To Be Heard, Believed and Loved.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to see my display with a girlfriend, one who has heard hours and hours of my life story, who is very close to knowing and understanding me, and yet…when she stood in front of my quilts, she began to see me more clearly…and was blown away by the story unfolding in my quilts.

By the fifth quilt, she was in tears.

I had her twin girls and we browsed the rest of the show to let her read, see and feel the display.

It is like a magical story line, an incredible unbelievable 7 year art project, created in the darkness and sometimes out of order.  Yet when it all together it reads like a novel, but is actually non-fiction and raw at its core. And even I, who created it, feel the incredulousness of it all.

How is it possible to show how it is when you don't know how it is.  

To know how insignificant you are, while not knowing it, yet create that image.

And to chronicle the journey unbeknownst to yourself.  It is like writing your memoir without writing it.

As we stood there, other women happened by.  I talked to a women, who listened and gave me a hug before we parted. She took a slip of the WIND info.

I have heard from the quilt ladies, that women want to buy the book, ask about what patterns I used…are talking how truthful and out there I am…  My Lady is causing ripples of conversations.

My friend didn't want to leave the display, she wanted to tell the new comers about the story, about the Lady and I.

It was good for me to go and to witness the reactions of women as they were stopped by My Lady.  I love that she demands your attention, she is hard to walk by. Even her beginnings are striking…with no woman present.

As I strolled through the rest of the show, I saw wonderful fabrics and patterns intricately pieced together with mountains of patience and time…and behind each piece stood a woman or man, trying to execute perfectly their vision.  I call these quilts normal quilts.  I never could do this.  It is very hard for me to follow a pattern, I get agitated and stressed trying to follow an exact way.  It doesn't feel good for me. I feel immediate rebellion.

What is so odd or not, is that following a pattern feels like a prison to me.

I am sure, coming from where I came, (cult like religion full of rules and regulations of what you can do and what is absolutely forbidden) I need a place to escape, and I choose quilting for my free expression.

And when my life fell apart and I wasn't able to express how I felt to those who I wanted to listen, I spoke in my quilts…my feelings were being expressed, I felt heard.

Abuse wants our silence, so this was another way to be outspoken.

I needed an avenue to be heard.

Now I am taking it to main street.

I love that my Lady has an audience.

I love that people stop and listen.

What all abused children need is an ear to hear, and eye to see and a hand to hold.

My Lady is holding court…her feelings are flowing forth, and she is getting a loving reaction.  No one can silence and ignore her now.

This is the wish of every abused child….to be heard, believed and loved.