I M Perfect lady

Category: Art & Quilts

  • Who Believes in Me.

    The kick I had in my gut, I at first named it fear….and then, I thought maybe it was guilt…but today, after letting this sensation ride along for a few days, it felt more right calling it the feelings of Not Being Believed.

    To have oodles of writings, musings and prose excavated from my soul, only to have it doubted or disregarded…to be challenged or simply not believed.

    I more than likely will not have face to face confrontations, but rather be silently ignored.

    The fear of not being believed feels right to me, that my outspokenness will not be heard.  That life will continue on and my voice muted…echoes of my childhood.

    Will my ladies bring enough attention?  Is it hard to disregard when Art is carrying my words?  

    While the general public and perhaps other victims gaze upon my Art, I wonder what the Believers (FALC Members and other similar churches)will see?  Will siblings wander by…and glance?  What will they see?  

    The Story Line quilts and the Lady quilts for that matter, are the essence of me…the vessel that allowed me to express myself, they were the catalyst that allowed me to see inside of me.

    When there is doubt and disbelief, it is to not see me…again.


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    And maybe, the most important person this Art was meant to reach, was me!

    Guess it doesn't matter who believes, hears or sees….for I am the most important one who believes in me.

  • A Reflection of Me.

    A few years back, Susan Boyle made a splash in the world, when she began to sing; such an unlikely sound coming from this average looking woman…as my quilts are hung in public, it feels like the complete opposite of Susan Boyle….I am an average looking woman, and coming from me…is the articulation of what, for generations, has been kept in the dark.  The family secrets.

    It is one thing to sorta know what lives in the darkness, and quite another to have access to the inner workings of an adult child, working her way through sexual abuse….into recovery. The feelings and actual movement or dance of being estranged from a family of 14.  

    I feel like I am about to sing in public, and the words will be awful…that instead of applause, I will get booed off the stage.  

    I never wrote or quilted for an audience.  I did it to fight my way into peace, love and joy.  And, in order to find this love, joy and peace, I had to walk away from abusive relationships or ones that were no longer working with my authentic stride to wellness.

    And, I believe in me and my Lady quilts and my journey.  What I have not had was public scrutiny and I feel vulnerable and open and exposed.

    That being said.  I am very proud that my Ladies are out and standing proud….a reflection of Me.

  • On the Road to Recovery

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    My second visit to Copper Country Mental Health was carrying a carpet roll of 26 Art Quilts…or Art Therapy quilts to be more exact.  My Lady is being showcased for Recovery Month at this healing space.

    Shelly and Joe were terrific in orchestrating where the quilts were to be hung.  It was decided to not put them in numerical order, but to have them be placed randomly and for it to be a surprise as to what each mean and their order.  I liked this idea.

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    Rick was our measuring man, keeping things in balance and so easy to work with…Everyone who happened by had comments and interest.  I love that my lady was catching attention…


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    A good team, fun quilts and wonderful wall space…and it is my hope they will inspire and lend courage to those who are healthy enough to realize the help that can be gotten here.


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    My lady engaging the sitting area with their color and content…part of the recovery conversation.



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    This is space is as you enter into the building.  I think the quilts do a wonderful job welcoming all!

    It is my hope they bring a softer tone to a place often filled with stigma and shame…at least for those of us who are in need of their services. 

    And, you have to wonder how we, society as a rule, have it so wrong…that it is shameful to admit we need help, that we are not able to handle our lives and our truths.

    My Lady is bringing the public eye to a space that is typically protected and private, and feels even that I am hanging quilts in spaces often kept in the dark…bringing artful color and loud boldness to clinical hushed tones.

    There is even a small fear that the 'public' will mix with the 'private' and that it will cause 'discomfort' and, for us not to advertise or to open up general traffic, so that the privacy can be maintained…

    Meaning, to offer this display to the public, will draw to much of the general public to this space…a space where folks like to keep their mental illness private.

    However, it is my humble opinion, that most of the public is/was or will be in need of these services…if not now, then at some point in their future.  Mental Health is for all, not just the most wounded among us.

