I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Right to Criticize Me

    Mostly I blog or write on here to sort out my mind, and to place unanswered questions, I write to unscramble frustrations.  I am doing this mostly for me.  And, most often by the end of the blog, I have a new awareness.

    Sometimes, I just want the record of the days news or history or to keep a new understanding written down.

    I want evidence, if you will, how prevalent sexual abuse is within church communities, how I am NOT the anomaly that many accused me of being.

    Perhaps I too, want my voice to be heard, in my voice.

    To write what most won't listen to.

    I write about my experiences, and my insights, and my viewpoint.

    I write to bring to light to an area that has been in the dark.

    That operates in the dark.

    That needs there to be silence and no one talking about it.

    Where no one challenges the faithful.

    I am willing to get the flack for speaking out.

    Which is why so many are silent.

    I want to be the prod to make others think differently.

    For I could have used a prod years ago.

    Someone has to be the one to speak up.

    To ask the tough questions.

    To be willing to be seen as 'short sighted' or how little I know.

    I deleted a Facebook post, which I should have kept.

    It is amazing how they will come full guns upon me, instead of going where the real trouble is.

    That church isn't about Man.

    Really?

    It is about God.

    Yet, the man is who is in the churches sexually abusing.

    You have to put your God down for a moment and deal with this.

    God isn't going anywhere.

    What I am trying to tell you all, is that while you are worshiping your God, Man is running around abusing the children. 

    What can we do about this?

    What can you do?

    The sheer frustration to me, is that you will continue to worship and go and see God, regardless of what is going on underneath.

    The underneath needs attention.

    It needs you to stop and refocus your attention.

    God can take care of himself, the children cannot.

     

    I can't even begin to remember my old faith, the way I was unwilling to place anything before it. I can't know what would have shook me out of that faithfulness. Well, what did was my niece saying Grandpa touched me.

    It was abuse within my family.

    And, perhaps the closeness that echoed in me.

    But, what will it literally take.

    Hollering back at me is not the answer.

    Belittling me isn't going to work neither.

     

    What do I know.

    I know, that if you the truly faithful continue on being faithful, it doesn't affect the lives of the abused.

    What I needed as a child, were church members to be horrified.

    To not keep up the image of the goodness of the church.

    I needed them to get rid of the darkness it operated within.

    I needed light upon what was making us all traumatized.

    I needed the good christians to have been more concerned about the children than their relationship with God.

     

    There has to be a way for you all to keep your God and to protect the children.

    There has to be answers.

    A new way.

    As I have said a thousand times before, you can't keep doing what the generations before you did, and expect things to change.

    Abuse isn't going to stop itself.

    Abusers will not decide one day to stop abusing.

    Children are being molested and we have to find ways to not be co-conspirators by our inactions.

     

    I walked out of my church.

    I walked out of my family.

    I didn't do these things because I hated God.

    I didn't leave God, I left due to the fact that abuse wasn't being dealt with, at all.

    In fact, the very nature of the church's business was to forgive the 'sins' abuse that the perpetrators did upon the children.

    This was too much for me to handle.

    I didn't leave my family cause I stopped loving them.

    I left because their actions were not going to stop abuse from happening again.

     

    I needed to change what I was doing, in order to be the end of the abuse cycle in my life.

     

    I can't see how doing the same thing you did prior to knowing of the abuse, will affect change.

    I can't, and I can't not speak out to women who are perplexed and outraged at the volume of abuse, and YET, they are not making life changes in their own lives.

    I get it.

    Change is hard.

    Looking deeply into what is going on and how your actions may or may not be a contributing factor is hard. But, WHO IS GOING TO STOP ABUSE?

    It feels like the apathy is winning.

    The faithful are remaining faithful.

    How is it going to be stopped?

    I have been told repeatedly to keep speaking out, keep being brave, keep having the courage and to keep this blog going.

    Really?

    To what end?

    What changes have others made in their lives that will stop the cycles from picking up speed.

    The numbers in the catholic church that have been exposed, by a few States doing the investigating, are the tip of the iceberg in that religion.

    That religion.

    That one religion.

    What about the others.

    What about the church you attend?

    What about within the circle of your friends and community?

    What are you willing to give up to save a child from having to experience trauma?

    Go ahead and blast me, I don't care.

    I have had more wrath than I ever expected to be sent my way for speaking up.

    But, at the end of the day, you all sit with your actions, your God and your religion.

    You get to see how your life is preventing abuse or enabling it.

    I am not mad, I am frustrated more at the non-abusing folks than at the abusers almost.

    It takes a village to keep the darkness dark.

    My one blog isn't loud enough to shake the foundations upon which you all stand.

    What will topple the cycles of abuse?

    What will make it harder for abusers to abuse?

    Will it matter to them if you are diligently worshiping your God?

    Will it matter to them if you are keeping the family close and unchallenged?

    Will it matter to them if they see how you forgive and forget?

    Know, that the abusers are watching you.

     

    And more, the children are watching you too.

    What will they see you doing?

