I M Perfect lady

Category: Call Me Mental

  • Celebrate my Badassery.

    It is the eve of 19 years.

    Nineteen years of leaving behind the only life I had known to dare dream of changing the legacy I was born into.

     

    This wasn't a dream of mine.

    The truth fell into me – and once you know – you can't not know.

     

    The woman who began this legacy changing journey was only a seed of an idea.

    I had no role models or anyone to help guide me along.

    My body and I felt our way forward.

     

    We didn't blink or make pretty all the what is – there are in life.

    No matter how the truth presented itself, we accepted it.

     

    Loving what is – as Byron Katie says.

     

    I had to love the shocking, heartbreaking, and the betrayals – from family and friends – and embrace reality.

     

    In the early years this was hard – for I wasn't used to standing shoulder to shoulder with my truths and how reality was.

     

    Coming from a family of child sexual abuse, there are so many truths that are unspoken and unaddressed – and I was now the one speaking the unspeakable.

     

    I would not have dreamed that 19 years later I would still be standing alone outside my family of origin – 13 siblings and one parent are alive and well – and continuing to spin the old family legacy – repeating and repeating.

     

    Like an endless mad musical – barely missing a beat.

     

    I remember in years of past December 4th was a hard date.

    Breaking my heart as I still stood alone.

     

    My heart isn't as exposed or bare – and maybe more love and peace and joy have surrounded it and hold it up.  

     

    I feel grateful.

    Deeply grateful for my journey today. I would not trade it for anything.

     

    I am in awe of where I walked, how long and how alone – and yet fully supported by others – non family that feel like family.

     

    My vision was for the generations behind me – not those who I started walking with. In the early days I could feel the weight of having others step in my footprints.

    Those foot prints had to matter.

    They had to be clear, honest and bold.

     

    My intentions were to stand against abuse. 

    Against those who supported abuse.

    The line to me was clearly seen.

     

    The only way was to walk differently.

    To respond differently.

    To love differently.

    To eagerly welcome all truths and respond in kind.

     

    This woman who sits here today is in awe and has such enormous gratitude to the younger me who set out on this journey, alone, broken and so laid bare. I had no way of knowing I would get to here.

     

    Here being a fuller version of me.

     

    A legacy changer.  A woman who will stand up to family and authority and to lead herself where others feared to go. 

     

    I had to give up the life I had – in order to get the life I could be proud of.

     

    The younger me who sat with the detective – only knew she would stand beside the little girl inside of her. The wounded Me.  It appeared at that time, she was the only one who would.

     

    Those first weeks, months and years were some of my hardest lived.  Yet they also carried with them empowering strength building. 

     

    In denial we deny what is, the truth, and even how we feel or what we want.

    Living a truthful life it is the opposite. 

    Nothing can be denied.

    For to deny is to deny who you are.

     

    On this eve 19 years later, I am who I am there is no denying.

    I am comfortable with the new me and the changes I have made.

    I am curious of where my family is, what they think and how they feel.

    Mostly though, these 19 years later – I think of them less and less.

    My life has filled the holes where they used to be.

     

    I could sit with what I lost – Or I can celebrate what I have gained.

     

    I will celebrate tomorrow. 

    Me

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    And the journey.

    I will celebrate being the woman I needed way back then.

    I will celebrate my badassery.

     

     

  • Their Own Child

    How many people are aware of things they are wrong about? Most of us were not taught discernment or have the ability to change our minds/beliefs.  

     

    I was raised in a black and white world. I was taught that 'our' church is the only church going to heaven. I was taught that everyone outside of the church was evil.  I was programmed to see the world with a myopic lens.  Very very narrow and completely and utterly wrong.

     

    It was embarrassing and mind blowing and brilliantly thrilling to see how wrong I was.

     

    I am not sure I can articulate the mind I had and how I saw the world. How I saw a father instead of a pedophile, a mother instead of an accomplice, a church of high morals and values instead of a cult that covered up generation upon generation of sexual abuse, physical abuse, and blessed away the truths.

     

    Not only was I not in the 'right' church, I wasn't even in my right mind.  I had been completely brainwashed.

    Why I am writing about this is there are so many 'christian' folks who believe they are dead to right on so many issues that are anything but black and white. They believe that they can see the world and the people in it through the correct lens.

     

    But, their moral high ground – is not filled with morality integrity compassion or love.

