Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

• His Daughter to Live hers Well.

  Dates on the calendar can stir up memories – a glimmer of significance to the day. My father would have turned 96 today – he’s been gone now 13 years – but he was gone for me long before that time.

  It is different when you lose someone you were already estranged from – and your memories are tainted by his worst deeds.

  What I don’t have are heart felt memories – or sadness that he’s gone. It is a void where a father should have stood.

  So a date arrives and it is unusual with its significance- a day that used to be – and his life it feels was one that brought pain.

  I don’t follow the news, but there are many who do – and many who feel the angst of all that is going on. I don’t have answers for the multiple things that are wrong – but what I do know is that within my family of origin when all seemed lost – what I focused on was what I could do in my small corner of the world.

  I could gather Love, Peace and Joy.

  I wasn’t changing the devastation my father’s life did.

  I wasn’t changing the lives of those who suffered – I couldn’t.

  But, I could affect change in my small circle. I was able to use my life to live the opposite. I live with intention and keep as much love, peace and joy in my world.

  There are things we have influence over and there are millions that bring stress – and where we can do nothing.

  I believe if each of us sought out more of what we love, what brought joy and held peace, the world would tilt in that direction.

  I knew if I focused on my father’s deeds and the suffering and pain he sowed – I would have shriveled up and died inside.

  When I vowed to not let him define my life – I turned towards a new direction.

  It wasn’t easy at first – it felt awkward to turn away from so much bad – to seek instead the things that warmed my heart. Over time the new habit became my life.

  Even today as so much is upside down and backwards in this country – I still center myself on the choices I can make to bring love and light to my little world.

  It is during the darkest of times, we need more art – in all categories. We can send waves of positive energies out into the world each day by what we spend our days doing.

  Perhaps in honor of a life so wrongly lived – it is a must for his daughter to live hers well.

  

  Art is a sanctuary for my troubled mind- or when my left brain is stressed. There is joy letting the right side play.

  October 20, 2025

  childhood, family, life, love, memories

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• Your Inner Spark

  Last Sunday, while walking with my granddaughter, we met a father with two little girls walking towards us – heading towards the ice cream store at the beach.  One of the girls seen the big cone and asked her dad if they were going for ice cream – to which he quickly replied, "No, remember today we are working on our spirituality."

  The little girls wanting ice cream looked young – near the 5 year old range.

   

  When we got in the car, I asked my 10 year old granddaughter what she thought Spirituality was – she didn't know. 

  I wondered how you taught a young child about spirituality and worked on it.

   

  I told my granddaughter, that often spirituality was about the spirit and did she know what that was or where it was located. She did not.

   

  I told her I felt it wasn't in our mind or bodies – or even heart – but close to it.

  The place inside of us that is our essence that feels love and joy – and is uniquely us.

  Like how each of us have something inside of us that finds joy in different things. 

   

  And she said, "Well I love ice cream and having it would bring me joy." 

   

  As we talked, we talked about different things that make our insides happy – and how it didn't seem that 'working' on our spirituality – would be work.

  And, that skipping what we love or things that brought us joy – seemed the opposite of spiritual work.

   

  I told her I felt little children come into the world with wide open spirits and they naturally gravitate to what their spirits love. And, that it would be more work to steer clear of them.  

   

  I am not suggesting that each time a child wants ice cream they should have it.  But, I was taken aback – that a child would have to work on their spirituality.

   

  I had to look up the definitions of spirituality….

  This seemed to resonate.

  "The word spirituality comes from the Latin “spiritus” which literally means “breath”, signifying Life. The most important thing we have is this gift of Life. It then follows that if we have this amazing gift of Life, then we all have a way that it is being manifested in and through us."

  If spirituality is about breath – signifying life.  Wouldn't spiritual work then be about life, living, and being present with our breath.

  In fact in our conversation, I said that often folks who were spiritual were trying to be present, in this moment of time – I guess with your breath.  And that if you can be with your ice cream, that would be spiritual work.

