I M Perfect lady

Category: Books

  • Not for Naught.

    In a podcast I learned a deeper understanding of Emotionally Immature Parents.  

    You can read or listen more at https://momastery.com/blog/we-can-do-hard-things-ep-263/

    There are two back to back episodes. 

     

    I have lived this – on both sides.

    I have had parents who were emotionally immature, and I was a parent who was emotionally immature.

     

    My mother used to say, I was mature beyond my years – and I used to think this was a good thing. What it really meant, was that I had learned to care for others emotions.  Not mine – others.

     

    And, I wasn't born an old soul. I was a child – who was put in charge of things way beyond my years.

    What this does is, while tending to others – I neglected me.

    I lost Me.

    I stopped growing and being with my own emotions.

     

    My own emotions were stunted and left unattended – which probably made me an easier target for abuse.

     

    I had to tend to my mother's emotional needs. 

     

    What is so odd about this all – is that we don't know we are doing this or that our mother is emotionally immature –  yet we feel this dance.  The ironclad bond of being attached to our mother's happiness or equilibrium.

    I am not even sure I can adequately articulate this.  

    Yet this is so clear and runs deep into my DNA.

     

    This is a legacy that has crippled my family of origin.

     

    Emotional immaturity has others in control of your emotions.

    You are powerless – and need to control others – for they hold the buttons that engage your emotions.

     

    And, they define who you are.  You see yourself through them. They have the power to make you a good mom, a good wife, a good friend.  Without them – you seem to disappear – for you haven't tended you.  The you inside of you is barely there.

     

    I recall the feelings of having no me – as much as I recall stopping to tend to my mother and her emotions.

     

    There was a pivotal moment where my childhood wounds and their emotions – needed me to tend to them – and that my mother and her world had messes so beyond my scope to handle.  A one two punch that landed me facing my own immature emotions -as a woman of 46.

     

    There are moments on my journey of growing my emotional intelligence – that stand out so clear – where it was jaw dropping in how much I had neglected and how much I had failed to even be aware of.

     

    As a child, even a grown child – it was earth shattering to see that the woman I had tended to – was so small in inner substance.  How terrifying this would have been to see as a child.  

     

    There didn't appear to be any adult who was emotionally mature enough to face reality.

     

    And I was her mirror.

     

    Emotional immature people need a reality that sits at their level emotions.

    My mother's emotions couldn't handle the weight of the reality of the abuse in her home and in her church.

    She still can't.

     

    I don't know what made me different. 

    I don't know why I was able to see reality.

    To see Me not there.

    To see her and her denial.

    To see how abusive our legacy is.

    And I don't know how I had the strength and wherewithal to dare change. To stop tending to her emotions and even more to start tending to mine.

     

    I had to begin with my broken child self – that I had left unattended on so many levels.

    A broken me fixing me and disappointing a mother I had tended to for so so many years.

    The strains and pulls upon me were tied deeply into generations of women who lived without a self.

     

    What I know to be true, any woman who has a good grasp on themselves and is emotionally matured would never look away from a child who was abused.

     

    Only those who cannot see themselves – cannot see a child.

     

    When I focused on me and growing my self – I broke this legacy on my limb of our family tree.

     

    I know I appear different – and that I appear heartless to no longer be tending to my mother's emotional needs. 

     

    In one of the episodes, they speak of feeling like an allergic reaction when in the presence of emotionally immature people. I get it.  Something inside of me pushes me away from them.

     

    Perhaps I know, to be with them – I will leave me unattended.

     

    It was good to listen to the description of what I went through way back then.

    If my only legacy is emotional maturity – my life mattered and my pain was not for naught.

     

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  • I Hold You in My Heart

    I watched Michele Obama being interviewed about her latest book "The Light We Carry" with Oprah and they talked about Michele's friends.  The ones she calls her Kitchen Table.

     

    The Kitchen Table has a relaxed image – one where we don't have to put on aires. We can be ourselves in this group.  In fact, we feel at home with them and our truth is honored.

     

    These friends are found along our journey of life.  We carry them with us, as we grow, evolve and face some of life's darkest moments and celebrate with us our achievements and joys.

     

    As I sit here today, I am reminded of the girls who have been with me.

    Watched me grow and change and lead a life that some can't understand.

