I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Perfectly You!

    February is the month of love.  And, we typically think of love as being romantic and with another person.

    This month to me is about self love; for without it you truly cannot love.

    We are with ourselves 24/7 and there is no where we can go, that we are not there.

    So, it is best to come to peace with ourselves, OR change the things that bring us pain.

    It is easy to love the things that are easy to love; like great hair or pretty eyes.

    What is much harder are the things we think are 'wrong' with us.

    I have found, that the things that were the hardest to love, were the exact things that were unique to me, or the ones who shaped me to be strong, brave and to live authentically.

    Perhaps we need to re-define and look closer at the things we believe we don't like.

    "Self-Love begins with loving your flaws" is what I put on a mug.  However, what we define as our imperfections, are perfect when we go back to the source.

    Some may say that my sexual abuse is a flaw.

    Or, that my size is a flaw.

    Or, that my nose is too big and a flaw.

    My belly a belly flop and too big.

    You get the idea.

    However, I see myself as being me in this moment in time.

    My body is the least interesting thing about me.

    And, more what happened to me.

     

    What is more interesting is the person who lives as Me.

    Who is she?

     

    You can focus on what you believe are flaws OR you can go deeper and find out who you truly are.

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    Love the 'flaws' and you will find out the imperfections are what make you perfectly you!

     

  • Badass Acceptor

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    "Miss January" 

    I want to try and make a Pin-up for each month of this year and perhaps write some prose about women, life and how we survive the unsurvivable and be the badass of our own lives.

     

    January is the first month of the year, the new year.  Where often hope is planted.

    It is also the darkest, and usually the coldest month of the year.  

    A time for self-reflection and solitude.

     

    When I look back at the darkest time of my life, I also see it as the place where I had the most insights. Which seem odd, that I could see more in the darker times.

    What I have learned by hanging out with badass women who have suffered great losses, is that we are stronger than we want to be.  Our hearts grow deeper with loss and pain. And, we become free to be ourselves.  We lose the ability to pretend to pretend to pretend.   

    Wisdom comes with suffering.

     

    I have heard about radical acceptance.  Where we are to accept what is, no matter what the IS is.

    It is easy to accept the sunshine, cozy fires and birds.

    But, it takes herculean efforts to accept the unacceptable.

    We are made stronger by accepting that which we don't want to accept.

     

    It was in accepting the darkest of the darks in my life, that I was able to truly accept all its beauty.   The dark cold harsh realities can't be pushed aside, or covered with positive cute speak. They have to be brought in and held – accepted.

    Oddly, you don't have to like something to accept it.

     

    Acceptance, joy, and enthusiasm are the three keys to happiness according to Eckhart Tolle. Consciousness has to flow through these three paths. Everything that doesn’t come from them comes from our ego and may become destructive.

     

    If you can't be joy or enthusiasm, you can accept.

    Be with what is.

     

    What I never truly understood, was our ability or reflex for non-acceptance.

    How we will try harder to deny, than to accept.

    We un-naturally work against reality.

    In hopes that our wishes will somehow overthrow reality.

    We want so bad, what isn't to be.

     

    I think, in my case, it was too hard to deny, so I had to bring it in.

    I had to find peace with accepting everything I didn't want to accept.

    And, there truly is peace and even happiness in accepting what is. 

    Perhaps peace is the absence of war with what is.

    I simply didn't have the strength to fight the harsh reality of what was.

     

    I didn't have to do anything, but ride the wave of reality.  Accepting each new reveal of truth.

    I was actually then given choices of how I wanted to dance with what is.

    You simply can't respond IF you don't accept it first.

     

    In the radical acceptance, you can't solve or work with anything, UNTIL you accept it.

     

    Miss January, the first month, is about accepting.

    Become a badass acceptor!

     

     

     

     

  • 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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  • 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.

     

     

     

  • What Happened Next

    "In trauma recovery, it's important to consider what happened. It's equally, if not more important to consider, what happened next, which is often where the deepest wounds lie." Find Your Sunshine Therapy

     

    I read this and felt that it immediately opened up space to look around more deeply.

     

    What often happens, at least in my experience, is that the trauma stands alone.

    Segregated from the rest.

     

    An island of trauma in an otherwise normal life.

     

    However, it is more often just one huge red flag in a sea of red flags.

     

    If you don't look upon what happened next, you will not be able to see clearly.