   

  What I know to be true for me in the past two decades is that I am drawn to things that fill me with love, peace and joy.  That my spiritual work is to be where my feet are – or my breath. 

  To be and breathe in nature and truly be with whomever I am with.

   

  Perhaps when all my old pillars crumbled, what I was left with was my spirit, the self that sat near my heart.   My spirit felt like a young child – innocent and curious and waiting to be seen and heard.

  My spiritual work from that point on was to live as truthfully and as authentic as I could – being honest with my feelings of love and joy – and being brave to step away from things that didn't align with my morals and values.

   

  My spiritual work was learning who I was and then to live from the inside out.

  I recall when my husband and I didn't know who I would be – when my past was so completely changed, that I no longer felt connected to my life – I told him, we could start simple and go and see if she still likes ice cream.

   

  What a beautiful world it would be – if spirituality was to connect to the little child within each of us – that sees delight in the simple things.  Where we go within to find what is true and loving for the child.

  I feel a child comes into the world – with their spirits lit up – and that they don't know how not to follow what brings them joy.  We as adults, we might try and dim that light, but showing them our world, instead of us learning through their eyes.

   

  My life and my views of the world are so different when I see and live through the child's eyes within me.

   

  I have a curious delightful grandson who is only 7 months. He lights up – when he sees me, and his smile is bright.  His spirit is uncovered and pure joy. 

   

  I have two grandchildren who I felt had very strong spirits and wills.  Their parents did a tremendous job in preserving their spirits – while balancing the proper training they required to be human – if that makes sense. 

   

  It is takes a parent who can see the little spirit and what it requires.  They knew when their emotions were bigger than their little bodies and helped them navigate the big world.

   

  Spiritual work – is to honor the spirit within. 

  
  

   "In yoga, "Namaste" is often said at the end of a class as a gesture of respect and acknowledgment of the divine spark within each person. 

   

  The breath of life is to feel your inner spark.

  August 22, 2025

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• Out Loud

  I have been thinking about breaking the silence ever since a group called "Voices Unmuted" was formed. A group whose Mission is to protect innocent children from sexual abuse within the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church (OALC).

   

  There is a podcast which talks about this subject – it was a few years ago, but completely applicable today.
  

   

  The juxtaposition between a religion and those not protecting the children is hard to wrap your head around.

  Like could there actually be grown up people within a religious organization – mute about children being in danger of sexual abuse.

  Not only grownups, but parents – and parents with large families and extended families. Adults who bear responsibility of looking out for children – and they are complacent and quiet about crimes against children.

   

  A question was asked "If you can’t believe there are many predators, ask yourself why you need so badly to believe there aren’t."

   

  This question is quite profound for the followers of these religions – who need the religion to not be tainted by abuse – especially sexual crimes against children – for then what do they believe in – or more how do they get to heaven one day.

   

  It is way more about them NOT wanting it to be true – rather than being curious about what if it is?

   

  What would happen to their lives IF they did believe there were many predators?

  What would it cost them?

   

  When there is abuse in another church, say the Catholic Church – they believe it.

  If there is abuse in a school or with a family outside of the church, they believe it.

   

  However when the unmuted voices speak about their church, their families in their world – it is different.

   

   

  If you were raised in the church and groomed to be silent – you and your past will no longer be the same.

   

  While there is a group unmuted – there is a much larger group of unbelievers – for their very being depends upon it.

   

  It has been over 20 years for me.  I know from experience the cost of believing the unbelievable.  To see your parents in a new light – and your religion. 

   

  These are big pillars in who you are.

  When they turn tarnished – there isn't much left of you.

   

  I know to the depth of my being – they know subconsciously that if the church falls – and the family's legacy is abuse – it will be the end of who they are.

   

  What they don't know, is that it is the beginning of finding your soul – the person you were born to be.  

   

  You lose all that isn't true.