     

    Not all my friends have continued on with me. Some found my table to hard to sit at – my truths too upsetting to their beliefs.  My voice spoke of things they need kept silent. 

     

    There have been times in my life my table was crowded – and other times many empty chairs. 

     

    I have a friend from my middle school days – we had years of silence and now we are reconnected.  We both had life experiences that changed us – and yet we still fit together. I treasure our friendship and how she holds so much of my history and embraces my new self.  A friendship that can hold changes feels good to me.

     

    When my kids were little, another mom with young kids and I connected. She wasn't from the church I was in at the time. We felt at home with each other – we clicked.   When she moved away, we lost touch for awhile – and now when life throws us a curve ball – the other catches it. She gets me and has loved me unconditionally and I her.

     

    I found a friend at one of my jobs who was the best thing that came from working there.  A sister friend is how she feels.  We can share our lives with each other and there is no shame or critical eye. Just an open space to sort out life.  We too had moments in life where our lives were busy and perhaps we didn't need the counseling space – and then other times we talked daily.

     

    I have found friends during their time of need and I felt my history of loss would be helpful – and over time we have bonded deeply.  Sisters who have shared darkness and found hope. Sisters who travel down pathways each never saw coming. We have deep heart connections.  And, we walked each other towards the light – found hope in the hopeless and joy we didn't think possible. We have witnessed each others growth and success of thriving after heartache.

     

    I love that some of my Kitchen Table friends have encouraged me to be an adventure girl- I have wonderful women who enjoy the outside. These ladies have grown me. I am different with a garage full of gear that I use in different seasons.  Some are badass and make me feel kinda badass myself. Being outside and challenging myself has helped my self-esteem.

     

    I have artist friends who are great cheerleaders and sounding blocks. Some have been with me from my very early years.  Sharing your art is sharing your soul.  These are brave vulnerable souls.  

     

    I look back at some of the friends I had from the church – wistfully.  We shared the common belief system – and were comrades of sorts – with similar foes.  I have lost some that still hurt my heart – our common ground slipped away.

     

    At one time, I thought wrongly – that I didn't need new friends – that I was too old to start making new ones.  

     

    What a mistake that would have been.  I continue to meet women who I click with and we are in the early stages of friendship.  We can't know where we go, what we do and how long we share our lives together.

    The best part about my kitchen table – we can laugh, cry and be silly. We can share our hopes, our dreams and our deepest fears. We can work out life's difficult questions and debate our differences.  

    The differences in my friends help me to see life from so many aspects. Views I couldn't have reached on my own.

     

    Being away from my family of origin left me with quite a hole.  These friendship over the past few decades have filled so much emptiness. They opened their arms and hearts to me.

     

    One of my oldest friends recently told me that families are not as advertised.

    I sat with that awhile and found she was on to something.

     

    Friendships and who sits at the Kitchen Table with us is so much different. We decide who is worthy of our time and truths – who come in carrying the fullness of who they are.

    My Kitchen Table is much more welcoming as I age – or maybe because I am religionless – but I love the beauty of uniqueness – I love strength of character; I love characters!  

    My Kitchen Table has empty chairs and is ever expanding in size – I look forward to the new ones I have yet to meet.

    And my kitchen door works both ways. I do understand how some had to leave and more could do so in the future. I part in peace.  I know we lasted our season and reason. Not all are meant to be life long friends.

     

    I love my Kitchen Table friends for being who they are, and for making me a better Me. My heart is full when I think of you all.

    I hold you in my heart.

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    Dance Party!

  • Off to Show My Soul

    My quilts are rolled up and loaded into the car – their labels have been printed – they are all set to be put on display.

    I was chosen by the Peter White Library Arts Committee to show my art in their Huron Mountain Club Gallery on the first floor at the Library.

    They will be there until May 20th.

    April is Sexual Assault Awareness month, and I am honored to have my Art hanging during this month to help bring awareness. I am hopeful they will bring hope and inspiration to others who also have been victims of abuse.

    May is Mental Health Awareness month.  By sharing my art therapy quilts, they show others they are not alone.  

     

    I believe it was 8 years ago when they were at the Dial Help Gala at Michigan Tech, and I once again feel the excitement and vulnerability.  I am thrilled to have this opportunity and at the same time – shy.

    (I looked back in my blog and the first outing for these quilts was for the 2012 Strawberry Festival Quilt Show – almost a decade ago.)