    It isn't so much that I was abused, but what happened next, OR more, what didn't happen next.

     

    In looking at what happened next, you will find answers you may not want to know.

    People acting in ways that were not about the safety of the children, and standing against abuse.

     

    Looking into what happened after, you can see more clearly the agendas of people and organizations.

    If nothing happened next.  

    If life continued on as if nothing happened, that is a sign.

     

    In my experience, the worst wasn't the abuse that happened, it was what didn't happen next.

     

    There wasn't a safe place to be.

     

    When family does nothing, when the minister of the church does nothing, when neighbors do nothing, it adds layers and layers, to the wound.

     

    So many want to isolate the wound as being the sole responsibility of the abuser.  However, he is either supported or reported.

     

    I love this train of thought, "What happened Next".  Most will not go down this road, because most truly do not want to know.  There is a cost to being curious, you will see folks being apathetic to abuse.

     

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    Art made for me by my daughter. 

     

    I feel that in order to truly heal from trauma, you have to continue to ask, "What happened next?"  Keep going until you get the full scope and breadth of what happened.

     

  • Social Niceties

    "The winter solstice celebrates the longest hours of darkness or the rebirth of the sun and is believed to hold a powerful energy for regeneration, renewal and self-reflection."  According to Forever Conscious

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    It is the time of year for powerful energy of self-reflection and renew and regeneration.

    I looked up "Renewal" and found – "the replacing or repair of something that is worn out, run-down, or broken."

    And, I am wondering what in my life is worn out, run down or even broken?  What needs to be replaced with something that works?

    So, I then looked up "Regeneration" – "is the process of renewal, restoration, and growth that makes genomes, cells, organisms, and ecosystems resilient to natural fluctuations or events that cause disturbance or damage. Every species is capable of regeneration, from bacteria to humans."

    Regeneration happens; naturally.

    To be fair, I looked up "Self- Reflection" – "Meditation or serious thought about one's character, actions and motives."

    Which leaves us to ponder what needs renewal  - which parts of our character, actions and motives reflect our truths, and then which ones can we let go of.

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    December is always a month where it seems my family of origin come in.  Typically in a friendly fashion, breaking the silence – perhaps a birthday wish, or christmas card etc.
     
    This always seems odd to me.
     
    For our relationship is estranged, severed, and pretty non-existent.  And in pops a normal seeming exchange.
     
    I was feeling anxious about it.  And, I pondered the root cause or why this felt so threatening, while it appears so benign.
     
    What I learned about conflict in my childhood home, was that something would happen, someone's feelings were hurt, and instead of talking about it, silence would ensue.  The silence often stretched longer, if the hurt was deeper, until enough space passed, and then life returned to 'normal'.
     
    A wound was left in the middle of the relationship. A hurt that was never acknowledged on either side. Silence, and not talking took the place of resolving issues. 
     
    My mother left me many times, abruptly on a weekend, to 'run away' – leaving me in charge of the house and however many kids were still home.  And, on Monday Morning, she would not tell me where she went or why, but appeared all chipper "Rise and Shine everybody" would echo up the stairway.  
     
    Her respite from her life was successful, at the cost of my weekend plans.
     
    The pattern of no discussion and hurtful feelings going unnoticed etc, and then time passing and all is back to normal, without any type of sorting things out, leaves me cautious of family that now pops in.
     
    I no longer will leave the wound undiscussed. 
     
    The estrangement wasn't easily navigated.
     
    So, as this Solstice of self-reflection arises, I am sitting with some family entering into my life and what this means.
     
    It feels disingenuous to me to let our wound and estrangement not be spoken about. To just begin again, from here. 
     
    The potholes of my childhood wounds that went undiscussed, left me handicapped and stunted.  I didn't just move on complete; but was filled with emotional scars and psychological deficits.  
     
    I am sitting with my inability to let bygones be bygones without discussing and reconnecting, as part of who I am now.  
     
    I am trying to discern within me, what is just letting 'social niceties' happen, and when it feels like the patterns of old?
     
    It appears that their casual interjections into my world are just that, casual.  
     
    Yet it feels more passive aggressive to me in the face of the years of silence.
     
    Mostly I have to sit with what do I do with casual social niceties.
     
    What is the cost or toll, to my world, and who I am?
     
     
    I get confused, when an estranged relationship has social niceties.
     