  I didn't lose love – I lost dysfunction.

  I didn't lose a religion – I lost a cult that protects abusers.

  I didn't lose me – I lost the person I was to survive.

   

  When you don't want to believe something is true – usually it's because you need it to be the opposite – even when there are facts and truths in plain view.

   

  What is the saying "she protests too much".  

  "The quote "She protests too much" is a shortened version of the line "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," from Shakespeare's play Hamlet. It means that someone's excessive denials or over-the-top reactions to an accusation actually reveal their guilt or the opposite of what they claim to be true."

   

  It reveals their guilt or the opposite of who they claim to be.

   

  Imagine finding out the opposite of who you claim to be.

  Or what the church claims to be etc.

  I know this feeling.

  I was there.

   

  No matter how much I didn't want it to be true – my body couldn't lie.

   

  It does not matter how many voices are unmuted – each person will be the one to either believe it or protest too much.

   

  I believe they can feel the truth.

  
  

  How ironic – or not – I have been working on this quilt – and it was before listening to the podcast or reading that question.   I love how my art speaks ahead of me. Feel the truth. Notice "the Answer" and "Out Loud" - 

   

   

   

  June 28, 2025

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• Find the truth.

  "I write because it makes me feel like someone is listening – Or am I listening to myself."

   

  I love this quote and I don't know who said it.

   

  What I do know is that I began writing in earnest when I was the most lost.

   

  I was in a body, in a life – in relationships, I was a mother and a wife – and I didn't know who I was.

   

  This was quite scary and exhilarating at the same time.

   

  When I was writing, I was engaging with what I called my mental lady – my mind – and trying to find a Me that was not tainted with my childhood religion or the affects of abuse – or even just programming that comes with living in this world.

   

  Could I find myself, when I didn't know who I was or where I had gone missing?

   

  I am amazed I was any semblance of an adult –

  I had to look up "semblance" to see if that was the correct word to use.

  "the outward appearance or apparent form of something, especially when the reality is different. "she tried to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order"

   

  It is the perfect word. Especially when I was living different from the reality of my truths.

   

  I am not certain I can accurately describe the vast chasm of unknown – and me and the mental lady – trying to make sense of the senseless.

   

  This mental lady was who I had been for 46 years and the writer was who I was becoming  began dialoguing and arguing over who was the real me.        I felt like a fledging little bird compared to the wily mental lady.

  It seemed not a fair fight, for the new me was so small , unsure and bewildered – the mental lady had strength of not her own conviction – and was backed by family and church.

   

  Our playground or battlefield was on the blank sheet of paper.  

  Without pencil and paper, I fear the mental lady would have won.

   

  The strength of her brainwashing, the fear laced shame of abuse – was a powerful duo to contend with.

   

  Especially when inside of me was a newly seen abused little girl.

   

  A part of me was writing to empower that little girl and for her to become free.

   

  Often when a choices was tough to make, I would visualize how it would be to the wounded girl inside of me.  Then, the choice was easy.

   

  Many more hard choices were made – and the little girl inside of me grew strong as I listened to what she wanted/needed and gave her love, peace and joy.

   

  I look back fondly at those early years of being a fledging – doing battle with a brainwashed mind – and feel pride.

   

  Try talking sense to a person who's been under the spell of brainwashing – or better yet try changing them or debunking their beliefs – THAT is what she was up against.

   

  Writing helped free me from my brainwashed mind.

   

  It perhaps was one of the most powerful tools I used to get me to walk hand and hand with reality.

   

  I am no longer fledging – but very secure in who I am.

   

  I still use writing – which is now on this blog – anytime my mind can't leave an idea alone. When my mind is restless and it keeps pulling me from the reality of now – I am drawn to the blank page.

   

  What I recall too is how the wily mental lady was always so righteously right. And, I was often afraid to begin writing for I didn't know what I would have to do.  What choice I would be forced to make.

   

  Yet the writing always gave me a choice that was true for me.