     

    Sharing my Art Therapy quilts is to share parts of my journey that holds much stigma.

    Being able to walk without fear into the Huron Mountain Gallery and shake out each quilt and put it under the spotlight – is equal to walking in naked.

    Yet I told a friend the other day, that vulnerability is courage.

    It is true.

    You gotta be a badass to display details others keep secret.

     

    What I know for sure is that the more of us who show our imperfections, the easier it is for others to deal with theirs.  For so long the goal of life it seemed was to be perfect.  Allowing for imperfections feels more real to me.

    I am not interested in perfection.

    Even in my quilts and art.

    I quilt by feelings.

    I live by feelings.

    I make mistakes and errors – both in life and art.

    That is the way.

     

    So, if you are in the Marquette area and are interested in Art, Art Therapy, and my journey – stop in the Peter White Library.   They are also going to have many of the books that helped me on my journey on display in the gallery or nearby.  

    If you do, drop me a note.

    Off to show my soul.

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  • Comfortable in a Very Uncomfortable World.

    I am reading "Atlas of the Heart" by Brené Brown. 

     

    She writes

    "Our anxiety often leads to one of two coping mechanisms: worry or avoidance. Unfortunately, neither of these two coping strategies is very effective.

    Worry and anxiety go together, but worry is not an emotion; it's the thinking part of anxiety. Worry is described as a chain of negative thoughts about bad things that might happen in the future.

    What really got me about the worry research is that those of us with the tendency to worry believe it is helpful for coping (it is not), believe it is uncontrollable (which means we don't try to stop worrying), and try to suppress worry thoughts (which actually strengthens and reinforces worry). I'm not suggesting that we worry about worry, but it is helpful to recognize that worrying is not a helpful coping mechanism, that we absolutely can learn how to control it, rather than suppressing worry, we need to dig into and address the emotion driving the thinking.

    Avoidance, the second copings strategy for anxiety, is not showing up and often spending a lot of energy zigzagging around and away from that thing that already feels like it's consuming us. And avoidance isn't benign. It can hurt us, hurt other people and lead to increased and mounting anxiety. In her book The Dance of Fear, Dr. Harriet Lerner writes, "It is not fear that stops you from doing the brave and true thing in your daily life. Rather, the problem is avoidance. You want to feel comfortable, so you avoid doing or saying the thing that will evoke fear and other difficult emotions.  Avoidance will make you feel less vulnerable in the short run, but will never make you less afraid."

     

    Okay, here is what I didn't know – yet knew – worry and avoidance are not effective.  I didn't know that worry was the thinking part of anxiety. But it makes total sense. Our minds go on a wild negative journey and keep us from feeling our emotions.  I didn't know that either.  I was kept from my own emotions by worry. 

    And we use avoidance – in order to stay comfortable.  I so get this. This avoidance kept me from living my life as me. From feeling my emotions, from really being in my body.

    I think, I thought anxiety was nervousness or unsureness – but instead it is the mechanism used to keep us from facing our truths.  

    And this – "Avoidance will make you feel less vulnerable in the short run, but will never make you less afraid."  How counterintuitive is this – we supposedly avoid to feel less afraid – yet it doesn't work.

    I do know for certain my whole state of being was drastically altered when I began walking forward into very tough and scary truths and faced my life, my family head on. It was like blowing through all the worry gates and anxiety barriers.

    What I didn't know at the time was that I was walking towards feeling less afraid.

     

    Brené goes on.

     

    "The entire premise of this book is that language has the power to define our experiences, and there's no better example of this than anxiety and excitement.

    Anxiety and excitement feel the same, but how we interpret and label them and determine how we experience them.

    Even though excitement is described as an energized state of enthusiasm leading up to or during an enjoyable activity, it doesn't always feel great. We can get the same "coming out of our skin" feeling that we experience when we're feeling anxious. Similar sensations are labeled "anxiety" when we perceive them negatively and "excitement" when we perceive them positively. One important strategy when we're in these feelings is total a deep breath and try to determine whether we're feeling anxiety or excitement. Researchers found that labeling the emotion as excitement seems to hinge on interpreting the bodily sensations as positive. The labels are important because they help us know what to do next."

     

     

    I do recall hearing this before that anxiety and excitement feel the same.

