I M Perfect lady

"I write because it makes me feel like someone is listening – Or am I listening to myself."

 

I love this quote and I don't know who said it.

 

What I do know is that I began writing in earnest when I was the most lost.

 

I was in a body, in a life – in relationships, I was a mother and a wife – and I didn't know who I was.

 

This was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time.

 

When I was writing, I was engaging with what I called my mental lady – my mind – and trying to find a Me that was not tainted with my childhood religion or the affects of abuse – or even just programming that comes with living in this world.

 

Could I find myself, when I didn't know who I was or where I had gone missing?

 

I am amazed I was any semblance of an adult –

I had to look up "semblance" to see if that was the correct word to use.

"the outward appearance or apparent form of something, especially when the reality is different. "she tried to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order"

 

It is the perfect word. Especially when I was living different from the reality of my truths.

 

I am not certain I can accurately describe the vast chasm of unknown – and me and the mental lady – trying to make sense of the senseless.

 

This mental lady was who I had been for 46 years and the writer was who I was becoming  began dialoguing and arguing over who was the real me.        I felt like a fledging little bird compared to the wily mental lady.

It seemed not a fair fight, for the new me was so small , unsure and bewildered – the mental lady had strength of not her own conviction – and was backed by family and church.

 

Our playground or battlefield was on the blank sheet of paper.  

Without pencil and paper, I fear the mental lady would have won.

 

The strength of her brainwashing, the fear laced shame of abuse – was a powerful duo to contend with.

 

Especially when inside of me was a newly seen abused little girl.

 

A part of me was writing to empower that little girl and for her to become free.

 

Often when a choices was tough to make, I would visualize how it would be to the wounded girl inside of me.  Then, the choice was easy.

 

Many more hard choices were made – and the little girl inside of me grew strong as I listened to what she wanted/needed and gave her love, peace and joy.

 

I look back fondly at those early years of being a fledging – doing battle with a brainwashed mind – and feel pride.

 

Try talking sense to a person who's been under the spell of brainwashing – or better yet try changing them or debunking their beliefs – THAT is what she was up against.

 

Writing helped free me from my brainwashed mind.

 

It perhaps was one of the most powerful tools I used to get me to walk hand and hand with reality.

 

I am no longer fledging – but very secure in who I am.

 

I still use writing – which is now on this blog – anytime my mind can't leave an idea alone. When my mind is restless and it keeps pulling me from the reality of now – I am drawn to the blank page.

 

What I recall too is how the wily mental lady was always so righteously right. And, I was often afraid to begin writing for I didn't know what I would have to do.  What choice I would be forced to make.

 

Yet the writing always gave me a choice that was true for me.

 

When it was true for me – I always felt at peace with the choice – even when that choice brought serious consequences.

 

What the fledging bird within me wanted most of all, was to be true to my feelings and emotions.  I wanted to be in sync with my body, mind and spirt. 

 

Writing was the vehicle – and my mental lady and I were on a journey to see which one of us would survive the ruthlessness of the pencil.

 

 

Me, Myself and I – on a journey to find the truth.