   

  When it was true for me – I always felt at peace with the choice – even when that choice brought serious consequences.

   

  What the fledging bird within me wanted most of all, was to be true to my feelings and emotions.  I wanted to be in sync with my body, mind and spirt. 

   

  Writing was the vehicle – and my mental lady and I were on a journey to see which one of us would survive the ruthlessness of the pencil.

   

  

   

  Me, Myself and I – on a journey to find the truth.

   

   

   

  June 23, 2025

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• A Letter to You.

  There is a group of individuals who are concerned about the lack of reporting sexual assaults in the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church – and I can only hope there is a similar group in the First Apostolic Lutheran Church.  

  Mostly they are hoping to appeal to the elders of the church, the mission boards and preachers.  

  They want to inform them how to report sexual assault crimes.

   

  What I believe they fail to consider is that these are grown up people who know and who have chosen to remain quiet – to preserve the sanctity of their church.

  What appears to matter most is that if you don't speak of the evil that is present, the evil disappears.  While they are silent and unmoving, evil flourishes and has actually multiplied exponentially.  

  The two churches that I have mentioned truly look to the leadership on all things.  They are the ones who make the rules and set the tone of how you live, what you do with your body etc.

  Which is why so many are trying to get the attention of the church leaders to make some changes. They move when the elders move…their free thinking minds have been brainwashed.

   

  To me each parent who knowingly brings their children to places where known pedophiles are, IS a bigger problem.

  There is a false sense of security – when church members gather – believing the evil is in those who are outside of the church. Or stranger danger – for crimes against children. 

  More parents know and do nothing – than parents who are totally unaware.

   

  What I believed, when my father was arrested, that we were the only family. Only to learn over the next weeks, months and years, it was more common than not.  

   

  I also believe sexual abuse is so intertwined within families, it will be near impossible to eradicate.  

   

  I had abuse on both sides of my parents. 

  The church neighbors in our neighborhoods, had it in their homes.

  In fact a brother flippantly said, "there is abuse everywhere." which is sorta true in these churches. But that doesn't mean that it is right or okay or that we need not work on that changing.

   

  I have spoken with women of the church – who are unmovable when it comes to leaving the church, their faith is too precious. More than a child in harm's way.   Their minds won't let them leave and so they have to focus more on faith and less on the child's needs.

   

  So, as they write letters to appeal to the elders – the flock is compliant to the abuse in their circles. What would be the cost to the elders to admit they lost the sanctity of their religion.

  For how is their religion Holy – when abusers are protected there.

   

  I am not certain what the answer is – but the common sense has escaped – or been hijacked by the cult-like mindset.  When you have to be told to leave when children are at risk for sexual abuse – you are lacking responsibility.

   

  I often wished it was the problem of others – to change – but in the end it was up to me.

  I had to be the one to say no more, THIS ends with me.

  I will do what my mother couldn't do.

  I will end relationships, I will set boundaries, I will say no, I will chart the course on a whole new pathway – where there is zero tolerance.

   

  

  Instead of addressing the preachers, start a letter to you.

  (What changes do you need to make to assure children are safe within your circles.)

   

   

   

   

  June 21, 2025

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• What is Indifference.

  Victims are speaking out in the Old Apostolic Lutheran Church – and Abusers are being arrested. This – I hope starts to trickle into the First Apostolic Lutheran Church.

   

  Adult children of abuse – unmuting their voices.

  I cheer you on!

   

  I know this will come with consequences – and also with empowerment, freedom and self-love and respect.  

  I believe they are breaking cycles and making others feel less alone.  

  I am hopeful this is a trend that will keep on spreading into churches with cult-like tendencies.  

   

  What has always confounded me is the way these churches have allowed abuse to flourish.  How it appeared that they are incapable of seeing evil – or understanding the difference between good and bad.  