    We do have to beware how we label what we are feeling.

    And for those of us coming from traumatic backgrounds, especially careful.

    Often our paths into new experiences feel like anxiety – but what if instead we are excited to be learning and growing.  Feeling of excitement often leads us into cool experiences.  Feelings of anxiety not so much.

     

    I also believe, that if we have had tough conversations and faced difficult truths in our worlds, we can better discern what is anxiety and what is excitement.  For the only way anxiety needs to be in our worlds is because we have places and topics and discussions we don't want to face.

    Once you faced your life with brutal honesty, there is really no need for anxiety; for anxiety is there to only keep you comfortable.

    But it is a false sense of comfort. For there is a truth, or difficult conversation, or knowing, that lies right behind it. 

    You are using anxiety to not face a truth.

    And there is a real reason in your world to be in fear.

    Something, someone isn't who you believe them to be.

    This was true for me.

    My whole world was upside down and backwards and I was living with anxiety to keep it all at bay.

    Once I faced it all – the anxiety left me.

    For it was only there to keep me comfortable in a very uncomfortable world.

     

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  • Flowed for generations.

    The legacy of abuse will not end – the string of denial is strong and tied to friendships and the desire to be accepted and loved. It is coated by fun and painted with holiday traditions. It never looks like it really is.

    When family gathers – my estrange family – what bothers me the most is not the fun I am missing out or the lack of relationships I have with them – what grabs my mind and holds on is the potential for more abuse.

    The ways in which nothing has changed and we are into so many generations now.

    How relentlessly they gather.

     

    And, how family gatherings are ripe for abuse when the family legacy carries that thread.

     

    Those who are in denial – see only family and the fun and memories they make.

    And if they read my words, see me as the mental one – out here worried about the children – still.

     

    My head hurts from trying to find an in.

    A way to say what needs to be heard.

     

    The fun that is seen and participated in block the view from what is going on underneath it all.

    Abusers live for these events too – here they can groom and get to know their new victims.

     

    Children that are brought to these events are innocent of what may happen there.

    Innocent that sexual abuse happens in a family where for generations it has been happening.

    They believe in the innocence of the family – that is not innocent.

     

    I sit outside.

    I am not participating.

    I am the one who is in the wrong.

     

    When you think of sexual abuse to children, you often believe that the adults are innocent too. Yet I know this is not so.  Adults who have been abused are now bringing more children in.  All in the name of family and holiday and memories to be made. All at the cost of new little ones being introduced to the inner thread.

     

    It messes me up – every year – every time they gather – I can't not respond with anxiety and angst.

    There will always remain a part of me that wants to warn – to beg and to ask for the children to be kept away.

     

    I recall, sobbing that no one told us a monster lived in our house. That the neighbors and minister didn't care enough.  Yet, what I didn't know is the echoing circles of denial that keep the family and religion going.

    What I used to think is that they kept the secret secret.

    Instead what they do more is keep the family acting like a family or a religion looking like it has morals and values.

     

    They don't have to talk about the abuse – but they do have to keep the family looking like a normal one.

    They have to keep meeting and gathering.

    Being a family.

    Regardless of what lays beneath.

     

    My body responds with frustration indignation and futile knowing – that no matter what I say to whom and how articulate – family will gather – and grooming of the new little ones begins.

     

    I didn't know that this would ever be part of the healing journey – that I would know – and so many would not.  That not only would I know, but I could speak and not be heard. I could shout it to the rooftops and nothing would change. That I could refrain from attending and it would mean nothing.

     

    In Anita Moorjani's book, "Dying to Be Me" she speaks of seeing the world differently and how often she would feel different than others.  How she had to accept that everyone is on their own journey.

    My lesson is to accept those who are in denial.

    Accept that they want family acceptance and to be in the circle of family, regardless of its contents.

     

    Accept that there is nothing more I can do – for anyone.

    Accept that their choices are beyond my power.

    I also have to accept that something within them feels off.

    That a truth is being denied and their bodies feel it.

    And, that someday, they will be able to live, speak and act from their inner knowing.

    That they will be strong enough to go against the family grain.

     

    I can be the model of stepping out.

    of not participating – in order to put an end to the legacy of abuse.

    I may not be able to even spare all in my own family tree.

    I must accept that too.

     

    My power is limited to me.

    I can only live my truth.