    I would love for My Lady and I, to begin the process of normalizing the look of those in need of Mental Health.  To stop the judgement against those who are willing and able to admit, their lives and their minds are in need of a second opinion.  

    I even believe, that my quilts, if allowed to be advertised in a public way, would bring folks into offices in which people are too scared to enter….to admit, that they could use an ear to listen or help with locating helpful services that will restore balance.

    Perhaps we could all start entering this space as we do a dentist.  We don't let our teeth go untreated, due to the fear of being recognized that we have neglected our mouths, and yet our minds somehow have been tagged with a negative connotation.

    And really, who among us can state that they have always had a clear mind, that they have never had troubles with their lives, their choices, and their truths, that their history has been a clean slate of pure brilliance and perfection?

    I truly believe that we all could use extra help. That if we paid attention to our mental health, our emotional and physical would take care of itself.  

    So….that being said, I highly suggest we all take a stroll through Copper Country Mental Health and begin to neutralize the stigma of Mental Health.

    And, you know what came to me….that when you can recognize and own that your mental health isn't quite right, you are on the road to recovery.

    (Perhaps there should be a sign only the Perfect need not enter. We somehow believe that it is failing to be imperfect. And, as you know, It is impossible to be imperfect….for even the word says, I'm Perfect!)



  • I am on the Team!

    As we work on the details for my Story Line Quilts at Copper Country Mental Health, a contact introduced himself to me as a team member of Trauma Informed Recovery Team.  I had to look up the word trauma.

    "Trauma".

    A deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

    Emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may be associated with physical shock.  

    A serious injury or shock to the body, as from violence or an accident. An emotional wound.

    What is more amazing than the definition is that I had to ask.  Like, how in the world having been traumatized, did I not know its content.  

    We use words, and words often hide the actual facts.  "Trauma" encapsulates the actual event like a shroud, hiding the literal activities and content.

    To say Trauma instead of describing the actual events, allows us to not feel, know and react or respond viserally.  It almost seems that words allow for more denial or denial period.

    And, maybe the "Trauma Informed Recovery Team" clearly understands the contents of trauma and we the traumatized are slowly awakened to them.

    Imagine, it takes a team to help us recover…to sort through the trauma and to find a way to live in peace, love and joy after it.

    I am very grateful that there is a team for trauma, a recovery team!

    The trauma in my life was to experience sexual abuse from a father.  It had both emotional shock as well as physical injury from violence.  Trauma sure seems like a nicer word, that rape by a dad. 

    I am looking forward to see what else I learn as I hang My Story Line Quilts at Copper Country Mental Health. What services and teams are waiting there to help in my recovery.  

    I am hopeful that my quilts will bring awareness to teams waiting to help those of us who sadly know the after affects of trauma…to recover and restore our center, our balance, our confidence, our self esteem….our self.

    I know, that what was clearly shattered and destroyed was my sense of safety, of having some who loved and cared for me, my faith and trust….this is what gets shot to hell, when the ones you love….sexually abuse or are incapable of responding…like my mother.  I lost my parents and that was traumatic.

    It isn't the act of sexual abuse or the indifference after, it is finding out there is no one there to protect you.  That the world of safety and love is no more.

    Trauma is breaking the innocent world by those you loved and trusted.

    When kindness and love are replaced with rape and indifference…that is traumatic, for they are polar opposites.  To recover from that, often times means getting away from those hurtful people….which often leaves us estranged from family.

    I would love to be part of the Trauma Informed Recovery Team.  And, if my quilts help someone, give hope, lend inspiration….I am on the team!


  • Uncomfortable.

    I am sitting with the feelings of strength after sending the letter to my mother.  It is never easy to write what you know they don't want to hear.  Nor is it easy to be brutally honest with your self and say what you feel.  And yet, it is by doing just that, that my life returns to calm.

    It was helpful to get it down on paper, to sort out the whys and the why nots, to sift through the past and envision the future with two distinctly different sides in abuse and say what I needed to say.

    I can feel the unease or the disease of being silent and 'hoping' and 'wishing' for the other side to come to reason on their own. 

    I know that in the past I never clearly stated what I needed…and how I felt, without regard to how it would impact the person's feelings before my own.