    Which is my whole childhood. Things not appearing as they were.
     
    Where a dad is an abuser.
     
    It feels like the messy relationships are appearing nice.
     
    I can't imagine living in a world like this as a child. Where things appear one way, but are really another way.  The shifting landscape of dysfunction, not knowing what is truth and what is fiction.
     
    Happy 2019 Solstice.  
     
    My self-reflection includes my estrangement.  My renewal looks at where I am today and how, or if I would, change my actions/choices.  And, what is my response with family's social niceties.
     
     
     
     
     
     

     

     

  • Another Trip Around the Sun

    So, I turn 61 today.  That is hard to imagine. Sixty-one years seems like a very long time. And yet there are times where it feels like I am just getting started, and others where I feel my age.

    Time is an odd thing anyway.

    You can't see it.

    And there are times when an hour seems to take forever, and others where it flies.

     

    We measure life by time, instead of by wisdom, learning, experiences, love, joy and even sorrow.

    Who I am today, is a compilation of experiences way more than time.

    I have lived a full life of emotions. I have felt deeply and loved fully and also felt the deep loss of family.  Or perhaps more the loss of relating.

     

    My mother's latest card, shows me that she sees me as unforgiving, and that there is a loving family waiting for me, when I do.

    I am a child. An unforgiving one. One that doesn't see the caring family.  One who only sees the abuse.  I am a 61 year old child.  In her eyes.

     

    I see, or more, feel my forgiveness.  Forgiveness is knowing that the past could be no different.  I own it. I have moved beyond hoping that life could have been different.  I have played with the cards I have been given. I have created a life beyond abuse.

     

    In my 61 years, I have related to many whose relationships I cherish. I have learned from so many women who have lived life differently than mine. Who have shown me badass ways, and loving alternatives. 

    I have learned to relate to the little girl inside of me.  The one who didn't have to forgive and forget her abuse.  The girl needed me to be empowered, to have a voice and a choice.  To stand on shaky legs and say what I needed to say. She and I relate well with each other. We face the world with all we know. We are a team of one.

     

    Sixty-one years has taught me about myself, and how every interaction I have, I bring me.

    I bring the child with trauma, the badass who stood up, the mom, the grandma, the wife, the girlfriend, the adventure girl, like stacking dolls, we are all one.

     

    My experiences in relating to myself and even the lack of relating and denial, are all part of who I am.  I understand deeply what happens when I deny myself to get along or people please.  I am not spared.  I eventually have to deal with the part of me I left behind. There are consequences to being someone you are not.  You get a life that isn't true for you.

     

    Life, I believe requires the real you to show up.

    Life wants to relate to you, not the pretend you.

     

    Age doesn't really matter to me.  Yes, there are many years that have passed since the day I was born.  I have lived, it feels like, many lives.  I was able to experience life on so many different levels.  

    Being old (er) feels like the most free of lives.

    It fits me the best.

    I know me and am comfortable being me.

    I know what it took to get here.

    I am grateful for my journey today.

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    There may be many who would like me to do things differently, to be a different me.  

    I hear you.

    And disagree.

    I love being a disagreeing woman.  

    I love that I can disappoint you, and still have a good day – a good life.

    This lesson was the hardest for me to learn.

    Here's to another trip around the sun!  

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Thanks for Being Mine.

    There are many to thank for their kindness to me, as I worked to get myself back up after falling down, with what I call a mental breakdown out of denial.  I am 15 years into this process.

     

    My mind was broken, my self-identity blown, and she was supposed to live and recreate a self, while being an utter mess.  

    I think my saving grace, was that I allowed my mental-ness to show.  I accepted reluctantly, my new past.  I didn't coverup my wounds, but spoke of them.

    I wrote and spoke about the mess I found myself in.  

    My messy Me.

     

    And, surprisingly there were a few women who were okay with that. Friends who accepted me as I changed.  My heart is forever thankful for each of you. You provided me a safe place to unravel and knit myself together.

     

    And, the more I talked about it, the more new friends I made.

    And, they too seemed okay with this mental messy me.

    They didn't want for me, anything I didn't want for me.

    They didn't try to save my faith, or family or even my perfect self.

     

    They allowed me to be me, unashamed.

     

    Badass women who embraced and even cheered for this mess trying to become.