     

    In the past 16 years since my awareness – I bear witness to the legacy of family continuing on heedless.

    I had to look up bear witness – and it means "to show that something exists or is true."

    Perhaps I thought I could show abuse – but instead I show how the legacy continues.

    How abuse gets covered up by family holidays and social gatherings.  How normal it is made to appear.

     

    It is to bear witness to hell – masquerading as family.

     

    There are two viewpoints going on at once – yet only one is ever focused on.

    Only one is ever on display and shown out-loud.

    But the ramifications of the other are in the actual lives lived.

    The dysfunction is not hidden for long.

    The body never lies and the truth leaks out in unsuccessful relationships.

    It is revealed in the un-ease, the awkward at best, displays of love.

     

    Who I was within the family and muffled in denial – and how I loved and lived – is  the complete opposite of who I am today.

     

    I can have empathy and understanding for those who gather wanting the family.

    Yet, I know it is a selfish act. For I know the cost it has on the children.

     

    I drove the van to my parents house – I brought my children – I have been part of the masquerade – I was on stage trying to make that family work – and I know the cost.  My denying my feelings and how my body held the truth – didn't matter.  Abuse didn't care what I denied or did not – it moves and is grateful you arrive and with children.

    I didn't end up with a solid moral family with values.

    I ended up with more abuse.

     

    Sometimes the human journey seems pointless and cruel.

     

    Other times it is perfectly orchestrated.

     

    Those in denial would keep a family going – for their actions are those of someone who isn't aware.

    I looked up denial again "the action of declaring something to be untrue."

    So each time they gather as a family it is declaring that the abuse is untrue.

    For it is an oxymoron for abuse and family to be as one.

     

    One of the main themes in my childhood was keeping up appearances.  The way others saw us.

    And, this trait still goes on today.  I had to be brighter than the darkest abuse that lived in our family.

    Better, cleaner, kinder, to name a few.

     

    Often when my sisters gather they will re-do or clean or declutter a family member's home.

    I see this and feel the desire to add a new layer to the thread of abuse. To cover up to make it shine to bring joy and beauty to a broken family.  For years I helped carry the family and its broken pieces. 

    In awareness I put them all down – and as a wise man once said, in the exact same spot I picked them up.

    Each of us gets to heal our own broken pieces. And, I can't know what it will take to make your awareness shine through.

    I am grateful to the ones who see like I do.

     

    Holidays are not holidays for me – but triggers to all that is still wrong.

     

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    When you poke your head up into awareness for the first time; all you may see are huge messes everywhere – but all it is is the truth your mind denied.

    I feel like this turtle, seeing what so many disregard.

    The truth has legs (from Martha Beck's book "The Way of Integrity" and will not rest, even if you do.

     

    What explodes my mind is I see abuse, while others see love/family.

    What I know is you have no love of self inside, if you can bring a child to a family where abuse has flowed for generations.

     

     

  • I will be her – until…

     

     

     

    I am reading her book "Between Two Kingdoms" – well listening to her read her book. I love the way she re-frames things in order for her to really live life.

    We often feel like there is a 'correct' way of being.

    And, that after life interrupting events, there is a 'normal' place that is waiting for us to arrive.

     

    What I know from experience, the quicker you can disregard the ideas of normal – or believing that you are 'supposed' to be this way or that, the quicker you will find a new stride.

    The new stride doesn't have to feel easy or comfortable.

    The new way of being means you are okay with you.

     

    The 'after' you.

     

    She is right in saying that the hardest part was after the trauma.  The hard part is to integrate back to a life.

    A life that now holds a stranger – You.

     

    It isn't as if life itself all alters and reflects your own changes.  Instead we have to adjust ourselves in order to hop back on the merry-go-round called life.

     

    Some of my hardest days came long after leaving my family.

    Long after the last conversation.

     

    More, the hardest part of all, was becoming the new version of me that now held sexual abuse -dysfunctional family- toxic religion. How do I live as this?

     

    She talks about leaving the hospital without the inner scaffolding inside of her.

    THIS, I know way too well.

     

    Inside of us, unbeknownst to us, is a scaffolding that holds us up.

    It is who we know ourselves to be, and fit into the world around us.

    You don't know know that it is there – but you will certainly know when it is no longer there.

     

    Learning to re-build a life after a life interrupting event – takes time.