    I would have sworn years ago that my mother was a woman of substance, that she would not have tolerated any evil doings.  For the love of God, she didn't allow television, earrings and make-up, swearing, lying and cheating – when we were growing up. She didn't believe in birth control or divorce or stepping out of her faith. The list of sins are long and she abided by them.  She was a christian. She was a member of the First Apostolic Lutheran Church. She belonged and was accepted and she viewed the outside world as worldly, evil and any number of negative adjectives.   And YET.  She was married to a pedophile. Knew it. Covered it up. Helped him. 

     

    There seems to be this really weird compartmentalizing that goes on. 

    Where they have their faith.

    The faith that is unshakable and blocks seeing any evil INSIDE of the religion. Inside of their homes. But the outside oh man the wrong doings they can see.  AND the judgement on those folks.  

    They literally cannot see how backwards they see and how it has dire consequences for the innocent children in their charge.  

     

    Many of the conservative christian women have given up the rights to their own bodies.

    In some little ways and then in life altering ways. They are controlled and don't know it.

     

    These closed minded folks believe THEY should be the ones deciding things.

    Based on what???

    Years and years of living in a small tight circle of likeminded folks – being controlled by the elders?

    Who have sat in judgement and condemned those who live differently.

    Folks who have not been able to see themselves from the outside looking in.

     

    I only knew how backwards I was, when my world flipped upside right.

    The world wasn't backwards, I WAS.

    I cannot emphasize this enough. I WAS WRONG.  

     

     

    What I know to be most true is the feelings I had towards myself and others while IN the church and the how my feelings change after leaving.

    The night and day difference is mind shattering. Literally. 

     

    While they may feel love, compassion, joy and peace IS in the conservative church and that forgiveness of sins IS the only way to heaven and being in the one right and true church, it is all fear.

    Fear of the outside.

    Fear of sins.

    Fear of the body and it's connection to the devil (we were told)

    Fear of hell

    Fear of not following, conforming, not being part of.

    The list of fears are endless.

     

    There are grown ass adults who won't leave – due to the shunning.  They are not staying in because of LOVE, they are in the church out of fear of finding out there is no love when you leave.

    If these religions were based on love.  

    Love is freedom.

    Period.  

    They would not want to be in charge of making choices for anyone. Period.

     

    Love doesn't have conditions.

    Love honors truths.

    Love doesn't control.

    Love allows others to be who they were born to be.

    Love lets each person walk their own walk – knowing we don't know what is in their hearts.

    Love doesn't take their power away. 

    Love empowers.

     

     

    The only church I have found that can embrace my wide open heart and mind is nature.

     

    When my world was falling a part. I no longer fit into my family of origin and the old church members began to shun me. I was fully accepted and embraced by the sunshine, the earth, the trees; nature.

    My nature matched it.

     

    My imperfections were perfect.

     

    What I want women to know is your choices is yours.

    Your journey is yours.

    Your heart knows what it knows.

     

    Empowered women, empower women.

     

    If this reversal shows anything, it will show the narrow cold hearts of so many christians.  It is through narrow eyes and fear full hearts they see the world.

     

    My question is, who is on the right side of this? Who has the most open mind and heart? Who walks with compassion and will hold up these women who find themselves in circumstances that few will know unless they walked there.

     

    I don't believe folks can make laws/rules etc until they have walked in those shoes.

     

    I know many conservative faithful women are standing in righteous contempt and believe to the depth of their souls they get it and are voting for a life.

     

    I am also quite sure there are leagues of women who have blessed away sins of sexual abuse of a child – and think they are child advocates. Really.  

    I know from my experiences, women of my old church who will stand against abortion; but cannot, will not, stand against the men who are hurting children. They can't stand for the children in the congregation – let alone an unknown, unborn child.

     

    I have spoken to many over the years who know someone in their family is committing sexual assault on children – but the only thing they get from our conversations, in the end – is that I am trying to get them to leave the church, to put down their faith and they won't.  

    I am not.

    I am trying to get them to see that a child's innocence may be worth more than their faith. They disagree. The conversations stop.

    They will not leave the church. 

     

    How can they stand for up for a child. AND, one that is outside of their church?

    Come on.  We are all soiled evil unbelievers -and I am worse I left. 

    I know this is off the subject. But, what I want to share is how backwards their minds, hearts and beliefs are.  AND, these are the ones who are saying they stand for a child.

    No they don't.

    They stand for their faith. Period.

    It only sounds christian like to stand for a child.

    But, if you won't stand for yours, how will you stand for one outside of your faith.

     

    I know this is a long and rambling post.

