I M Perfect lady

One of the side effects of a recovering person from denial, is how I need things to make sense.  I can no longer overlook incongruity. My mind isn't a rest until it knows the whole picture.

I am looking to find definition and gain a clear picture. 

I am not sure how often there are exceptions to the rule, but more often than not, the rules rule.

And, the exceptions are often red flags.

The dissonance that will shatter an image.

Often in families where abuse lives, there are images we need to keep.  It is the coverup to what is really going on.  We don't present to the world the whole truth, we keep our wounds hidden behind the facade of being normal and okay.

I lived in this wonky world for 46 years, where the facade lived as me. It wasn't me, just the image of Me.  

A cleaner version.

A flat shallow self.

And, she didn't make sense, looking back.

It was only when I knew the truth about my family of origin, did I make sense.

Living life for 46 years denying the truth of being abused, had me living awkwardly at best.

I was detached from my emotions, and expansiveness of choice.

Once the truth was known, and I embraced my wounded little girl, was I able to drop the shield (Image) and just be me.  

This one very pivotal moment in my life showed me how gravely important it is to get the full picture and to not overlook the one exception.

I am now an exception.

The one unforgiven, the one story that hasn't been fully accepted by my brother.

He wrote a book, and is in the very early stages of promotion.

It is a book about the time he and I spent oodles of hours talking, and exploring, and seeking to find reality, and ways to rework life's patterns of being raised in an dysfunctional home.

His book is mainly his blog. "The Little Boy in the Red Sweater – My journey through sexual abuse."

The incongruity is where am I now?

How did I go from being the one who helped him through the darkest periods of life, to silence?

What did I do?

Our silence hasn't included dialogue to clearly explain to me, where I went wrong.

What was it that kicked me to the curb?

What did I say exactly that was so unforgivable and how is his story of me more powerful than who I am?

And even more, why has he been able to reconcile with the rest of his family?

How is it that I am unreconcilable?

What are my sins and assaults towards him.

And, how does his image of being so forgiving, not include me?

I am the one stick poking out.

I don't make sense in his otherwise healing image.

It is odd to be the odd man out. 

What I have learned is that when the bird and the book disagree, believe the bird – as the Audubon bird book explains.

Strange bedfellows is another phrase that we use to explain the unexplainable. 

I looked that up and found this.

“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."

How interesting.

Does this explain the other saying "Misery loves company"?

All I know is that I am still outstanding from my family.  A book is written, the sentiment is healing/forgiving and accepting the story of who they are and not his story of who he needs them to be.

And, here I am.

Alone.

While I am out here, his book doesn't make sense.

To me.

The years we spent together, the talks we had and the topics we discussed, wasn't heading in the direction he ended up. It all feels inharmonious.

It was as if he did a 360 and ended up where he once began. Except he left me behind.

His blog I had read in real time during the crisis of that day.

His book is an echo from the days back there.

I know the broader landscape upon which it was written, but I don't know where or how it ended.

I am suspended in a moment in time.

Silenced out and space was granted to me.

In an interview, he said he asked for space from his family for his healing.

I wonder why he needed space from me.

I am the exception to the rule.

I am the irreconcilable piece in our relationship.

 

When folks get a divorce over irreconcilable differences, we think it is things. Mostly, I am sure it is that someone feels the other as being incongruous.

Their lives are no longer in harmony.

Someone has changed.

It is true, I am the one person in my family of origin who is no longer like the others.

I no longer fit into their lives, for personal reason, most didn't share with me.

Yet, I am okay. 

I am okay being at odds with others.

I am not okay being at odds with myself.

I lived far too many years in dissonance with Me.

I love who I am today, so much more.

I live in harmony with my little girl.

 

I wish my brother well on his new journey of being an author.

He is the author of his blog, his book and his life.

As we all are.

May your life be empty of discrepancy.