    And, Fearlessness.

    an, open heart

    and the belief that you can live a life worth living again.

    That you can take the heart that has been shattered, and love from there.

     

    My second build of scaffolding was done by me.

    It was directed by me.

    It is strongly structured by things I know that strengthen me and bring me love, peace and joy.

     

    Early on I realized the before me would never live again.

    I had to find a way to be me, without her and what she was built of.

     

    It is hard to describe the hollow scary spot you get left in – when your scaffolding collapses.

    When there is very little that is holding you up.

     

    I love how she sees the world of two kingdoms and how we move between the two.

    Yet, in estrangement – we mostly are divided into one camp or the other.

    It is rare for us to move between.

    You are either in the family, or out of it.

     

    So, while she worked to assimilate back into society and find a new self.

    I was more learning to live without a family and be that girl – in society.

     

    Our society has placed great value in family.

    With reason.

     

    I too believe in family.

    When family has a pure core.

     

    It is funny, in a peculiar way, that in order to save my own family – I had to leave my family of origin.

     

    If we live long enough, all of us will face some kinds of interruptions in our lives.

     

    The lives we believe will go on forever will, at some point, be changed.

    And, when that happens, you will have to change – in order to live whole.

     

    Accepting the unacceptable – is to live whole.

    Bringing with you all the broken parts and live and love from there.

     

    I have felt that the cost of leaving my family had to equal the value of my new life.

    I needed and sought out a life worth having.

    I intentionally brought in what made my heart happy. 

    I wasn't interested in doing or being fake for the sake of someone or something.

    I needed/wanted a scaffolding of value – as this new me.

     

    The biggest lesson we can learn from her, is that we don't need to be defined by what happened to us, and that we can change who we are when life changes us. And, that all life dark times don't last forever and we can have a wider broader and deepened sense of self – after.

     

    We should teach more of how life can change us.

    How we can live more than one self in our life times.

     

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    I love the 2.2 version of Me.  

    I will be her – until…

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • The Way of Integrity: Finding the Path to Your True Self

    The Way of Integrity: Finding the Path to Your True Self by Martha Beck is a huge affirmation of my journey.  

    Her definition of Integrity.

    "…the word comes from the Latin integer, which simply means "intact".  To be in integrity is to be one thing, whole and undivided."

    I love that our true nature is to be intact. 

     

    Here are a few highlights at the beginning of her book.

    "You're trying to act in ways that don't feel right to you at the deepest level. When ever we do this, our lives begin to go pear shaped. Emotionally, we feel grumpy, sad or numb. Physically, our immune systems and muscles weaken; we might get sick, and even if we don't, our energy flattens. Mentally, we lose focus and clarity. That is how it feels to be out of integrity."

    "And, because our true nature is serious about restoring us to wholeness, it hauls out the one tool that reliably gets our attention: suffering."

    "Integrity is the cure of unhappiness. Period."

    "Of all the strategies and skills I've ever learned, the ones that actually work are those that help people see where they've abandoned their own deep sense of truth and followed some other set of directives. This split from integrity is almost always unconscious. The people who experience it aren't wicked; in fact most of them are perfectly lovely. They strive to cooperate with every rule for living they've learned from their respective cultures. Which is a terrific way to run your life if you like to look good and feel bad."

     

    This book will be on my top ten list of non-fiction books.

     

    The best part of the way to integrity is that we get to be ourselves.

    We get to feel what we feel, and to act accordingly.

    When our intention is to live intact, we use our insides as our guide.

    Truth and seeking it out is what will bring us peace.

     

    She does talk about the pain truth can cause; but how it often is more painful to live not fully intact.

    When I was discovering so many ugly truths, I used to say brilliantly tragic. The brilliance would come after the darkness of truths that were so opposite of what I believed to be true.

    There are many things we don't want to truly know; but when we are brave enough to live in harmony with all truths, we actually become happier. It seems like an oxymoron – but it was true in my experience.

    I highly recommend this book.

    The Way of Integrity, is the way to happiness.

    The pure joy of living life as your whole self.

     

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  • Unfollow

    I just finished listening to Megan Phelps Roper narrate her book, "Unfollow" –  A memoir of loving and leaving the Westboro Baptist Church.

     

    Wow. 

    She was born into this cult.