    But I have no faith in the women of faith.

    The women who put their faith before anything. Anything even their own child.

     

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  • My Lady and I

    My Story Line quilts are heading to Marquette at the end of March. They will be on display in the Huron Mountain Club Gallery, at the Peter White Library, for two months. 

    They have been on display at Copper Country Mental Health for about 6 years.  

    I was reminded as to how long, when a memory popped up on Facebook, of me and the photojournalist who interviewed me for Call Me Mental.  

    I am excited they will have a new audience.  And, they will be there for Sexual Abuse Awareness month, and Mental Health awareness month.  

    It will be fun for me to have them home, for me to look them over, and see if the writings I have for each one needs to be updated or re-written in some way.   I had hurriedly created words for each quilt, when I knew they would be recognized at Copper Country Mental Health.  I wanted an explanation, or what the quilt's message was for me.

    I will be bringing them home next week.

    I can look over each one and see how they are holding up, and sit with each quilt and their message.  A reunion I am looking forward to.

     

    I also have to come up with six sentences about the quilts and I.

    Six lines that will encapsulate the art, and the artist.

     

    I called my show – My Lady and I, the same as the title of the book I created many years ago.

     

    My Lady and I collection – Is a fabric journal of a woman's inner journey from denial into self-awareness.  

    Denial of self, and my sexual abuse as a child; an inward journey to find love, peace, and joy, by embracing my imperfections.

    My art and I evolved together; as my self esteem grew, so did the woman in my quilts.

    I loved my lady; the freedom she had to be herself – and found out she was Me.

    My lady and I are still doing art, still growing and becoming.  When she and I are not playing, I deliver mail 6 days a week, and I am a mother of 4 and grandmother of 2, and a wife of 32 years.

     

    That sounds like a good PR Statement.

    I am excited to go on the road again with My Lady!

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    Six years ago at a reception – that Joe Freed arranged at Copper Country Mental Health.

     

  • Soul Danced

    More from "Will I Ever Be Good Enough" by Karyl McBride.

    "Self-trust, self-love, and self-knowledge can be taught to a daughter only by a mother who possesses those qualities herself. Furthermore, to pass them on successfully, a mother needs to have created an engaged and balanced relationship with her daughter. One of the problems with narcissism is that it does not allow for balance. Daughters of narcissistic mothers live in family environments that are extreme. True to their legacy of distorted love, which has been carried over from generation to generation, most narcissistic mothers either severely over-parent (the engulfing mother) or severely under-parent (the ignoring mother). Although these two parenting styles are seemingly opposite, to a child raised with either narcissistic style, the impact of the opposite is the same. Your self-image becomes distorted and feelings of insecurity seem impossible to shake.

    The engulfing mother smothers, seemingly unaware of her daughter’s unique needs or desires. Perhaps you were raised like this. If so, it is likely that the natural talents you had, the dreams you wanted to pursue, and maybe even the relationships most important to you were rarely nurtured. Your mother constantly sent messages to you about who she needed you to be, instead of validating who you really were. Desperate to merit her love and approval, you conformed, and in the process, lost yourself.

     If you were raised by an ignoring mother, the message she gave you over and over was that you were invisible. She simply did not have enough room in her heart for you. As a result, you were dismissed and discounted. Children with severe ignoring mothers do not receive even the most basic requirements of food, shelter, clothing or protection, let alone guidance and emotional support. Lack of a consistent home environment may have made you feel insecure, unhealthy, or unsuccessful at school. Emotional and physical neglect sends you the message that you don’t matter.

    Having a narcissistic mother, whether she is engulfing or ignoring, makes individuation— a separate sense of self— difficult for a daughter to accomplish. Daughters with unmet emotional needs keep going back to their mothers, hoping to gain their love and respect at a later date. Daughters who have a full emotional “tank” have the confidence to separate in a healthy fashion, and move on into adulthood. Later, in the recovery chapter, we will address this in greater depth. For now, let’s look at the different faces of engulfing and ignoring mothers and their effects on daughters. Karyl

     

    Here is what was puzzling even to me.  I was a narcissistic mother and did not know it.

    The devastating moment in my life when my world fell apart, was when I found a very small self that I followed.  This self is the self that was hidden far beneath the layers of narcissism.

    The self that the church didn't want.

    The self that my mother didn't see.

    The self that I never even knew existed.

    I was self-less, worthless and never enough.  And, when I mothered from there, I gave distorted love.  I didn't see my children as themselves; but an extension of me.  