     

    While I was a broken mess, I still created art and it wasn't long and a woman appeared; My Lady.

    Her wisdom unfolded ahead of my understanding.  She depicted my consciousness ahead of my awareness of who I was becoming.

    I loved her, before I loved me.  Or, more – I loved me through her.  Like circling back to myself; while being Me.

     

    With My Lady Art, I have met and become friends with others, who cheered for my art, and me.

    The ones who have stood by me and are drawn to my art, typically are rebels at heart.  They are the ones who are unique and stick out in the round places.  The misfits and dreamers.  Thank you for showing me I am not alone.  I fit in with you.

     

    Another huge part of my journey are the Ladies of WIND – Women in New Directions.

    Women who have been creative and adventurous with me. Who have been with me while I grow and play in ways I would not have done alone.

    Women who have shared their journeys with me.  Women I have learned from and have become friends with.  Women who are strong in places I was weak.

    WIND is 7 years old, so they arrived half way through and have totally helped in rounding out my rough areas.  They have gotten me out camping, hiking, biking, kayaking, snowshoeing, skiing to name a few.  

    They have become a circle of soul sisters who do badass things.  

    You have allowed my character building to become more open and defined.  

    All the new movement out in nature has brought me such peace and wonder.

    My world has grown into places I couldn't even imagine.

    Thank you to each of you for being yourselves and allowing me to be me! Thanks for being my friend!

     

    So, this is to say, I did not walk alone.

    I have had circles and circles of folks who gave me room to grow.

     

    And, in my home, I am grateful my family allowed me to change.  They accept this me, broken and all, to be who I need to be.  The open safe space they provided, allowed me to reciprocate it back to them.

     

    I learned how to be myself, by my husband's refusal to be no one, but himself.

    I learned unconditional love IS allowing the other to be themselves, without imposing my conditions. 

    I learned family speaks of the hard things and is comfortable with uncomfortable.

    Family is where you can be authentic, real and a mess.

    Family is comprised of unique individuals living life in ways that suit their personalities. 

    Family is loving who you are.

     

    To all who have shared this space with me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

    I love that you were okay walking with this upside down messy broken healing creative lady.

    I am not at the end, at least I don't believe I am, and there is much living to do.

    It has been a wild and crazy terrifying brilliant journey, and you being part of it has made it that much less lonely.  We are always less alone with a friend.

    Thanks for being mine!

     

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    I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be!

     

  • Reality that isn’t Talked About

    Secrets– "something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others."

    "something that is not properly understood; a mystery."

     

    I believe I have always thought, that secrets were known. That we had to know a secret to be quiet about it. It was an agreement to keep something unknown and hidden; but that we all knew what it was.

    Is it possible to be party to keeping a secret just by the fact we don't probe and question?

    Nor did I know, the things that were mystifying were also secrets.

     

    It wasn't until my granddaughter asked me about my mother, did I realize profoundly, how secrets are propagated.

    The spreading happens, when silence or half truths or complete lies are told, creating a reality that doesn't really exist.

    Most in my family of origin would say, that there are no secrets, that we all now know that our father was a pedophile.

    But, what I believe most will not do, is share this history with the next generation. 

     

    And, what would prompt it?

    If, their relationships have remained unchanged, if life has more or less gone on the same from the time of my father's trial, what is there to question?

     

    There was nowhere in my childhood/young adulthood, where sexual abuse was discussed. Nowhere were generations before me telling me about the cycle and history of sexual abuse.

    No one was talking about what happened, and what would have been a better tactic to prevent future abuse.

    And, even more importantly, who was abusing, who had been abused etc, and how to keep this generation and the next safe. What was healing and wholesome and healthy after experiencing abuse.

    Nothing.

    The silences were profound in the absence of talking.

     

    There were women I looked up to in our family.

    Yet, these same women were silent.

    Secret keepers.

    Protectors of a reality that would have been good to know.

    Or, more the gatekeepers of a reality that didn't exist.

     

    Growing up among the secret keepers, there is an unwritten rule about what is okay to question and what is not.

    Which brings me to my last conversation with my mother. I went to see her upon her request.

    One of the first things she said was that her religion was not to be discussed and that more or less we were not going to discuss my father.

    These were her sacred cows, the places she was unwilling to explore and know more about.  Is it a coincident that the abuser, and her tools to forgive him were not to be explore or questioned.

