequent. Often Susan would whisper to me as I lay in the bed next to her at night, Celie, I am going out… put the screen back on the window after I go through it. I would wonder why she left through the window, while feeling proud that she needed my help.

One night there was a huge blow-up between my dad and my sister. It was late but I could hear my dad screaming and yelling and my sister crying. I was confused and scared and wondered why this fight was so much more intense than usual. A few days after this Susan quietly left through the window. I was in bed with my eyes slightly open as I heard her remove the screen. This time she did not ask for my help. I sensed that she did not want me to know she was leaving. I pretended to be asleep as she kissed me on the check and whispered before she left, I love you, Celeste.

The next morning I found out she had run away. I knew I should pretend to know nothing and that is what I did. I learned to play the role of the unseen one and to be quiet and invisible so I would not cause any problems. Susan never lived in our home again. Instead she lived with her girlfriend’s family until she graduated from high school. She never forgot me and would stop by to visit me. My heart cried out. I believed she had abandoned me.

It was hard to be without my sister. I had to learn how to comb my hair for school and do my homework without help. I was alone in our room and missed her company. One day at school the nun pulled me to the side. She said crossly, Look at you, why don’t you comb your hair… you look like a rag-a-muffin! Look at your hair. It is all matted and your ponytail is about two inches long… you haven’t combed it at all! You should be embarrassed. My heart was shattered as I heard her harsh words. Tears welled up in my eyes. My mom is at work and my sister used to comb my hair, but she is gone. I have to do it myself now. The incident hurt me and I felt the loss of my sister even more.

When I was in elementary school we moved back to the Philippines for a better life with my grandmother. She was a very rich woman who owned numerous sugar plantations, houses, land, and much more. Our hard life in America had taken its toll on our family, especially my mother. My grandmother offered us a chance at wealth and the comfortable life my mother was accustomed to living. We traveled across the globe to live in a new land, my parent’s former home. We journeyed by sea, it took a month to arrive in Manila. The trip was a grand adventure on an English ship that offered tea and crumpets for snacks, and deck games to entertain us. The excitement captured my soul as the ocean breeze blew on my face. I loved this great adventure! Susan stayed behind in America. I eagerly awaited my reunion with my beloved brother Antuan.

As I journeyed on our ship memories of America flooded my young mind. I recalled an event that changed my life. I was five years old as was my friend. One sunny afternoon Jack and I sat on a tall ledge in my yard swinging our legs back and forth as we ate a cold, sweet red Popsicle. Jack said, Where are your parents from? After I took a bite of my cold treat I answered, The Philippines. Is that where your brother went? Looking down at my feet I quietly said, Um… I don’t know. I didn’t like his question about my brother. It made me feel sad and uneasy.

All of a sudden Jack blurted out, Well, you are not an American! I replied in a loud strong voice, Yes I am. I was born here. Jack stood up and said loudly and smugly, NO, your parents are from another country so you are NOT an American! Your mom talks funny and you eat weird food. I felt as if the rock ledge where I sat was shaking. I tried to argue back but I didn’t know how to defend myself. I was only five years old and didn’t have the words or knowledge to prove that I really was just like him, an American.

I wonder why this incident made me feel so sad. The hidden voice was born as my inner child cried out I am not good enough and I do not fit in. This childhood experience that I recalled with vivid details left the emotional scars that haunted me.

Chapter 3 - Life in a New World

"Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power."

§ Laozi (570 - 490 B.C.) § (iii)

Adapting to life in the Philippines was really hard for me and my brothers. There were so many unwritten rules and familial expectations, and I didn’t know any of them. Instead I had the California lifestyle ingrained in my heart and actions. In the Philippines our family came from an old well-established clan, well known in our community. Our family name was respected and part of the so-called upper class. However, in the life we just left we were a struggling immigrant family. Our family name had no distinguished connotations attached to it. Quite the contrary; we were unknown and blended into the western world.

I was thrown into a world of old traditions, social snobbery, and class distinctions. When we first arrived we lived in a small town with my grandmother and Antuan. The town consisted of landowners who were mostly my relatives and local people who were employed by them. My Lola, grandmother in the local dialect, lived in our ancestral home built in the 1800s. I was thrilled to be reunited with my beloved Antuan once again.

La Casa Elegante, as we called it, was an amazing piece of architecture. Imagine a large Spanish style two-story