I M Perfect lady

Author: bjukuri

  • Upon His Knee.

    It would be nice if it were all lies, just a made up story, a figment of my imagination, as an email suggests.

     

    ‘you are FEEDING your anger with LIES. Just to carry on the hated/evil.’

     

    The lie I told was that my mother stayed in the same house as my father while in Texas, I guess I was wrong.  She was in the same neighborhood, just not the same house.

     

    I don’t know if she spent time with him or seen him or anything, all I knew is her destination was the same as his.  Okay, I get it ….  I was wrong.

     

    I was wrong about that.

     

    Yet what they fail to realize is that I am not looking to be fed, nor am I creating lies to fuel an evil to carry it on, the evil is being carried along by them, not me.

     

    The wonderful technology of Facebook reveals to me in pictures that don’t lie.

     

    My father is posing with his granddaughter, grandson and newest little great granddaughter, with captions of ‘grandpa’.

     

    The sender of the email is standing at his side.

     

    What they fail to notice is that THEY are the ones who allow another little girl in his presence.

     

    I am not the one who is allowing this, but the one who is trying to tell them not to trust this old grandpa man.

     

    I sent an email to the lady of the house where my father lives, informing her that I will be contacting the Family Independence Agency in their town letting them know, a child is in danger.

     

    The family can’t see the danger and while they are blind to it, the danger continues on to another generation, the third. 

     

    I thought they knew who they had in their homes, the picture tells me they have no idea.

     

    They think I am the one, who keeps this sordid tale alive, that I am the creator of this sad little tune, but little do they know; they are the ones who sing the chorus line.

     

    They think I drum up new little lies to keep their world a mess, while they are looking at me, HE is looking at his newest littlest victim, waiting for her to ripen to the perfect little age.

     

    My anger, my hate, my evil they believe I carry is the opposite.  I care enough to try and wake them up.

     

    Hate me, be angry with me, and lose your respect for me that is fine, I will do my best to keep his hands off another little girl.

     

    The picture is the picture of denial.

    Denial is seeing a grandpa where a pedophile stands.

     

    He looks the same.

    Harmless.

    Old.

    Familiar.

    Himself.

     

    What I needed the most way back when, was someone to alert the family, someone to protect me from this man.  I can now be that person to the newest little girl to join our family tree.

     

    I will be the one who tries to stop the spread of his disease from touching her.

     

    Perhaps her grandmother will now take heed, pay attention when it is her first grandchild who sits upon HIS knee.

     

  • Happy 4th of July

    I have one week away from home and all the duties it requires, one week to be a guest on earth, and maybe that is what we need to practice more and more.

     

    I am looking forward to a week with just my husband, a week where we can both be free of other duties as required, a week of just wandering around doing what we love to do, being a kid again, but with a car and money!

     

    Books to read, my journal to write, a camera, a tent, a few chairs, and we are good to go.

     

    Fun to feel free on Independence Day, Happy 4th of July!

     

     

  • The Key

    “Dostoevsky wrote that the best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison. Many of us live this way, not even knowing how desperately we are trapped by the stories we tell to make sense or our experience.  Once these stories are in place, we choose, modify, and twist new experiences to fit our expectations.  What we think of as the “truth” is actually an elaborate and deliberate fiction composed by our minds.  Realizing that our story is really arbitrary, that there are infinite other stories that may be every bit as accurate, opens the prison door of your belief system, allowing you to walk out if you so choose.” 

     Martha Beck, The Joy Diet

     

    What I find so intriguing about denial, the mind and the way our beliefs hold us prisoner in our own lives, is that we don’t know we are in prison, so we don’t try to escape!

     

    This failing to escape keeps us held prisoner.

    Failing to try to climb the prison walls, to challenge our unchanging lives, our unexplored and untried experiences, we sit in our lives never attempting to push out the walls.

     

    I see this as another way to look at denial, when you can’t tell if you’re in the jail or outside.

    As I go about my days, the more choices I have to say yes and to say no is a huge indicator of being in jail or out.

     

    I am astounded that so many believe they are free when they are not.

     

    The ultimate denial is in the fabric of your being; the upbringing and being raised in a belief system that holds you prisoner and you don’t even know it.

     

    Denying you are a prisoner is the key.

     

    The key that locks your life away from you.

     

     

     

  • Awareness of Self

    It is interesting to me that when you see someone in denial you automatically think that they just need to see reality.

     

    What is a much deeper problem is the ways in which they have lived to ‘not see reality’.

     

    And it is from there that you begin.