    Believed, until she began to doubt, question and see.

    Once you see, you can't un-seen or not know.

    What she thought was kindness, was hatred.

    There are places where I can relate to her story.

     

    Becoming aware of the cult, and how it is to be separated from family, due to confused minds.

     

    "Losing them was the price of honesty – a shredded heart for a quiet conscience."

     

    I understand this completely.  We have to do what brings us peace inside, even if it breaks our heart.

     

    While her cult is well known, and mostly for the pain it causes others, there are similarities in how they believe. They too are the only one way; the right way.  That God is on their side.  Which allows them to act in ways that are not kind to others.  

    The shunning of the First Apostolic Lutheran Church to families on the outside, the treatment of innocent children, comes to mind. How they keep others out of their worlds, as much as possible.  Even family who leave.

     

    Her religion is not unusual, for there are so many religions who believe they are the one.

    And everyone else is going to hell – for a myriad of our sinful ways.

    Those on the outside – bad

    and, on the inside – good.

    This isn't a wishy washy thought – it is 'god's rule'.

     

    And, even how when her and her sister got out, how they didn't know how to navigate relationships without the black and whiteness. The in or out.  Good or bad.  Extreme vision of the world.

     

    This is something I still struggle with.  That life isn't this way. There are nuances and individuals. 

    What she and I also know, is that those we do leave behind, have the minds we used to have.  We get it.  Truly.  Understanding, there is no space or wiggle room for individual thought, it is a collective mind.

    You are up against a group belief, a group mind-set – a bunch who believe alike and are afraid to be on the outside, thinking for themselves.

     

    While my main separation was due to sexual abuse, the church was a secondary place where I could see the dysfunctional mind-set.  It was like a double blind brain wash.

    Which leaves very little room for light to enter in.  

     

    I always find comfort in reading about others who were able to leave dysfunctional families and find wholeness on the outside.  I feel less alone and less strange.  And, I feel hope when she was able to leave such a religion of hate and find love.

    While the First Apostolic Lutheran Church doesn't stand outside with signs proclaiming the sins they see in others, their mind-sets are similar.  And, I myself would love to see the signs of all religions, a poster of what they do believe in.

    How kind would their signs read?

     

    What is so interesting to know, is that you can't know what your religion feels like on the outside, UNTIL you are the outside. Same with family.  

    And, if honesty is what sends you outside of the limits, what pray tell is on the inside?

    "A shredded heart for a quiet conscience."

    Perfect words for how I feel.

     

     

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  • Catch and Kill

    I listened to "Catch and Kill – Lies, spies and a conspiracy to protect predators" by Ronan Farrow  -  a Book about Harvey Weinstein, and the way sexual abuse is allowed to flourish.

    I first heard about this book on a podcast, by the same name.  What interests me the most, is how there is active work to keep the predators covered up.  How we often believe, that IF the child/woman/girl told someone, then the abuse would end.

    It is shocking and not so shocking to listen to the elaborate ways so many worked to NOT help the women.

    And, secondly, the author's father is a pedophile, so some tried to say he had an axe to grind.  Which is so odd on many levels.  He wanted the truth to be told.  He wanted the women to have a voice.  He wanted the abuse to end. He wanted the man to be stopped

    Which, it would seem is a normal and natural response to hearing about sexual abuse. And yet, it is not.  What is way more normal, is the cover-up and the ways so many will try  to attack the women.

    Their lives, pasts and presents are picked apart – they become the focus NOT the perpetrator of the crime.

    The decades these crimes cover, is not because women/girls don't tell.  It is because there is a network that works to secure it is never known.

    In this decade of #MeToo we are coming to learn, that it isn't the lack of reporting.  It is the lack of uncovering.

    The support and protection the abuser gets is mind-blowing.

    In comparison to those who line up behind the ones abused.

     

    NBC and their lack of reporting, and the way they too knew about Matt Laurer, shows how power is power.

    Rape and sexual assault is not about sex; it is about power.

    And, in order for you to expose the abuser, you have to often fight a powerful machine.

     

    What I find hope in, is that more women are still speaking out, regardless of knowing they will be scrutinized not the abuser.  More books are being written to show the landscape and culture of rape AND who is allowing it to continue.

     

    The lengths they go to cover up sexual assault boggles my mind.