  How the lines seemed to be blurred by the forgiveness of sins – where wrongs/evil is forgiven and the person then becomes innocent of their crimes.  Washed whiter than snow – and in the eyes of the church – forgiven.  The crime/sin is said to be lost in the sea of grace.

   

  Where does this leave the victims?

  No longer victimized?

  No, added to the trauma of abuse, it is now a sin in the church's eyes to bring up this 'forgiven sin' – they are made to feel a bad christian for naming another's sin.  How convenient for the abusers – when victims are silenced this way.

   

  I had to look up the common conception or spectrum of what we call good and evil.

   

  "In ethics and philosophy, "good" and "evil" are typically defined as opposing moral concepts, with "good" representing what is considered morally right and positive, and "evil" representing what is morally wrong and negative.These concepts are often understood as a linear scale, with actions, behaviors, or intentions falling somewhere along this spectrum."

   

  What is the moral scale in these churches when they forgive the abuser and do not report their crimes?  Can they even be on the scale of good morals?

  It is so confusing when the forgiveness of sins, wipes away evil – than does evil  even exist in their worlds?

  If you don't a have a ruler or measurement of what is good and what is bad – right or wrong – how do you know where you stand and what to set boundaries against?

   

  The only way that the churches allow this evil to exist within so many families, is that they can't see the evil once it has been forgiven. 

   

  This mind game they play with real crimes leaves the victims without an ally. 

   

  There are many within these churches who feel that they are in an organization with high morals and values.  Yet, if you overlook crimes – especially against children – who are you?

   

  What seems to be child's play – has had decades and generations of folks being unresponsive to children who have been abused – while tending to the forgiveness of sins the church requires.

   

  I know, it isn't intentional – but a by product of their religion.

   

  They see the world so skewed – when evil only exists – until it's forgiven. It is a flash in a pan.

   

  What I know, from experience with my family – their world didn't really hold evil – or maybe only me.  

  They were all able to still have a father.

  They were able to forgive and move on.

  Their scale of good and evil seems more of good and good.

  I am seen as evil – for my mind is no longer capable of turning evil back into good with words and pretend thoughts.

   

  There is a meaning of forgiveness that I have adopted by Martha Beck  "I once read that forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a different past…but forgiving is not the same as obliterating memory."

  What these churches are asking when they say "Forgive and Forget" is to obliterate the memory of the abuse and that the abuser is evil.  

  Imagine asking this of young children. 

  Once I adopted her definition my world was set in reality – where good and evil did exist and I wasn't the evil person for speaking up. I wasn't evil for having boundaries or creating my own moral code.

  I also don't hold this against my family – for they were born into this brainwashing system – a religion where evil is washed away – if you are in their circle.  

  Maybe the real devil is the one who challenges their conditioned mind. 

   

  What brings me great hope is that more adult children of abuse within these churches start speaking out.  Unmuting their voices and start seeing evil.  

  And, my heart goes out to those who have to see evil in their own families – and to see the moral codes crumble in the religion they were raised in. And to find a new definition of forgiveness – giving up all hope of having a different past.

  In that past, you will find abuse and your abuser – and those who knew and did nothing.

  When you walk truthfully with your past, you can also walk truthfully into your future.

  My mind is at ease with what is.

  When you are walking hand and hand with reality – there is good and evil. And you discern what is love and what is indifference.

   

  

   

   

   

   

  June 17, 2025

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• Remained true.

  In the basement on the bottom shelf were piles of photo albums – dating back to the 1970's  - 55 years ago – parts of my life caught in a photo.

   

  In the mix are friends, family and now estranged family members.

   

  I have steered clear of this pile for a few decades – knowing the ghosts that lingered there.

   

  While doing some major decluttering in our home – I knew it was time to go through the albums and to separate what I love and what will be tossed.  

   

  Many emotions flowed through me – as I sat by the hour leafing through the pages of my past.

   

  My heart melted as I was brought back to the early years of dating my husband and the early years of our marriage.  It is amazing how photos are like time machines – and some in the best way. I love us. Our solo trips and how we camped with the El Camino and Tent. Moments of love.