     

    You don’t need to see what is in reality; you need to see what you are doing to cover up reality.

     

    It is the cover up that needs to be explored.

     

    The cover-ups can be dismantled by doing as Martha Beck suggested, begin telling the truth no matter what.

     

    Instead of ‘hiding’ the fact that your eating is out of control, face the fact that it is.  Name it to claim it, is a term Dr. Phil has used.

     

    As I explored the affects that sweets had on my body, and how I overindulged them, and how they left me empty of the very thing I thought I was getting, love, I knew I was on to something.

     

    I loved sweet treats.  I felt good eating them, yet the final out come was not love or good.  I had an overweight body that was sluggish and one that I didn’t like.

     

    My life style of indulging in sweets and looking for opportunities to ‘treat’ myself, and them giving me something wonderful, really gave me the opposite.

     

    Denial is not recognizing what the affects of ‘treating’ your self is actually doing.

     

    You somehow just have a thirst for sweets, and feel you deserve the treat, but never look at the actual almost scientific reading of the outcome.

     

    Denial is a twisting rope that never allows you to see all sides at once.  You can either see the thirst or the bloated body….

     

    Once I decide to stay awake for both parts, to watch the sweets going in and I didn’t tell myself a limit, I ate as many as I could, but I also had to monitor myself during and after.

     

    Denial seems be cured by being truthful on all sides, there is no side that will slip away.

     

    It is refreshing to be honest, to expose the secrets of understanding how you operate and why, it allows you to be free of the unexplored agendas that you have somehow overlooked.

     

    Once I understood that the sweets didn’t really bring me good feelings, I was able to sit with what they really were.  What they were comprised of and what they really did to the body.

     

    Denial is the doorway that will lead you to full awareness of self.

     

     

     

     

  • Your Diet Today

    As I did yoga today I was reminded of where all the unexpressed emotions lay, the container that holds them when I lived a short distance from my body, is my body.

     

    What has always been true and will always remain true, is even if you mind doesn’t allow you to stay in reality, we haven’t found a way to take our bodies out of it.

     

    Our heads only live in denial; it is like the phrase, ‘get your head out of the clouds’.

     

    I am reading “The Joy Diet” by Martha Beck.

     

    Her book contains instructions for a different kind of “diet,” one designed not for the body but for the soul.

     

    “When the word diet first entered the English Language, back in 1656 when I was a little girl, it didn’t refer to food intake.  It meant “a way of living or thinking.”  A few decades later, diet also came to mean “a day’s journey.”

     

    Her first technique is to do 15 minutes of day of nothing. 

     

    The second one is to be truthful.  Imagine this is the chapter I read last night.

     

    “The practice of telling ourselves the truth is so simple and so freeing that you’d think we’d all do it constantly. The fact is, however, that most of the people tell themselves the truth only in selected areas, and many of us lie to ourselves and others about practically everything we experience.  Why? Because living behind a pane of glass, numbing and empty though it is, also feels safe.

     

    …in 1992 and the years that followed, I realized that the simple, small truths of my real thoughts and experiences were the keys that unlocked the dungeon doors for my true self.  Trying to stop telling them would have been like trying to give up oxygen.

     

    This was an almost inexpressibly painful period of my life, but as it drew on, I began to feel intensely, vividly alive.  Prior to that time, I ‘d had no idea so much joy was even possible.  I’ve watched in pain and pride and dozens of my clients have taken the same kind of plunge, determining to tell themselves the truth, no matter what, then opening up secret after secret, breaking through lie by lie, until they find their hearts.  I only recommend that they go for one Moment of Truth a day, but the effect is the same whether you go for broke, as I did, or proceed gradually, as I suggest.  As far as I can tell, this process is always hard, always painful, always so, so worth it.

     

    If you did nothing but pursue the truth about yourself for the rest of your life, you would never run out of fresh discoveries. Every day brings you new experiences, changing you, bringing new aspects of your true self into expression.  There are many layers of thoughts and perceptions in your mind, so many interactive connections that have been developing from infancy on, that the largest part of you will always be an undiscovered country.  As you tell fewer fibs and keep fewer secrets in your inner world, you’ll find energy you once spent on denial turns outward in a kind of creative bloom.  Fascinating ideas, compassionate actions, unheard-of adventures will bubble up from the inexhaustible well of your unique personality during your Moment of Truth.”  Martha Beck

     

    This is the perfect book at the perfect time to help me articulate the ways of living outside of the bubble or as she says, behind the pane of glass.

     

    I love that diet is a day’s journey!