    On the spectrum I was; perhaps not the worst, but I was clearly there.

    I had to be.

    Coming from whence I came.

    While I have written about my waking up from denial or that denial is my mental illness.  I didn't know that it had a more clinical name.  Narcissism.

    I can clearly remember how I would mother from the far poles of extremes. 

    I can also remember being mothered that way.

    Where it was either all controlling or nothing at all.

    The silence of disapproval deafening.

    The widest hole or biggest gap in the dialogue between me and my estranged family IS the middle.

    Its option isn't available to us.

    They don't even know they are wearing a spectrum of narcissism.

    I find this wildly exciting and completely horrifying to be a recovering narcissistic.

    But my life and world makes more sense.

    I had such issues with my mother, that did seem to go beyond her religious zealous, but I couldn't define it, until this book.

    I knew she played a bigger part in my own dysfunction…that was equal to or greater than my father's sexual abuse.

    I marvel at the hurdles I have had to overcome to be at peace and love myself.

    In the recovery part of the book, we are supposed to come up with "gifts" from our narcissistic parents. That no one is all bad. We did receive good from them too.

    I don't know what my list would hold.

    What good has come from them?

    Perhaps I will need more distance to see this.

    My recovery may be too new.

    The wound barely healed.

    My sights have been on what I have denied, the bad destructive behaviors that I called normal had to be uncovered, felt, and re-worked.

    I will let the list be for now.

    What I know for sure, is how grateful I am to have been given the opportunity to live a life the opposite from being a narcissistic. To be free and self-loving. To live from the middle.

    I also know, that when I find myself in the land of extremes, it is another aspect of narcissism I have to heal.

    What also came to me today, as I pondered the book, was that my estranged family too are on the spectrum. They also have experienced maternal narcissism as their nurturing. 

    As we are separated physically, we are completely attached via the legacy of distorted love that we were given.

    The reason we can't communicate and understand each other is they are still speaking the language of distorted love and I don't love like that no more.

    How grateful am I that I was able to finally see myself. Even if the self was so small it was barely discernible. 

    This little spark is what I mothered, while I simultaneously mothered my children.

    Each sense of self and love, and self trust that grew, so did my ability to nurture.

    It is wildly incredible that a raging narcissist was in charge of healing me. 

    Of recovering the little innocent girl and allowing that little girl to overcome the narcissistic.

    Amazing.

    I knew that there was a mental lady in charge of me finding myself.

    and, loving myself.

    Trusting that the small little self could lead me towards love, peace and joy!

    And, she did!

    Perhaps that is the gift I am most grateful for. 

    The mental lady allowed me to take the lead.

    And, my soul danced!

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  • Your Lens

    From David Cowardin's book "Down South Justice"

    "The words of Charles Bukowski's famed poem, 'Roll the Dice'…"

    "If you are going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start.  This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days.  It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail.  It could mean derision. It could mean mockery-isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are tests of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way.  There is no other feeling like that.  You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is."

    What I learned about the people Down South is that there are two sides; one working for the rights of animals and the other ignoring them completely.

    The passion or mission that the rescuers live with is remarkable; how they are willing to go into dark places for the rights of innocent dogs.

    It seems in order for humanity to see its own actions, there needs to be people out there willing to shine lights upon it.  Willing to step into the dark places and rescue the abused.  Even when all appears hopeless.  When it appears you are fighting generations of thinking that doesn't include empathy.  Or maybe where power is gotten by beating those weaker than you.  

    Who among us are willing to lose it all in order to try and lend sway to an old mind set?  

    You truly have to believe to the core of your being YOU are making a difference….in at least the very few lives you touch.  You can't change it all, but you can make change.

    I applaud the people in the South who are going against the old mind set and affecting change in many animals lives…while trying to poke holes in old beliefs.

    How interesting to see the worthless way they (abusers) view animals….and how that translates into other areas of their world.

    David also writes about the correlation between how those abusing dogs cycle up to humans as well.

    "Animal cruelty affects more than the animal, more than the rescuer, more than the taxpayers wallet, and more than a study correlating animal abuse with other domestic crimes. It leaves a permanent stain on society and immeasurable pain on innocent families."

    "Aiden was in the first grade. He loved football. But he never was given a fair shot at a future. He became another tragedy of the culture of animal cruelty."  David

    When David and I were filming my segment on "Call Me Mental" I told him, that victims of child sexual abuse were like these dogs he found Down South needing to be rescued….but, that their wounds were not clearly seen.