   

  Many, many photos of my children – during the seasons of their childhoods.  I love them – and how quickly the years have passed. Recalling their natures and the different personalities and fun times I captured.

   

  Photos of my friends during high school  - and old church friends – some I haven't seen or spoken to in what seems like a lifetime.

   

  And the ones I dreaded to sort through were photos of my family of origin.  Photos that now seemed fake upon the backdrop of learning new truths.

   

  It is hard to articulate how familiar pictures take on a stranger tone. 

  And even worse the emotions that are now attached to these awkward moments.

  The photos do not accurately portray the contents of our family.

  But abuse is not photographed – instead it is the act of  'normal' or putting on a good front.

  Perhaps we even tried harder to make sure our cover – was covered.

   

  You don't see the real story in pictures – instead you see the cover up – or denial.  The normal going on – in the abnormal home.

  I don't even know how to classify my feelings of these.  The people I thought I knew – I didn't know – so who am I looking at?  The moments we capture as a family – in my mind – didn't have the undertow of abuse.  The memories of those day abuse didn't live there – but it did. 

  It is like seeing your denial in living color.

   

  The true nature of our family isn't in the pictures.

  It feels like we were all playing on the stage of life – in a play about a regular large family – instead of who we really were.

  I wonder how many families are play acting over truths and secrets.

  Surely we can't be the only one.

   

  I recall seeing our childhood pictures and the poverty and inability to have nicer things and feeling ashamed.  Even the shame at being poor in a large family – where more kids were added to an already poor home. IF only that was the only seed of shame.

   

  The deeper and more impactful shame is that of sexual abuse within the family – and even more so – the denial and the way our family marched on – portraying normal. Abused and trying to be normal.

   

  Those pictures are awkward at best now. 

  Yet they depict my childhood and most of my life.

  They do not feel like treasures I want to hold on to.

  My heart feels sad or alone or empty – with those pictures.

  My memories and the truth were miles apart.

  The space where denial lived.

   

  I can't deny my family of origin.

  I can choose what pictures and memories I take forward as heart moments.

   

  These were fun ones to happen on.

  

  Clowns I made in my early 20's.  I forgot all about them.  I love them – and maybe have to make a few!

   

  I loved seeing my old projects – all the wonders my hands have made.

   

  The parts of me that holds no shame.

  A true part of me was creating even way back then.

  
  

  And today's creations.  

  While my past holds much denial – my art has remained true.

   

   

  April 29, 2025

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• Are you sure you are right?

   

  Do you think that most people believe that the way they were raised, the religion they were assimilated into and the beliefs they were taught, are Right.  

  How do we even know how we know we are right?

   

  I lived with right knowing for many years.

  It never occurred to me to explore the other side.

  The beliefs of my childhood – were part of being Me.

  I never ever questioned the ones who gave me the beliefs or the religion and its rules.

  They just were.

   

  The things implanted as a child and my own childhood interpretation became a file in my mind. It's pathway unquestioned – I just believed it was right.

  It is very telling that often religions are implanted into children;  an empty malleable mind.

   

  What is implanted in childhood is often hard to unwind – for it absconds with body and mind before the child gets a chance to define itself.

   

  These ideas are actually replacing the self.  A child in strict religions are made to meld into the ways of the church – but without a fully formed self – the child becomes the religion. 

   

  I don't recall having freewill – I moved as the religion would have moved. 

   

  I lived on rote.

   

  I had to look up the definition – "mechanical or unthinking routine or repetition. a joyless sense of order, rote, and commercial hustle."

   

  I had to chuckle at the joyless sense of order….in how aptly it described my early years… sadly.

   

  The rightness of the religion in my mind was partnered with sexual abuse.

  But, the sexual abuse wasn't recorded in the files.

  My body held these truths.

