I M Perfect lady

What I discovered in telling my story is that people get lost in their own lives while listening…lost in trying to defend and discern if my story matches theirs.

It isn’t being told to match yours, it is merely being told…yet while you are busy trying it on for size, you miss what I am saying…you can’t hear me as you are fitting my words into your world and tossing out the ones that don’t fit.

As the author of this story and the one who experienced my life, I felt the desire to share what I had lived through or more importantly what I had falsely believed in and was putting it down on paper to find my truth. 

What I had not counted on was that people would try on my truth of for size, to see if it fits their own experiences and then say it isn’t so.

I wonder if that is how I listen, to see if it fits in my truth, do I hear others, or do I immediately feel threatened by their story if it clashes with mine?

It leaves me to wonder, what words another could say that would threaten my world…how another’s experience would unravel my world…what could they possibly say that would start a second avalanche?

I guess I expected questions or folks who were interested in knowing more, but I hadn’t expected others would try on my experiences and call them fake. 

It is the resistance against what I am saying that feels so out of place. 

The defense of the Church, the defense of the people, the defense of the family, defense of the siblings…and the defense against their practices of handing their sins over to Jesus, all the while unknowingly discounting my story as they are so busy in their defense.

This rooting around in their defense drowns out my words and leaves me unheard. 

It is like talking to someone who is paying attention to something else, and they are.

They are worried about their worlds.

I wonder if we all do that?  If we all have our very own sets of truths and protect them while not paying attention to others.

I just hadn’t considered that in speaking out that the facts and truths of what I discovered would be tried on and then tossed out, if it didn’t match their files.

Somehow, I naively believed that I would have the ears of listeners, and not truth fittings.

What I feel most, is that a child who is asked to tell the truth about an abuser would face the same kind of treatment, where their words would not be brought in as sacred truths, but rather items to be tried on for size. 

A child can discern, as I have, the ears who listen with compassion or the ones who are merely trying on their truth and kicking it to the curb in order to maintain their own lifestyle.

Perhaps my ears have become more open the more open I am with my own truths.

I can only gauge others by how they grab my truths and try them on, and then how quickly I am discarded…or received.

I have been taking this personal, trying to say things more eloquently, softly, with class, trying to make the presentation prettier, kinder, nicer, more convincing and it is all for naught.  For it isn’t my truth with the issue, but their lifestyle…my truth just doesn’t fit in. It is ill fitting in their worlds.