    I felt strong standing up for me.  

    I felt empowered and grown up.  

    I felt that I wasn't being a bully, but rather stating to me, the obvious…to someone who would try and slip back into my world, caring less about my feelings…and believing I would have no outright objection.

    While it gave me moments of fright, it honestly gave me much strength and determination that I have the right to ask for space, for consideration, to be honored as the estranged.

    I can't know how it was received, but have to believe that there is no way she can not know how I feel.  

    And oddly, my actions in the past 8 years are a clear indication of how I feel.  I want space.  I have kept space…removing myself from relationships that I felt were blind to my feelings…or what I felt would be inconsiderate to a victim of sexual abuse.

    I can see how the old silence self would have been….just hoping and waiting for my mother to finally see, to change, to do different, while I did nothing overt to stop her current behavior. 

    We somehow want the other person to change, so we don't have to.

    So we don't have to speak up and say what it is we feel, to express and object to their behaviors, we expect them to suddenly be hit with a streak of kindness and finally see us.

    See our needs.

    See our feelings.

    See our hearts and souls.

    When, it is up to us to show people how to treat us.

    Isn't that what Dr. Phil says, "We show people how to treat us." 

    That means we speak up when we are mistreated. We set boundaries. We say how something feels to us. We don't just bare the pain and wish for them to change.

    Will my letter asking for space and continual separation be enough to keep my mother away from me…or will she come in boldly, arrogantly righteously right and once again wreck havoc in my world?

    I feel I have a better chance of her staying away by sending the letter, than I do by being silent.

    I just didn't know that silence and staying away wasn't a clear signal, that I would have to put it in writing.  That some would still press forward into my world.  Perhaps feeling that time heals all wounds….and that I may have changed my mind.

    What I felt yesterday was that the boundary keeping will be a life long event.  It isn't to just step out once, but to do so repeatedly with each new event.

    There is no returning to life as normal…where I will not be put into the same position again and again.  That my family of origin will not be asking to join or be part of my life and my family events.  

    I guess I never dreamed it would never end.  That unlike a death, it is to be a living ghost, and to have past dead relationships surface time and time again.


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    It is to be comfortable sitting relaxed amidst the evil and swirling energies of abuse….is to be comfortable with the uncomfortable.

     

  • The Helpers and the Help.

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    Yesterday was the first time I had walked into Copper Country Mental Health…after spending a half an hour I left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.  I felt the sincerity and kindness…helpfulness and understanding a safe haven for those needing guidance.

    Gulping down an unexpected wave of emotion….I drove away.

    I had even said, "I should have probably used this place during my crisis…" and yet I had not.  I don't know exactly why, but it never crossed my mind.  

    I am not sure of their policies or services or pay schedules, but the feelings I had when I met with a few of the employees was kindness and caring….sincerely. A place for the troubled mind to find compassion.

    I truly have not given this place a thought, not a conscious literal mindful, or even inquiring thought, it has been a known place, but one I drive by unnoticing.

    Having been approached to exhibit My Story Line Quilts, I was invited in.  I went.

    My Story Line Quilts will shine there, be welcomed and appreciated, just like the rest of their consumers, clients, patients…etc.

    It is more special than an Art Gallery, for the eyes that gaze upon them will know my journey well….from both sides…the helpers and the helped.

    (I will take pictures of the exhibit in September…until then, I will get my quilts and their words together.)

  • On Display Again!

    Today I am meeting with a gentleman at Copper Country Mental Health.  He was the high bidder on my Lady quilt that I donated to the Dial Help Gala. He not only loves my Ladies, but he gets the recovery they represent and my journey in fabric.  He had asked if I would hang my quilts for the month of September, Recovery Month and I said yes.  And so I have to come up with a short blurb about the quilts and I and my journey of recovery.

    First I wondered, what is the definition of recovery and found this.

    "A return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength."

    Now the words "Normal State" needs to be defined….I looked up "normal".

    "Conforming to a standard; usual, typical or expected. The usual or average, typical state or condition."

    When I look upon my recovery, I see a woman who went all the way back to her childhood and began looking at her life from how sexual abused changed who the little girl was and into the girl she had to be, in order to survive.