    While he could clearly see the horrific abuse against animals…it wouldn't be so easy to show the scars of human to human abuse.

    The heroes he writes about and the unthinkable abuses of animals seem to be clearly defined.  And, yet his story shows it is not.

    Those who are abusing…are not aware.

    For if they truly could see value in the animal….there would be no abuse.

    And, then no need for rescuers.

    The meer fact that there needs to be rescuers…means there are people who are unaware.

    This unawareness towards the feelings of other is the cross roads for abuse.

    Something within them can't see value or connect with another's feelings.

    While it seems impossible that there are people who will willingly and righteously hurt animals; the same holds true for people.

    Value and feelings are what is important; not the container in which they are held.

    Perhaps what makes the efforts of rescue so maddening IS that we can't legislate value and feelings.

    Just as in Child Abuse cases; we can't force parents to feel value or connect with feelings.

    It is my humble belief that those who are abusing have zero self-value and are disconnected from their own feelings…for we truly see and project onto the world who we are.

    And, many are just doing what generations before them have done.

    Once powerless…they grow up and become the powerful; gaining their power by doing to others what was done to them.  The cycle continues.

    There are those among us who are willing to roll the dice to end abuse.

    As I finished this book last night…I remember looking at David across the table as I told him how alone I was…estranged from family.  And, he said, "you are not alone…you have me and many others."

    He is right.

    I thought of how many silently and boisterously are with me…how strangers have become friends.  

    The new ones who I have friended have walked with me on this new pathway that cycles away from abuse. They have held spaces for me to speak and share my story…they have listened and offered compassion.

    Many are doing what they can to help those who are trying to right themselves after abuse.  Some of my newest friends are like me.  They have traveled similar roads and are heading toward brighter futures…free from abuse.

    The author of the poem is right.

    "If you are going to try, go all the way."

    I see no halfway out of abuse.

    And on the other side are new people who see and feel your value.

    Thanks David for being you!  I love how you share you completely as you investigate the lives of others. You strength is your vulnerability and we feel valued looking into your lens.

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  • Changed Direction

    When I think of my Art and its journey, I am pleased that my most soulful quilts are on display at Copper Country Mental Health.  I love that in order for you to see them, you have to be willing to step into a place where their work is to see your wounds.  

    As an adult child who lived 46 years with unacknowledged abuse….by others AND myself, I find it poignant and perfectly fitting for my journey with Art Therapy, that my Art lead me there.

    There is a line in the latest episode of "Call Me Mental" where she says, "I am my own client."  

     

    I know exactly what she means.  I am walking with those who I am writing for or when I am talking at workshops…I am speaking to me.  I am one of them!

    My last two blogs have gotten comments that brought with them new realizations.

    One being the idea of "Moving forward or leaving the past behind."

    As I sat with the sentiment of how my family sees me as stuck for the past 10 years with the abuse, I have actually moved on.  I see them stuck in the patterns of abuse, doing what has been done for generations within my family tree. 

    And, while they think I am stuck with the 'issue' of abuse, I am actually processing and letting go….as well as changing my actions and my thoughts and beliefs.

    I am not stuck….they are.

    It was incredible when I discovered the insanity of denial believing that they are moving ahead of the abuse, while they literally are engaged in its dance.

    Meanwhile, as I write, blog, speak and do Art….am seen as the one still there.

    While I have left the stage 10 years ago.

    I am my own client of how you can overcome and get back your life and your power after abuse.

    I have literally been walking myself back to me!

    Unstuck and moving on!

    Speaking of "Call Me Mental" this too was another symbol of my unstuckness.

    I am on a documentary about mental illness and speaking about how sexual abuse affects the way our minds, thoughts and feelings develop….I am moving toward healing as I speak of it.  As I speak of how Art Therapy helped me raise my self-esteem etc.

    I know that their minds will not allow them to see me as the one moving forward in a positive way….and that they are actually the ones stuck in the past, refusing to accept their responsibility in moving the abuse agenda forward.

    While I am with my wounds and working toward recovery…I am speaking out.  I am setting up boundaries.  I am doing what is positive for a healthy recovery.  I am my own client in changing the pattern of abuse!

    I am Moving On….positively….I have left the past and my old behaviors behind.

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    This is one of my very favorite works of art!  

    And, this is my branch….

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    I moved….and changed direction!  Thanks Michele Cedarquist….I will treasure it always!

