Author: bjukuri

"she was tired.

it was one mess after another.

every time she turned around

but when she looked at the spaces

in between the messes - 

or the rings around those very spots –

she saw beauty.

here.

and there.

and over here. 

mess surrounded by beauty.

beauty surrounded by mess.

she leaned her head back and smiled.

and stood up once again." 

                                      Terri St. Cloud

This is a great reminder, that life isn't all one thing.  It is many things.  Some are hurtful and others are delightful.  We feel sad and then see a brilliant sunset.  There are days where the past pops in and messes with your head, and then you snowshoe among the decorated trees.   

If you just look at the whole landscape, the beauty that surrounds the messes, the messes are not so overwhelming or even prominent.  

And, we can easily get stuck staring at the mess, and forget to take a break and be in wonder.

When we glance away from the mess, we can see that there isn't just one kind.  That we have both, and often more beauty than messes.

Often what we call messes are just lessons arriving or consequences from past choices, and some messes are others, and not ours to unravel.

In the past few weeks I have had a note arrive, that created a mess in my head for awhile, until I look elsewhere and perhaps gather more space between the mess and Me.

And, by snowshoeing in snow covered trees, their beauty reduces the mess to a puddle.

I have had a message exchange, that I spent a few days mulling over.  Whose responsibility was the mess really?  What was my contribution to the mess and what lessons can I learn?  And, sprinkled around the mess were Christmas decorations.

I love this reminder, life isn't just one kind.

I created Mugs with the images from the quilts I made of ladies in the nude. My intentions were to inspire women to love and accept the body they are living in.

To be content with the wonder it is.

There truly isn't a perfect body.

That is a myth.

In fact the word perfect should be a swear or banned from our language.

 

Embracing and loving what we have defined as imperfection, IS where we will drop the need for wanting a body that looks different from the one we have.

 

I want the message of the mugs to inspire embracing your imperfections.

On this blog, my tag line is "I M Perfect and It is impossible not to be."

I know that the moment my imperfections flooded my life, it made them become lovable.

This may seem counter intuitive but, when you are left with bold imperfections, ones that you can't discard or positive think over, you have to embrace them.

Accepting that my past can't be any different, allowed me to accept me.

The abused me.

The me that wasn't worthy of all that comes with abuse.

I had to not just let her ride along in the backseat.

I had to become bold and courageous with my wounds showing.

To walk naked among the many who strive for perfection.

Perhaps these nude ladies are bringing me full circle to the moment I discovered that I was without any of the usual pillars we hide behind.

The family, religion and even who I was, were all down.

I was naked as a new born, in a grown woman's body, who in itself was perfect in its imperfections.

So, I will look at finding words to go with my naked ladies.

Ladies who are bold and courageous living and loving their imperfections.

Knowing that perfect is a false planet, no one inhabits.

While the land of imperfect is filled with wild, wonderful, adventurous, daring women, who refuse to seek perfection in anything.

We rock imperfection in a way that makes life full of loving.

We love ourselves just as we are.

Naked rolls of imperfections!

We know that our body is the vehicle for joy and is strong enough to handle all of life's sorrows. It is an incredible unique work of art, and we don't match anyone else!

We were born to be perfectly perfect, just the way we are!

 

I feel for those whose hearts feel the added sadness of the holidays.  As most are eagerly looking forward, there are many who see the emptiness, instead of the full spectrum of joy.

For me it usually feels half hearted.  

Where a part of my heart will never be fully open to all the sentiments the holidays bring.

My innocence of family has been marred.

The wounds seem to leak and bleed on holiday trimmings.

 

Whereas before, I innocently believed I had the power to make a holiday into something special, by all my attention to the details.

Details which now seem shallow and almost valueless.

I don't need a certain tree, a favorite dessert, the perfect home etc.  None of that can fill the hole left by my estrangement.

I can go along, and not quite pretend, but the loss of innocent enthusiasm doesn't arise.

The value I believe I used to place on holidays has fled.

It simply is just another day.

I know, it may seem tragic, but it has also given me value of all the other days.