    In surviving she lived in denial.  

    I believe that my recovery was to break down the denial and begin living in reality. Which was not a typical state in my family of origin.  I did not conform to their standards of what was 'normal'.

    I wonder if we all 'recover' back to where we feel most comfortable or most normal?

    My old set of comfort, was no longer comfortable for me to live in.  I was awake, aware and I now knew what I had so long denied.  

    I did not find a resting place in my old normal, I had to keep going until I did. Meaning, the way I was in old relationships were no longer comfortable for me.  I had to redefine me.  I did find a new normal…but most often it was to exit old relationships that did not honor and respect me…that were not an equal balance of truth and reality.

    I would say I recovered a self I had lost, but didn't know was missing.  

    My Story Line Quilts represent this journey of how I seen myself against the world, how little I thought of my self and how much I thought and served the outside voices, against the good of me.

    The quilts show, and are a gauge, on how I felt about me.  How little self esteem was present and how as I recovered my voice and my truth, how my Lady grew more animated and more defined.

    Her stiffness represented my inability to be an individual; my self frozen while dancing to please others.

    I am so grateful that I was able to recover beyond my usual normal, but to go back so far as to feel that I am connected to the little girl inside of me.  The one who I put aside and hid due to her abuse.  

    Given no alternatives, I lived so to keep peace in the family…or perhaps food in my belly and a roof over my head.  I stuffed the abuse so far back in my mind….in order to survive.

    When I fully embraced my 'secret' I was meeting my real self…the innocent girl, the wounded one, and the survival self.  I am a composite of all of my experiences. There is no part that is not me.

    My recovery is to embrace my whole journey…keeping no secrets from me.

    Childhood sexual abuse ends the natural creation of who you would grow to be.  It interferes with our trust and faith and our innocence, we become old before our time and liars about reality.  We contort our selves and our lives to fit what isn't there.

    My recovery was to recover reality…to recover the little wounded girl that I lost.

    I looked up "recover".  "1. To get back; regain. 2. To restore ( oneself) to a normal state.

    Little children who are abused so young, don't even have a full grasp of who they are, what is their set point, what do they love, their passion and soul's essesence and it is eclipsed by the ugly hand of abuse. 

    Regaining the self is to feel like a child again, to restart growing as a person.  To begin with a child inside an adult body.

    To me, recovery is about getting back to the little child and innocence. To feel love, peace and joy inside about you.  To reconnect with love.

    It seems to me the ultimate victory over abuse…to leave abuse with the abusers, to let it be their problem, not yours.  To put it in its rightful place and to restore and recover your inner spirit.

    I will never not be abused, but I was able to recover my self and walk with all aspects of me.


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    It is time for my quilts to go on display again!

     

  • Making my Day.

    A beautiful Sunday to be inside creating…and I loved that it allowed me to be excused from mowing the grass.

    I bought this white/red/black border fabric, loving it for a border, but then had the challenge of making something inside.  It was harder than I expected and I am not totally okay with the way it is.  Perhaps adding something else will complete it.


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    Although I love my Lady on the Bench….

    I also finished this one…she has great energy in person.  I love the colors and wondered about adding a few leaves to the tree….and maybe others on the ground and in the wind.  


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    Thank you Rain for making my day!

  • Self Love

    Art is an interesting journey and the one of the Artist even more so.  I wonder at its definition or its truest meaning…

    Artist – "A person who produces paintings or drawings as a profession or hobby."

    Art – "The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture. Works produced by such skill and imagination."

    The above definitions don't begin to tell the whole story of art and the artist…

    I even wonder if Artist have a choice…for it is an inner passion that has to be expressed, like we are just along for the ride.

    What I find very intriguing is the fear factor that comes with Art.  The fear of exposing yourself and rejection…how the art and self become one.

    My journey into Art was an unconscious journey exposing my subconsciousness.

    It reflected a self that I was unaware of, and perhaps still does…or does.

    In the beginning, I was more concerned of how others saw my art and their subsequent approval…I needed their blessing to be okay.  So, even in my Art Relationship, it was very co-dependent.