     

    What will you do on your diet today?

     

     

     

     

  • Alive but unaware!

    What an incredible ride, what an awe-inspiring journey, I feel an immense amount of gratitude to be given the opportunity to live beyond the bubble, to find a life outside of denial.

     

    Unless and until you have been totally snowed under by a false belief, where you and reality are an ocean apart, you will not understand the enormity of dissolving denial.

     

    First of all you are the one standing neck deep in denial, and it is from there that you have to dig yourself out, not knowing what is real; your denial or reality. 

     

    When I began this journey, when my bubble burst, I thought my reality changed, when in actuality it was my denial that had sprung a leak or collapsed, leaving me without protection.

     

    My husband said that I was like a scared rabbit, and I was.  I had no place to hide, to run to or escape, all I saw was the harsh reality in front of me.

     

    Actions that I had previously denied stood enormously obvious!  I had no choice now but to see and to feel what each action felt like.

     

    Living with all your nerves exposed, with no shield to protect you, a turtle without its shell.

     

    What I believe is while you are in denial; you deny your emotions a life.  You can’t feel them.  They don’t exist in the bubble, for that is why we built the bubble to escape feelings; they were far to terrifying to feel.

     

    Emotionally immature is how we get left. 

     

    We left our emotions behind and our bodies grew. 

     

    Emotionally stunted we live awkwardly in this world.

     

    The picture I now have, the overview and the application of denial, the land that we build and live in, leaves me in utter disbelief.

     

    Abuse while hurtful to the physical body, is nothing compared to being sentenced into the land of denial.

     

    What I am now seeing is that some get a life sentence and some 40 plus years. 

     

    I do not know what makes the denial bubble burst, how some have a stronger bubble than others, but denial is built from the inside out and I am thinking that it is the only way out.

     

    The one who built it is the one who takes it down.

     

    I sit in awe, I sit in gratitude, I sit in reality bubble-less.

     

    The definition of denial, refusal to acknowledge existence of something: a refusal to believe in something or admit that something exists.

     

    What we have to admit to is the bubble we live in and not the reality that has always been there.

     

    What we ultimately deny is our self.

     

    Alive but unaware, that is denial!

     

  • Balloon of Dreams!

    “Walking against the dream…” came to me in yoga, that why it has been such a struggle, I am walking the opposite of my dreams.

     

    The dream was born with abuse, and what we cling to with our lives is the dream.

     

    A dream that is opposite of reality, a dream of denial, a dream of illusion, a dream, a figment of our imagination.

     

    My dream began as a very young girl, I lived in that dream, that dream was more than my reality.  It was warm and cozy, loving and caring, a blanket that kept out the ugly truths.

     

    What I failed to realize is that walking in reality wasn’t as hard as destroying the dream.

     

    The dream was more precious to me than reality.

     

    The dream was where I was loved, where I was good enough, where I mattered, ‘to them’.

     

    I worked hard to keep that dream alive and now in the past five years I was working hard to destroy my lovingly safe place.

     

    It is shocking to know this, and incredible to realize that denial is the dream.

     

    The word denial being a dream land didn’t penetrate into me, that the application of this is to be living in and breathing in, a space that is loving cozy and warm while interacting in real life with the opposite.

     

    Denial is a balloon, a bubble that floats above reality.  I was a bubble girl!

     

    What I realized in yoga as I thought of the quilt I made with the little girl and her balloon, is that on the quilt there are beads running up into the balloon, and now I know those beads are tears.

     

    When you shed enough tears, the balloon breaks like a water balloon bursts.

     

    It leaves you naked, no blanky to cover with, nothing to hide under, you are left with a broken balloon of dreams.

     

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  • Letting It Go!

    Acceptance and I are staring at each other; it dangles both pain and freedom.  I see the two sides and feel caught in between, stuck standing still.

     

    I see with big lady intellect and with little girl dreams, I feel the struggles between them.

     

    The lady’s wise words and focus on actions fall on the little girl’s deaf ears. 

     

    Or perhaps I don’t want to be the one to end the little girls dreams, to crash and burn her long wait, to give her nothing but acceptance.

     

    Acceptance, hollow, empty, cold and unloving.

     

    Can I break my little girls heart?  Is it my only heart?

     

    Acceptance shatters all dreams.

    Acceptance makes daddy’s monsters forever.

    Acceptance makes moms cold and distant, always.

    Acceptance hurts in reality.

     

    I always thought what I feared most was my mental lady, instead what I feared the most was the shattered spirit of the hopeful dreaming little girl.