    Didn't that make her the queen of secret keepers, at least in regards to my father.

     

    I wonder now how she truly sees me.

     

    Instead of looking at the secrets, she looked at me.

     

    In Rachael Denhollander's book "How Much is a Little Girl Worth", she writes about the willingness to stand against abuse, equals the willingness to give up say your religion or spouse, or school or organization, in which it lies.

    My mother's inability to give up her ideas of her husband and religion, disallowed her to explore any avenue of sexual abuse.

    Perhaps what hurt the most, is the reality of who she actually was.

    In the words of Rachael, how much is a little girl worth, or more many little girls.

    In fact, it is often said, it takes hundreds of little children to make someone change their minds about a person and/or religion/organization.

     

    Maybe the biggest secret there was, was who my parents truly were. They gave off an image that contrasted the reality of what truly lay beneath.

    Which is why, I am so adamant about walking the talk.

     

    The echoes of the "How is that working for you" remark my brother threw at me, lands so differently than how he sees it. 

    Living in unison and harmony with reality allows for everything.

    Nothing is off limits.

     

    Are secrets a non-reality maker?

    A pretend starter.

    Let's pretend that this didn't happen and return to 'normal'.

    In my mother's world, the forgiveness of sins worked remarkably well, it allowed her to have the reality she wanted. No sexual abuse stuck to it. It was quickly removed and sent to the sea of grace, where it wasn't to be mentioned again.

    The forgiveness of sins, is a way that you remove from your reality, the truth of what is.

    Secrets are just reality that isn't talked about.

     

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  • No Secrets

    "How come you never talk about a Mom, do you have a Mom?" asked my 4 and a half year old granddaughter?

    "I do have a Mom, but I haven't talked to her in many years," I said.

    "You could call her", she said.

    "Yeah, I could, but I don't want to", I said.

    Why, she asked.

    I then told her that when I was a little girl, some bad things happened, and my mother didn't do things that would have helped.  I didn't go into details. I just then talked about how little children need adults who will help them when bad things happen.  That little children shouldn't be left alone to be in their hurt.

    I told her I would never leave her alone if she was hurting.

    She agreed and gave me a Hug.

    "I love you grandma", she said.

    "I love you too", I said.

     

    As we then continued to work on parts of her Halloween Costume, it came to me, that I would much rather be on this side of the conversation. I am not sure I could handle the opposite.

    How would it be to try and explain in a reasonable account of being okay, or complacent, and even apathetic about sexual abuse to a child.

    I think, many people believe, if they themselves are not party to the abuse, BUT are there, it isn't 'as bad'. 

    I feel good knowing, I won't have to have that conversation – of knowing, but not reacting.

     

    She also asked about brothers and sisters. I told her I had many, but that I no longer talked to them. She again, asked why?

    I told her, there were various reasons for each of them, but that it all came down to being with people that I trusted.

    That sometimes, you choose not to be with people who don't make you feel safe.

    She accepted that.

    I again, felt good being able to show her I have boundaries.

    That I am able to discern who I feel safe with.

    I love the image of having someone older say to you, I have boundaries.

    It is okay to not be with everyone.

    It is okay to feel unsafe and stay away.

    It is okay to set up boundaries and end relationships.

    It is okay to honor your feelings.

     

    I had wondered how the conversation would go, if and when, a grandchild asked.

    The conversation flowed into our space of creating, and was allowed.

    No secrets were formed or kept.

    It was all allowed into the light of day.

    There is a podcast, "Family Secrets" by Dani Shapiro.  And, it shows how secrets alter a child's life, EVEN if they are unaware of them.  

    I love how my 4 and a half year old, noticed and asked.  

    Noticed, that I didn't have a family.

    But, that grandpa did.

    She wondered.

    We think little ones are unaware - when often they are picking up on small details.

    No matter what is the reality in our worlds, it is best everyone knows how things are.

    It is the unknowing – or having to keep a secret, or not being able to talk about things that are not pleasant, that distorts us.

    It doesn't change reality, it changes who we are.

    I want my grandchildren to know that I came from a family of secrets, that I had things that were unknown to me. And, that there were things we didn't talk about.  And, I am not willing to propagate that into my family.

    There is nothing I will not talk about.

    No secrets to keep, or to hold, on my limb of the family tree.

    You can talk to me about all things, always.

     

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    A healthy family carries no secrets.