     

  • Fueled By Our Truth

    Elizabeth Gilbert asked to share a photograph of when you felt the most powerful.  It is odd, it isn't the one where your hair was perfect, you body size at its best and the right outfit.  

    "Generally speaking, the deepest kind of power doesn’t have much to do with anyone else at all. Nothing to do with status, nothing to do with reputation, nothing to do with winning.

    Because you can achieve all that stuff (status, reputation, victory) and still feel lost as hell. 

    No, true power comes from standing in your own truth and walking on your own path.

    That's it.

    When you are operating from that place (standing in your truth; walking on your path) you are the mightiest thing that has ever lived. Nothing can harm you."  Elizabeth Gilbert

    I have a great slide show of memories of me being powerful. 

    Perhaps one that began the roll was facing my mother.

    Staying with my truth against her perceptions and beliefs of our shared history.

    To dare and face her down. Or maybe more true, to dare stand UP for me.

    And to be the Guest Speaker at the Dial Help Gala, with My Story Line quilts so beautifully showcased….to speak to an audience about being estranged due to abuse.

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    I was reading Rythea Lee's quote ""The people who have lost their parents and families due to abuse deserve the utmost respect and support. These people have risked it all to heal and stand up for the truth. These people are heroes and angels who hold a horrific reality for everyone else. They have suffered and escaped, and for that, I bow my head in reverence." — at Michigan Technological University.

    To speak at "Take Back the Night" being the voice of a victim who no longer cowers in silence and shame.  

    To standing in Copper Country Mental Health, surrounded again by my quilts and speaking about my healing journey from abuse.  

    1234410_10153263504400594_821554407_nWhat I love is that I am not sad; but seem to be in my Element!

    And then to "Call Me Mental"…the documentary film that is still in progress. (This was almost exactly one year ago.  Feb. 10th)

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    It is remarkable, even to me, how comfortable I was talking about the quilts and Me and my breakdown into reality…  

    And, as I was looking through these photographs, I see how I have been so lovingly handed from one new friend to another…

    How I was able to be open and trust that my words would be heard…that I would be seen; and my truth recognized.  

    That is what gave me power!

    Oprah says we all want to be acknowledged.

    "Can You see me and does what I say matter?"

    I feel very grateful for all the opportunities and my ability to say Yes and step out of my comfort zone.  To be a visual reminder to many that our power is fueled by our truth.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Problems with Me.

    I was asked if I had made a "Resolutions" this year and I said, "No, I didn't for this year."  And, the reply was, "Everyone has something to improve." To which I responded, "I am okay today…"

    This led me to look up "Resolution".

    "A firm decision to do or not to do something."

    "The act of solving a problem or dispute, or contentious matter."

    So, "New Year's Resolutions are a firm decision to do or not to do something, to solve a problem, dispute or contentious matter." 

    It is the act of solving a problem….again, one that is typically an issue with our self.

    I wondered if we would all be further ahead to work on acceptance?

    What if we didn't see a problem?

    It appears to me that the real dispute is with who we are today and 'wishing' we were something else.  

    Not being pleased with ourselves in this moment of time.

    What if we made a firm decision to see no problems?

    Aren't most of our problems again NOT accepting what is?

    Resolutions are to fix problems…

    Would it not be better, to not see ourselves, (as we are today), as a problem?

    Feeling we are a problem isn't conducive to self-love.

    I looked up "Improvement"

    "The action of improving or being improved…there's still room for improvement"

    "A thing that makes something better or is better than something else."

    How can we be better than we are in this moment of time?

    Again, I see the lack of acceptance to who we are today…of wanting to be different.

    How can I improve who I am right now?

    As I sit here.

    I felt, that IF I were to do the resolution deal, I would make a firm decision to be me…always.

    Me as I am right now.

    Me as I feel now and when that feeling changes, be that.

    Me sitting…sewing, reading, cooking, working.

    Always being with the me doing what the Me is doing and not wishing or hoping I was somewhere else different than where I am.

    And accept being me in this size and not sentencing me to unhappiness UNTIL I am a different size, much smaller than I am.  What if today and this year I accept me as me no matter my size and not call myself a problem…and be happy.

    Isn't it Happy New Year….not problem new year!

    We are a culture that disowns and neglects the reality of our lives and keeps our happiness at bay until we reach another size or until we are fit etc.

    It would be my assumption that happy people would be more inclined to move, enjoy life, do daring things, try new things etc.  

    Unhappy crabby people will isolate more and retreat away from fun adventures.