   

  When the sexual abuse wasn't recorded – my mind didn't see the abuse or act in accordance with it. It never existed – yet it did happen.

   

  As a child downloading the religion and at the same time experiencing childhood sexual assault by my father – my mind files were *&%$ – to put it gently.  So not right -not even close.

   

  I truly feel for my younger self living life with a messed up filing system and no real separate self.

  She believed she was right and there was no one there to challenge her thoughts or beliefs.

  In the religion, we were taught the sinful nature of our bodies.  I was never taught to honor my feelings, emotions and instincts.  

  I separated from my body in sexual abuse as well.

  I truly lived disconnected from my body and all its wisdom.

   

  I am not certain I can articulate this.

   

  Just because you believe something to be right, it doesn't mean it is.

  "A lie doesn't become truth, wrong doesn't become right, and evil doesn't become good, just because it's accepted by a majority."

   

  Knowing the cost of religion and sexual abuse upon my life and how it impacted the files in my mind, I can understand how others live this way as well.  It would be nice if we were all free thinkers and open to curiosity and wonder – but too many of us are locked behind a corrupt mind.

  I wondered if corrupt was accurate – here is one definition. "made unreliable by errors or alterations."  This is very accurate. 

  I also understand how scary it would be to know your mind is unreliable when the mind is you.  You don't want to know you are unreliable.

   

  I truly was lost when the files in my mind were discovered to be lies.  I didn't have a self standing in the wings. I was 46 years old married with 4 kids and I didn't have a clue who I was – outside of the mind's files.

   

  Yet it was the first time I was free to think and ponder and wonder and learn. 

  It was an exhilarating process to go through the files I called right – to discover the lies and see the world completely different. 

   

  I am willing to wager that there are folks on both ends of the spectrum with wrong right files.  And, they would be aghast at what they are proclaiming to be right.

   

  Mostly what I know – is that I would not have been convinced otherwise. 

  Here is a quote I love – "A man convinced against his will – is of the same opinion still " which came from the quote below.

   

  “He that complies against his will, Is of his own opinion still” from Hudibras by Samuel Butler 

  What is interesting – is that I misquoted this for years – I thought it was a MIND convinced against its will is of the same opinion still.  

   

  Any one of them works.  

   

  Knowing this and experiencing life with a closed not right mind – I don't believe we will change minds from the outside in.

  I also know the strength of some minds and the steel grip it has on them.  My voice and my convincing will fall on deaf ears. 

  "forgive them, they know not what they do" is one sentiment I can agree upon.

   

  I wrote all that to say, are you sure you are right?

  

  Another quote I love is by Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor – "that the left brain takes the least amount of information and weaves the most plausible story."

  Here is her talk – and she has a book "My Stroke of Insight".  She explains the parts of our brain and its differences. 

   

   

  February 7, 2025

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• Imperfect Grandma

  "Imperfect Grandma" – is the only book I can write.

  I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be.  

   

  I wanted to leave my grandchildren an idea of who I am, perhaps impart some wisdom – and since I have nothing to pass on from the generation before me – words and who I am are what I can give.

   

  In the family ways, I am imperfect – I left my family.

  And its beliefs.

   

  Who I am and where I come from are not topics of most family holidays.

  My childhood family traditions – feel unworthy – or perhaps it feels like cheating to carry forth pieces of what I left behind. And they are flavored by the dysfunction and estrangement.

   

  As a grandma – I am seen differently – vastly different depending upon who you ask.

  I am piece of my family that broke free – and there are many still being family without me.

  My family tree is mainly – a limb – the branch who is estranged.

   

  I am not the perfect grandma who is attached to a long string of women – well I am – but not ones I can celebrate.  The perfect strings hold love, trust, peace, hope, joy, caring, wisdom…  The strands and strings of my tapestry show the legacy of abuse.

   

  In order to write about me, those stands are tangled into me – I am unable to separate them – they are a part – an integral part of me.