 

I know it isn't the day, the right gift and a perfect table that creates a family of love.

Love happens on ordinary days.

 

I also know, the value of love, having lost so much.

I know, the value of me, by what I wasn't willing to settle with.

It is funny, the holidays lost their value, when family mattered more.

 

The accent prior was on the holiday and the trimmings IT needed.  I wasn't focused on the individuals who gathered.

I didn't see myself, so how could I have seen them.

 

I remember how much the holidays mattered, for I truly believed a perfect holiday, could and would, create a perfect family.

How backwards that all is.

 

Now, my heart isn't fully into these glitzy days.

The details have lost their gleam.

 

It is weird that while my heart has a huge hole in it, it also feels bigger and able to feel more.  That all the brokenness has allowed me to feel more with less.

And the feelings swings back and forth.

From the past to the present. To what I have and what I lost.

Holidays and full families or perhaps intact families can be irritating.

Their completeness and fullness scream out my incompleteness.

 

And, yet my present family is in good shape.

Perhaps, besides me.

 

I have so much more, than what I lost.

For others, what they lost feels unsurmountable.

Broken hearts and holidays just simply don't mix.

 

So, for those who can't muster up the usual enthusiasm for family gatherings, when there are big holes where a loved one used to be, or many.  I understand.

I truly, would be happy with a soft tree of lights and fire and maybe tea.

It could go by me, quietly.

 

I may not be able to give a 100% enthusiasm to the party prep and meal planning etc – but I can be fully present with family.

I now see people, where decorations used to be.

 

Cheers to us, the half-hearted people!

May each of us be able to focus on what we need to, in order to get our hearts through this holiday season.

Find a place where you can be at peace inside.

It doesn't have to be traditional, or follow any pattern.

Add or take away the parts, weaving together a new normal.

 

I have become one of the elders at our gatherings.  Now it is up to the next generation to set the tone.  I feel less stressed about this.  For, it was hard to create excitement when my heart wasn't truly in it.

Now, I can be the grandparent and watch the excitement and innocence of the families beneath me.

I made the choices I made, in hopes that my children will at least be spared estrangement's broken heart.

 

None of us will be spared a broken heart if we love.

There will be holidays, where absence is so painful.

Where there is the natural separation of love.

It seems to me, there has to be a different modes of brokenness.

Where one has loving memories…

and, then those filled with pain and sorrow.

I guess, the tragedy of estrangement is that the memories of past are tinged with sadness. Happy seems to be false and hard to find. I can't know what was a real connection.  

 

For those who have happy memories hug them near.

 

All this to say, I face these holidays, with the complications that estrangement brings.

Beauty and sorrow mixed to make a complicated tapestry.

 

 

 

I wonder what the difference is between reality and mental well being? Is there a direct correlation between being allowed to live in reality or being forced to ignore what is. 

Doesn't it seem impossible to not to be able to be in reality.

 

However, we little by little slip away each time we pretend to pretend, that someone is different than they acted.

 

Reality living can seem harsh after being forced to not be there.

We, more often than not, force the pretend world.

For it requires nothing of us.

 

It is a lazy way to live and one that messes with your head.

My mind is most at peace when it aligns with what is.

 

And, my soul loves the authenticity we live with.

 

The harmony doesn't allow for much pretending.

 

"Loving What Is" by Byron Katie helped me so much as I learned to be accepting to what is.  To live with the consequences of what is, and to not ignore life's signs along the way.

 

Loving what is, doesn't require you to like it or approve of it, it just matters that you accept it. 

 

Often, my struggle is with accepting and wanting it to be different.

Wanting something different is Hell.

It is impossible, and yet the mind can go on for hours wishing, bargaining and hoping, and it is all for naught.

Reality wins, only but 100% of the time.

 

Once you get into the routine of accepting, it actually allows you choices.

You can't make a choice on a wish; but you can on something that actually exists.

 

It is easier on your mind and mental state of being, when you accept the unacceptable.

I believe that once you bring your mind to where your body lives, it is easier on all parts of you.