    Perhaps, if there is an actual cost to their reputation for knowing and doing nothing, policies will change.

    NBC knew and did nothing.

    When you listen to the headlines, question who has the most to lose.

    What would a religion have to lose IF they admitted to supporting abusers?

    And, look at those who are willing to speak up, knowing they will be dragged through mud for standing up to these powerful entities. Strong women will be changing this culture, along with brave men who will support them.  

    Thank you Ronan Farrow!

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    The truth is often hidden under layers of untruths.

    (Catch and Kill – means to catch the story and kill it before it gets aired.) 

     

     

     

  • Do Something

    In the audible book "Twisted – The story about Larry Nassar and the Women Who Took Him Down"  a comment was made about – how the perpetrator needs everyone to do nothing. And, doing nothing is the easiest thing to do.

     

    This may not seem earth shattering to most; but it resonated with me.

     

    When an incident happens, two choices will appear for each of us.

    What will I do with this new information?

    What am I willing to do?

    Something,

    or Nothing.

     

    I don't believe that most people are thinking what is good, or not good, for the perpetrator. Rather, mostly what is good or not good, for themselves.

     

    Sadly, the choice of doing something is rarely chosen.

    Nothing is the clear winner.

    Nothing is easier.

    Nothing is what the abuser needs you to do.

     

    Each of us can project the future based on if we do nothing or something.

    We can know our circle will respond in two different ways, depending upon how we choose.

     

    I am unable to articulate deeply the avenue of nothing.  I can however speak of doing something.

     

    The something respond is not pretty.  And, you will not be welcomed with open arms when you do something.

    Doing something is the start of a fight.

    A win-less fight.

     

    Doing something to change the perception of a person is not an easy task.

    Doing something to interrupt the blind faith of a religion is near impossible.

    Doing something to shed light into family secrets; terrifying.

     

    The doing something will require you to stand strong and most often alone.

    Doing something will require you to set boundaries; where no boundaries have stood before.

     

    In listening to the book "Twisted" you will be able to see why it is so hard to do something, against the sea of people who are hell bent to believe in the innocence, compared to the crime. And often there is system in place to protect the abuser or really the reputation, the organization, the family.

     

    And, there is a goal or dream attached to believing in the innocence.  A dream or goal, that is hard to let go of.  A future is planned and in that future an abuser is not part of.

    We, who do something, are seen as home wreckers, career and reputation wreckers. That we are responsible for the damage, not the ones doing nothing.

    It is so backwards, that my own mind has a tough time with it.

     

    The ones doing nothing are seen as kind, loving and caring.

    Doing nothing; but perhaps forgiving.  Even forgiving is kinder than doing something.

    The doing nothing is easier in fact, if you forgive.

     

    Perhaps their doing something is to be forgiving.

     

    Our life history has shown that the most common response is nothing.

    Our legacy of abuse lining both sides of my family shows its true. Nothing is the way we do things. Or at least, not something different.

     

    The ones who do do something, are rare and often leave the family.

    Here is a lengthy article about family scapegoats.  

    No Contact! The scapegoat walks away

    I am not sure that is what I see myself as, but there are common threads.  I can't know how I am seen by my family today. I know how I have been treated; for doing something.

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    Something has to change, in order for change to begin arriving.

    In the news, we have seen big organizations fighting to keep their reputations when abuse is know; by keeping up their appearances.  By not exposing what is in their midst, in order to look okay. 

     

    Larry Nassar, according to this book, abused about 500 girls. Many girls over many decades spoke up, and nothing was done. Nothing but perhaps covering him up.

    Nothing to stop him.

    Nothing to shine a bad light upon Gymnastics and Michigan State University.

    Nothing to change the image of him being a doctor.

     

    His case is not so unusual, only in that he was finally caught.

    There are many abusers, who bank on the notion, that we will do nothing.

    We won't wreck havoc in our family, church, organization, work and sport.

    That we won't interrupt his/her cycle of abusing.

     

    The only other way Larry Nassar would have stopped was by his own death.

    What is so incredibly hard is the lives of the victims he has left in his wake. The pain and trauma in their lives.  And, it wasn't even his singular pain, but the pain of others knowing and doing nothing.

    Those after blows are mind shattering, heart wrenching agony.  To know, that others knew and did nothing. 

    I am hopeful that we are leaning towards honoring those who dare do something.