     

    To live empty, hollow, forsaken, alone, cold and hurt a girl with broken dreams.

    Is it possible to separate the little girl from her dreams, to untangle the loveless dream and set her free?

     

    To let the dream go, like a flyaway balloon…

     

    But keep the little girl spirit, her optimism, and her dreaming quality?

     

    My little girl survived holding on to that dream.

     

    And now her survival depends on her letting it go!

     

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    I know God will not give me anything I can't handle.  I just wish that He didn't trust me so much. 

     ~Mother Teresa

  • The Cost of my Peace!

    I finally figured out what I can’t accept in having to accept.

     

    I can’t accept that someone can’t change.

     

    And I guess that is not the meaning of acceptance.  I want acceptance with a clause.

     

    I want to accept who you are, but that you can change.

     

    This is incredibly insane. 

    This isn’t acceptance it’s conditional acceptance.

     

    It seems to be hopeless to accept others as they are.

    I am not sure if you can follow this, but in my head it makes sense as to why I am forever waiting and hoping, for I believe to the depth of my being that changes are possible.

     

    Even if the other person has yet to make one step, I am of thinking, ‘they can’.

     

    Yet can they?

     

    It almost seems like I have to become a pessimist or at very least, a realist and see who they are, not their potential with change.

     

    Imagine, “their potential with change” that is so not accepting who they are in this moment, but dreaming and believing that who they are isn’t who they want to be.

     

    Instead who they are ISN’T who I want them to be.

     

    I want them to be different.

    I want them to change to satisfy my ideas of what would make them a better this or a better that.

     

    This is an ongoing problem with me living in the land of potential changes, instead of being real right now.

     

    It is what it is.  I had said a million times.  But what I felt is, ‘it is what it is, until it isn’t’!

     

    Living in a hopeful state that someone will change, leaves you feeling hopeless.

     

    Somehow I have to work on accepting others not ever changing, and by seeing it is I with the problem, not them. 

     

    They are quite happy being as they are.

    As Byron Katie says, “who are you to ruin a good buzz, they are happy drinking!”

     

    I am the one that struggles with accepting that they are okay where they are, that they have no thoughts of changing, and have told me so repeatedly in words, thoughts and deeds!

     

    UGH.

     

    This will sit with me today.

    I accept who they are, but that they can change.

    Which is totally counterintuitive!

     

    I will only accept what is if what is changes!

     

    It would be funny if it wasn’t such a tragedy and if it hadn’t cost me so much peace.

     

    Believing in changes at the cost of my peace!

     

     

  • Wrong Places.

    "Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you" Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

     

     

    What I want to know is what will satisfy me as far as my mother goes?

     

    Funny, I thought I would be satisfied if she were to show all who she is, now today, and who she was all those years ago.  For her to show her insanity.

     

    She can’t be more visible, yet unseen! 

     

    What I failed to appreciate is that what I call insanity some see as sane! 

     

    Her actions are typical for her, so they see that their world hasn’t changed, they see their normal mom. 

     

    They find comfort in her unchanging ways.

     

    What leaves me breathless is that no one seems to care that she is staying in the same house with my father, the pedophile.  That this choice of hers isn’t insane.

     

    Their fabulous mother is simply stopping off in Dallas for a spell.  A normal event in their lives.

     

    How can your really overlook, look pass and around the fact that her husband wounded so many little girls?

     

    How is she not seen as insane or incredibly blind and disconnected for being able to be in the same space as him? 

     

    Two birds of the same feathers…

     

    My inability to shed a glimmer of light to show how off base her actions are leave me voiceless.

     

    How in the hell can I utter one word that will outshine her very own actions?

     

    Sadly being satisfied that your mother is insane doesn’t feel good, knowing that she is okay with the man who raped you leaves you reeling in thoughts and feelings.

     

    I wonder if us kids of incest are forever seeking to be satisfied in a way that is impossible to have?

     

    Is our own sanity jepordized by the fact that we still want something from our insane parents?

     

    Isn’t insanity trying to fix a problem at the same level at which it was created? (Einstien)

     

    If my satisfaction will only come when my insane parents make sane moves, I will be forever waiting.

     

    Accepting their insanity has been the hardest thing to do.

     

    Or is accepting that no loves lives there…

     

    Perhaps we are always on the look out for that little drop of love, just one little tiny dot.

     

    And all we see is more and more reasons how they don’t.

     

    How sad we subconsciously are waiting in hope.

     

    “Looking for love in all the wrong places….”

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