 

Having a mind that refuses to be where you are, and dealing with the realities of your life, has to be a very confusing state to be living from.

If it always wants what is not.

 

The thoughts of non-accepting feel horrible in my body.

I can feel when my mind leaves reality.

 

Just as it was intensely horrific when my mind entered into reality for the first time.

To see what I had been categorizing all wrong in my mind and then to be in a reality that was tragically brilliant.

 

Our inability to be with truths, takes a toll on our minds and our mental well being.

 

We didn't choose to leave reality.

Our minds did us a favor, as children, in order to survive some scary home situations.

In our heads, our minds were able to not see reality in order for us to be okay while living with abusive adults.

 

It became a way of life, to not see when things are not right.

 

Sometimes, our minds are not able to see until we are in a safe place.

A relationship or when we are capable to living on our own.

And, even when we are the adult and have a child who needs us to step up.

 

My mind was my savior and my enemy.

It blocked out the abuse, but then allowed me to be in situations that were not good for me.

 

When reality could no longer be denied, I was able to see.  And, it was a blessing and a curse.

It was as if I grew up and became an adult at 46.

I then had the choice, sorta to either do what my mother did and try and create a pretend life around a truth that was too awkward to hide.

In fact, I am astounded that we were able to live as a 'normal' family for all those years.

It boggles my mind. 

The only way it worked is that our minds all created a coverup.

 

Malcolm Gladwell's new book "Talking to Strangers" mentions the "Default to Truth".

Where in our minds default to truth, regardless of what is.

It clearly sees only what it wants to see and disregards the rest.

His book is very interesting, when you see this playing out on the worlds stage today.

 

Defaulting to truth is not often about the truth, but what you think is the truth.

Or, what you have been conditioned to think.

How we have preconceived ideas before we ever meet someone.

Our minds have made up our minds ahead of time.

And, it is really hard to go against our Default to Truth, that we had in place for years.

 

Malcolm found it incredible how families were able to not see the abuser among them. How they couldn't change their default to truth.

 

What his book shows is that there are so many of us, who live a few steps from reality due to various conditioning of our minds.

Just as so many Christians were taught to believe a truth about Gays, that have nothing to do with the real human beings.

Or we have been conditioned that white skin is better than another color.

This church is better than that church.

Or my way is the right way. 

 

All of that kind of programming, leaves us out of reality.

It was mind blowing to me, to see my programs running.

In a loop outside of reality.

Where reality was literally blind to me.

How can this programming and conditioning, not mess with our mental state of being?

Or, have us feeling at war, if you will against reality.

How can we even trust ourselves.

Let alone trust who we believe the other person is.

We believe in a world that doesn't even exist, and pre-judge others due to our own programming.

 

I was a mess at 46.

I didn't know what was up and who was who.

All of my conditioning and programming, seemed to favor abusive people and a cult like religion.  It was like their mind viruses lived out as me.

 

I don't know how you can challenge your Default to Truth that was set by your parents/religion/schools/communities/people of the same kind as you.  But, maybe we can at least admit we don't know all that we think we know.

 

I love the don't know mind.  

How can I really know.

Or as Maya Angelou says, "People teach you who they are, believe them the first time."

 

My life for the past many years has been a dual between reality and my mind.

Where I literally had to touch the arm of my chair to keep me in the here and now.

And, to enter into new friendships with a don't know mind.

 

This feels to me like mental wellness.

I have a great appreciation of the mind and its ability to weave a story with the least amount of information, as Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor writes in her book – "My Stroke of Insight."

 

Our mental illnesses may be greatly relieved by our ability to challenge our minds with what is, accepting it fully.

"A mind convinced against its will is of the same opinion still." Benjamin Franklin

 

 

 

I have experienced mental illness on various levels throughout my life.  Many manifestations I considered normal life expressions, until I allowed the truth of reality to enter.  

I have been witness to the damage that silence and denial have with Mental Illnesses.

And yet, talking about mental illness often is wrought with anxiety. 

For me, though not speaking has more anxiety than speaking.

 

The consequences of mental illness can impact most we have contact with.

It becomes like the third party to many relationships.