    As I unhinged myself from the outside and understood that my sense of self and self-worth was about me and me alone…my Art Relationship changed, as well as my Art, and even who I was concerned about while doing my art.

    In quilting they have the Quilt Police, an imaginary group that hovers near your sewing maching keeping a critical eye, taunting you with your lack of perfection.

    In Art, a similar aura walks with you, but its content mirrors your own self esteem.

    I can see that Art and being an Artist, is an intimate relationship with your self witnessed by others. 

    In the beginning, my Art was held up by the good opinion of others…as was I.

    Now, I feel that my Art and I are way okay if no one loves us, for we are fully content and in love.

    Certainly I love when others love my Ladies, but I am also way okay if they do not. Where in the past, their lack of agreement would have challenged my self worth.

    How I feel about myself has a direct response within all relationships, especially in Art. 

    Art that we make with our imagination and feelings, seems to then take on the personna of special friend, a love….and it is like we are dancing with our self.

    I am not sure if all can follow this weird thrilling and terrifying journey of Art…being one of walking inside your self, but it is.

    I would not have believed it, until I had seen my story line quilts all expressing the different levels of awakening…or self expressions I had of my self.

    And, it stands to reason why some stop doing art, for it gets to be too intimate and so telling….and why others don't share or feel they are compensated enough or good enough etc.

    It is like showing the world your soul.

    Or even more, our relationship with our souls.  The inner speaking and feelings about how we feel about who we are.  A relationship between me and me.

    Art is showing everyone how you feel about you…the relationship that steers all other relationships.  How well do you know you…how honest are you with your self, how deeply connected are you with your authentic self.

    Doing Art is a visual documented picture composition, of the relationship inside of you. Your self worth and value and love Of you.

    It is not about how others see and love you/Art….it is more about self love.

     

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  • Light is back on.

    The difference between the Self that I am today and the one I was before I recognized my sexual abuse, is like night and day, literally Light and Dark.  

    It is hard to recognize the old me, whose insides were so dark, while trying so hard to shine bright.  My own awareness unaware of who I was and what I had experienced and its consequences.  Living lie, unaware…in denial.  

    You would think, that I would have been shining inside, since I did not know know.

    That I would FEEL innocent, if my mind didn't record the abuse. But, there was an inner feeling of not being good enough, always. That I couldn't pull off what others expected of me.

    What I didn't realize, is that they wanted me to be un-abused…to be un-disturbed.

    And, there aren't enough dances to dance or things to change, that will un-do sexual abuse.  

    This inner feelings of not being able to satisfy or that just being me wasn't enough, had me unhappy with myself, instead of unhappy with the outside.

    Once, I fully embraced my sexual abuse, I was able to feel bright inside.

    You would think, it would devast and wreck your insides, but instead I felt Right for the first time in my life.  I made sense.  My whole world made sense.  Folks and feelings matched.

    I could never be good enough for them, for I could never not be abused, and that is what they wanted.

    While again, riding my lawn mower, I replayed an earlier conversation, about my responses to the different things my children have experienced.  And, I found I have a inner scale upon which I weigh their choices.  If their spirits are happy, life is good…no worries.  If their inner light goes dark, I am on high alert.  

    I have no standards or set desires for them.  I don't have perferences and choices that will make me happier or make me dark….all I have is one indicator light that I watch, "is their spirit happy"?

    It is my belief, that sexual abuse, physical abuse, touches our soul.  It changes it from light to dark.  It wounds our love, peace and joy.  It tears the innocence of trust and darkens our worlds.

    It isn't that we turn dark, but our worlds do.  

    Something has changed in our worlds. 

    I was going to write, when parents miss the spirit's light dimming, we slip into a dark world…trying to make it right.  But, often IT is the parents that are doing the abusing.

    What needs to happen is someone has to recognize the dark world of abuse that lives in so many lives of children. We keep focusing on the child, when we need to see the adult lives with whom they live.

    And, I am not so certain, you can see the Spirit Light indicator, if you own light is dark.

    I know, that as a mom, I am now able to rightly see what is dark and what is light…now that my inner light is back on.
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