    I say stop waiting for something to change and accept you as you are right now.

    Not only accept, but love her/him.

    Imagine what you would do with the one you Love?

    Where will you take yourself and what will you do?

    It will be the happiest year ever if you can find complete and utter acceptance of who you right now, without one inch of improvements.

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    I went to look for a picture of me, one that I hadn't put on here recently and seen this.  Here I am after being on a film called "Call Me Mental".

    And, I am smiling.

    I'm happy.

    I am in complete and utter acceptance of my whole self…even with what some would call my dark, my "problem"…my abuse and its affects.  I don't see nothing wrong.

    I see no problem.

    None.

    This is me….all of me.

    I am happy to be Me.

    So, for resolutions…perhaps mine will be to find no problems with me. 

     

  • “I believe you”

    In the news and on social media I have witnessed how victims of sexual assault are treated; by how the event is publicly overlooked and unaddressed and/or the victims themselves are evaluated.

    It seems we either are ignored… or lambasted and interrogated about your life and life choices.  If you can show you are a more worthy opponent than your abuser, perhaps then your truth will be accepted.  If your abuser is someone who has created a public reputation that is bigger than yours…it will be near impossible to be heard and have folks 'change' their minds about him.

    His mask of normal will not be nudged by your truth.

    And, there is a really odd collaboration of voices that refuse to be used for victims of abuse…and whose tongues are held quiet as if the abuser holds their mouths closed with an invisible clamp.

    I find this so maddening. I sometimes can hardly stand the insanity of it all.

    People find it so easily to expound upon the virtues of success and team wins…but when it comes to lending their voices to support a victim in a sexual abuse crime, they go mute…and words fail them.

    Isn't it quite remarkable in the ways we use our voices?  And even more remarkable is when we don't.

    Who votes on when we speak and when we keep silent OR who do we give our voices to?

    This thought was quite perplexing and vexing to me.

    How easy it is to cheer for a winning team who truly doesn't need our voice…they won.

    And, how difficult it is to give our voices to those who need it.

    Those whose own voices are not loud enough to make others believe their truths…and would greatly appreciate a choir of support and yet their ears echo with deep silence OR questions and inquiries twisting and riping apart their words, intentions, motives, and life situations.

    We get to pick one of the two.

    1. Silence

    2. Interrogation

    The third choice of lending support by adding their voice and convictions is seldom offered unless and until the abuser confesses…

    It is like the world is waiting for an abuser to admit and announce to the world FIRST and then they will cheer for the victim.

    What would it cost the average person to side with a victim BEFORE a criminal trial?  

    Does the majority of people still believe that we would willingly suffer the silence of indifference and/or interrogation, along with willingly doning the garment of shame, blame, and stigma of abuse for what….attention???

    Do most folks sit with what it is we supposedly have to gain by breaking our silence?

    It's my understanding that "False reporting" happens 1% of the time and the other 99% are telling the truth.

    How are these statistics ignored and not believed?

    Why is it that silence and mistrust or disbelief is our knee-jerk reaction?

    For generation upon generation we know that the abuser has more power and yet we place the powerless victims in a position of having to try and convince us they are powerful???  

    Sexual abuse is NOT about sex….but power.  Their victims are those of less power, and they (abusers) use their image, their station in life over the victims KNOWING the victims will NOT be believed.  They even tell the victims "No one will believe you."

    My head hurts with the puzzle of this …how good people fall victim to supporting the perpetrators by clenching their mouths shut.

    And they have the audacity to explain and excuse their silences.

    Do they really NOT know that they are playing into the play book of the abuser perfectly; speaking the lines that the abuser has sold to the victim.

    "Who will believe you?"

    And, not only the lines from the abuser, but the lines that we ourselves repeat and believe, based UPON how we see other victims being treated.

    How many examples are there of people rushing quickly to the sides of victims?  Is it often that we site the abuser BEFORE a criminal trial?  

    How is it that we as a society will slam a victim into a slot of "LIAR" until it can be proven otherwise?  Why is this okay?  How come the abusers get to wear the label "truth teller" when despicable things are being shared about them?  And yet we transfer these labels…and victims are tagged and categorized fabricator until it can be proven otherwise.

    Mostly the victims are again, of less power, less status, less age, less income, LESS LESS LESS…

    Does this imbalance make us automatically put our words and thoughts and votes and beliefs on the scale with the most?

    If I could carefully articulate how it feels to be standing alone on the scales of 'justice'….on the scales of humanity; alone against the world and your abuser…perhaps then, you would lend your voice.