   

  My history is part of me – and without that truth – you won't understand why I stepped away from family.  And, you won't know how I became the grandma I am today.

   

  I have been pondering a book to write so my grandchildren have my story spoken from me.  I want them to know me – for there is much of my family I no longer know.  

   

  More than me, I want them to know the history they come from on my side.

  It is important to me that there isn't silence.

  I want to find a way to share my story, my art and what I stand for – in a way that isn't too dark; but one I hope will inspire them to be themselves, to own their feelings, to speak their truth, to dare to stand alone, and to be okay being imperfect.

   

  I want them to know, you can be at your darkest and still find a way back to joy.  To be broken and feel love.  To dance with the spectrum of opposites.

   

  What is funny, is that I thought I could write the perfect grandma book – only to realize that once again, my team of grandmas are imperfect.

   

  I can't write a perfect grandma book, for I am not perfect.

  But it seems to me there will lots I can say about Imperfect Grandma.

   

  I feel inspired by "Imperfect Grandma".

  I feel relief being in alignment with imperfections.

  I had to go look up imperfect – to make sure it will suit this grandma.

  "not perfect; faulty or incomplete."

  And I feel it does.  I was a faulty daughter, sister and even Aunt.

  I do feel incomplete or whole – as in part of something. I am missing my family of origin.

   

  While I am not broken – I am not whole.

  Imperfect Grandma – is willing to go there and speak what isn't spoken.

   

  The writings of Imperfect Grandma – feel right for me.

  Perhaps I have the image

  
  

   

  This is me – Proudly Failing at who they wanted me to be.  

  Imperfect Grandma

   

   

  February 3, 2025

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• Being Me

  December 4th is a date that I most likely will always remember – the day that reality slammed into me and changed my world forever.

  The day when a child spoke up that my father had sexually abused her.

  I believed her.  

   

  That moment in time – flipped my world right side up – and all that I knew – was no more.

   

  Who I was that day – and who I am today – are light-years apart.

   

  It was a day that broke my denial and made me aware of how upside down and backwards I was – a functioning dysfunctional.

   

  So, the twenty year anniversary is more about me and my evolution than it is about anything else.

  I lost a lot. There were things of my old life that no longer worked in my new awareness.

  Things I had shoved down – came up.  

  People I had no boundaries with – now have boundaries.

  Unexpressed emotions from the past rushed in to be expressed.  I used my voice even if my legs were shaking. I grew up each time I spoke a truth others didn't want to hear.

   

  Who I was and how I lived – made sense – coming from whence I came.

  The piece of the puzzle – being abused by my father- was key to know – it explained a lot about me.  I am grateful for the piece – I was missing. It completed me.  My life made more sense with abuse in my past.  I understood me and my dysfunctional ways

   

  The remnants of that old life are few and far between.

  I am the person now – I needed when I was a child.

  I like who I am and what I stand for.

  I am without a family(of origin) and faith – and yet my life is full.

   

  While I lost a lot – I gained more.

  My whole life opened up that day and all the ugly was present – but so was the potential of so much good. 

   

  I would not be eager to go and do it again; but I would to get to where I am today.

   

  There is a lot of grief that lives in my heart – and for the most part it is soft and in the background.  I am okay with it riding with me.  It is a reality of my life.  

  My heart though has expanded and grown – both with the deep sorrow and knowing the truth – and loving my wounded self and encouraging her to grow. 

   

  What these past 20 years have taught me is that we are all on our own path and it isn't my responsibility to eradicate all the abuse – but to live a life that reflects my own morals and values.  Each of us are on the side of history that mirrors our character.

   

  Twenty years later I know peace, love and joy.

  Twenty years later I understand more deeply the price you pay to live your own truth.

  Twenty years later I am a peace with who I am.

  Twenty years later I am still a lover of realty and accept what is.

  Twenty years later I am still learning and growing and becoming.

  Twenty years later is a great start in being Me.

   

  
  

   

   

  December 4, 2024

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