For often mental illness can, and will, take over the steering wheel and choice makings of the individual.  The reason center; becomes unreasonable.

Or the elephant in the relationship we can't talk frankly about.  

 

Somehow the mental being, part of us, when it goes off line, seems to re-define who we are.

I am depressed, not I have depression.

I am anxious, not I feel anxious.

There seems to be very little space between the illness and the person, that they merge into one.

 

Perhaps separating the illness from the person would allow more open dialogue.

 

And, yet I can see where I lived as denial. 
I lived as a co-dependent.

There wasn't another person ahead of me – or behind me.

However, more importantly, I was surrounded by folks who also shunned reality and didn't seek the truth.  No one challenged me.  There didn't appear to be awareness anywhere.

Which created the dysfunction.

Our family was dysfunctional.

There didn't appear to be anyone telling us a different story of who we were.

 

More, if truth poked its head up, it was quickly doused with rage and indignation,
"How dare you speak that way!"  Making it unkind to see or speak of what is. No function was allowed in our dysfunctional way of being.

Religion often walked hand and hand with dysfunction. Blessing away the truths that needed to be addressed and seen.

 

The landscape of my childhood and into adult hood, was littered with the debris of not dealing with reality, which often I feel leads to exacerbating our mental unease.

My mental state of being, is much more at rest and less anxious when we can have a conversation about life and all its weightiness.   Where we can walk with and talk to the elephant in the room.

The greatest divide between my mother and I, was the fact that she would not allow me to discuss frankly, sexual abuse and the way her church used the forgiveness of sins to wipe it away.

It left us with a huge boulder, that hurt little girls, unaddressed and unacknowledged in reality.

Her inability to walk in truth left me motherless.

In order to maintain a relationship with her, I would have had to walk in denial – and that landscape leaves me anxious, fearful, paranoid and a pretender. 

That is where my mental illness developed. Living in reality, but not talking about it. Being there, but not seeing out loud.

I have lost family members due to my need to be open and seeing.

Turning a blind eye isn't my strong suit.

 

There are many mental illnesses that have a root in our childhoods. Where we lived dysfunctionally, but it was never addressed. No one said, our family is blind to abuse. That we pretend we are loving family. No one. Yet, in truth we were. We lived it out each day.

 

My pretend loving family fell apart each time I forced us to look at what we really had.

Yet, my pretend loving family lives on and they would be incensed to read this.

I didn't want my family to be pretend. I so wanted it to hold up to what I thought it was in my mind.

I didn't want a dad who was a pedophile.

I didn't want a mother who knew and did nothing.

I didn't want it; but reality won only but 100% of the time.

Each time it came for me to be silent or speak my truth, I lost another family member – my pretending they were loving wasn't going to work this time.

My mental well being – which lived for 46 years – in the land of pretend, could no longer not see what it now saw. Once you see, you can't not see.

I was not willing to lose myself again to have a pretend family.

 

I have been accused of being high and mighty, of being the judge and jury, of being cold and heartless, of abusing the abused.  

Where can I stand in this.

I am damned if I am silent, and damned when I speak up.

What I do know, is that my mental well being feels less anxious saying what I see.

How you see me, is perhaps how you see the world – and maybe yourself.

All the words you use starting with YOU really are self judgements.

And, I cringe when I re-read what has been said about me. It shows the depth of pain and suffering inside of them.

I write all of this, to say, speaking of mental illness has its price.

Each of us, and our state of mental well being, is rooted most likely in family.

It began before we even knew who we were. It developed long before we were an individual self. 

I have compassion and empathy for all of us who were raised in dysfunctional homes and who now have to wrestle with our minds.  Who have to re-learn and become aware of how off the mark we are.

We developed triggers and fear exclusion.

 

Mostly, I want to engage in open dialogues of mental health, in ways that empower others to live a more peaceful less anxious life in reality.

However, when I moved from my pretend world in my mind. I had lots of relationships to clear up and sort out.  It isn't easy, but in my case it has brought me peace of mind.

Again, mental wellness comes with a cost. You will lose all that is not real.