    What will it take for the majority to start standing with the victims?

    How is it that most don't want to be the minority and speak up.

    Even if the minority are victims of criminal behavior done against them.

    Don't people get it.

    Victims get victimimized again…when they are made to stand alone.

    In my case…alone with my pants down, all my father's shame was laid upon me. I couldn't then understand the folks who turned their backs or sealed their lips with silence…or worse yet crucify me.

    I wonder when humanity will get this?

    When they will dare be the voice in the silence…saying, "I believe you."

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  • Invalid

    It seems to me we are lacking the venacular for those of us who are estranged from families due to abuse.  We lack new words that carry the correct meanings.  We are left with old words that no longer match our experience.

    When we hear a person say "My Ex" we know that the relationship is broken.  And while we may not get the inside story, we all are aware and no longer expect interactions that symbolize love and family…and we are okay with it.  It makes sense that you and your Ex are not together.

    For those of us estranged, we have no words that symbolize it is over.

    We are left with father or pedophile or his first name, but not my Ex-Father or my Ex-mother etc.

    Having these words and having them BE acceptable to society, would change the stigma of estrangement from family.

    Somehow, this breakup isn't recognized or normalized…and yet there are many of us who have separated from our families due to abuse.

    When a wife leaves an abusive husband, it makes sense for her to legally divorce the person who inflicts pain.  To no longer desire to be in their presence.

    As an estranged member of my family, I lack the venacular that rightly depicts my relationship….except to say "estranged".

    I guess we could put the word 'estranged' in front of mother and father…but can we ever be anulled from our parents?

    Is it possible to make 'void or null' our parents?

    Can you "declare them invalid"?

    I looked up "invalid"…."To remove from active service" or "Something no longer current or useful."

    It almost appears or feels that these definition have been hung on me.  That I have carried within me the lack of use; that I am an invalid daughter/sister.

    I believe that most children who have to leave their families don't walk away feeling valid.

    Okay, I had to look up "Valid"

    "(of an argument or point) having a sound basis in logic or fact; reasonable or cogent."

    I don't know the word "cogent".  "(of an argument or case) clear, logical, and convincing.

    Here is what I am feeling now.

    Due to the fact that our 'arguments' are not seen as reasonable or clear or logical with a sound basis, we are declared "Invalid".

    I feel this to my bones.

    My truth was invalid.

    My experiences, invalid.

    So, it is like I was declared annulled by the virtue of NOT being seen as reasonable.

    I have felt divorced by the family since finding out my father is a pedophile.  It wasn't his unreasonable actions that divorced him from the family; but my 'unreasonableness' in keeping him as my dad…that divorced them from me.

    It is to be divorced, but without there being grounds for it.  Or perhaps reasonable grounds.

    This is all very intriguing to me, how the tables were turned and I made to feel invalid; when in fact the family lost it validity.

    In order to keep the family as family was, someone had to be declared unreasonable….or 'removed from active service'.  

    It was I.

    We tend to carry the blame of the estrangement…the one who walked away.

    But we fail to consider why.

    I, and my truth, was invalid as far as my family was/is concerned.

    It never felt like it was a declaration that started with me, that I decided to be invalid.

    It has always felt like my words had nowhere to go.

    That their meanings and validity were not seen or held in high esteem.

    Is there a language that an incest victim can use to be heard?

    What venacular does it take to topple down a family that is build solidly upon dysfunction…where their lack of seeing me as the one with a valid reason to separate from a pedophile…declares them dysfunctional.

    And, just because they see my truths as null and void, does it make them so?

    Perhaps the reason I haven't found the correct words for my actions, is because they are not my actions.

    All I have ever done is stand by my truths, my experiences and how I feel inside.  

    What I have also known from early on in 2004, was that the only choice I have ever had is to be with my truth or declare it invalid.

    It has not been an easy road for all the while my truths have been seen as invalid.

    That I am standing up for something that they see as unreasonable, unlogical etc.

    To be valid only to yourself is tough.

    It is you against the world…or perhaps only those you call family.

    I know this to my bones.  Most victims of sexual abuse within families….either have to declare their truth 'invalid' or become invalid themselves.

    Who wants to knowingly become nul and void to their families?

    This is the prize for speaking up about your abuse.

    And, we as a society wonder why abuse continues on generation upon generation.

    Which one of you would willingly cut off all ties with family in order to walk your truth?  To speak up only to become invalid.

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