    I can't know, if I have done enough to stop abuse in my family's tree, from my life. From the lives of my children and grandchildren.

    I can't know if what I have done is enough.

    Or, what more can I do.

    I can know is that I am trying

    I am sharing how abuse is seen from the eyes of a victim.

    What is helpful and then not helpful.

    I can be outspoken in my life and hope that at the very least, there are no dark places.

    Will my new pattern be enough?

    Will there be more generations beneath me who is still abused?

    Will what I have done, matter?

    I believe, based on what I needed my mother to do, that it is a start in the right direction.

    I am doing what I wished would have been done for me.

    At the very least, look at your pattern, your cycle and see if there are changes from when you were a child. 

    As I sit here today, as I sit here with myself, I am at peace that I have tried.

    I have done what I can to change the pattern in the cycle of abuse within my life span.

    I can only affect my life.

    Each of you will have to do the same within your own life cycles.

    This blog has not been for naught.

    It has allowed me the space to unravel and old pattern and reconstruct a new one.

    The me who began this blog was not the me who is sitting here today.

     I M perfect, and it is impossible not to be.

    This is my rendition of trying to stop the cycle of abuse.

    Certainly there were places I could have done better, but at least I am in the arena trying to wrestle this beast.  

    Only those in the arena with me have the right to criticize me.

    "It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. Theodore Roosevelt 

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Prison of voices

    My head is fairly quiet, the loud voices have all but been silenced.  They didn't suddenly all shut up, but I found, that the more my life aligned with my feelings, the less noisy my head became.

    I wonder about the conception of the voices, where did they arise from?

    Are they us questioning ourselves, or are they an echo from someone in our lives.

    In the past my mother's voice was the loudest, deafening out my own quiet knowing.

    The beliefs and words of the church scrambled to be heard as well.

    My fears were loud and unreasonable.

    And, the wishes and hopes for things to be different often grabbed the microphone.

    All of them shouting and clamoring for attention, in my mind.

    Each time a situation happened, a crowd of voices began shouting.

    It was as if I had no vote in the matter.  

    I only was able to choose who I listened to.

    Whose direction would I follow.

    I was a puppet, with many puppet masters.

    And, it is no wonder that I felt like a chameleon. I changed depending upon whose voice I was following. I never could hold a steady course for me.

    However, once I began making choices based on my feelings, and not the voices in my head, I began to slowly redefine me. Or actually define me.  It was the Me for the first time.

    I wasn't listening or pleasing the outside. I was acting from what I felt inside.

    I believe, when the voices were being neglected, they grew silent. They knew I no longer believed them wholeheartedly.

    Often, I literally would have to write down what the voices wanted, against what I wanted to do.  And, I would go into detail and how it would make me feel to do what they wanted compared to what I wanted.  I then could make a choice based on my feelings.

    If it brought me peace, love or joy – that is the way I headed.

    What is so shocking, but not, is how often the voices were dead wrong.

    It was what the outside wanted me to do, but it wasn't healthy or peaceful for me.

    There was a cost to me to follow the voice.

    Perhaps it would be pleasing to the outside, my mother, or sister or friend. But the voice that echoed their needs, often left me not honoring my true feelings.

    It was a simple process and it resembled guilt.

    The voice would say, "YOU should go, do, be….etc. And, the discussion began.

    I challenged each should of, would of, could of.

    No matter who I would disappoint, I was willing to, in order to rescue my life from the voices in my head.

    To become peaceful inside.

    It was quite shocking how little control I had of my life, and my body.

    Each time a stressful thought spoke up, I immediately was alert and aware. And, I challenged it with great respect and honor. I truly wanted to know the truth.

    Many of the voices were even subconscious.

    A belief buried deep.

    They would be found, when I couldn't take an action, but didn't know why.

    Or, I felt out of control, but I didn't know why.

    Each time, I would put pencil to paper and write until I discovered the truth.

    And, each time I uncovered the source of why I was out of control, I could see how I grew to be this way, and often, I then could respond differently.

    Now, my head is quiet.

    I wrote for at least 4 years into notebooks, and then I began this blog.  I wrote to find me, what I felt, and often, when something outside wanted me to be different.

    I wrote to find my reality.

    I am only at peace there.

    If I am uneasy and unsure, I can know I have left the here and now, and slipped into believing the voices in my head.

    Worry is a voice.

    Anxiety is a voice.

    Fear is a voice.

    Rarely do we have positive cheerleaders in our minds.

    My cheerleaders only cheered AFTER I successfully overran a voice.

    Only after I decided, and then acted on my own.

    And, I believe the cheerleaders voice come from the heart.

    From the inner sanctuary of you.

    The voice of the little girl, is what I heard first.

    My little girl self, that needed to be listened to.

    Her voice was little and timid at first and her cheers felt deeply.

    Eventually she grew stronger, louder and more defined, as I began making more and more choices that reflected her needs.

    My needs were grounded, as I said in reality. They needed, truth, integrity, actions, and whose outcome gave love to my self.

    Some, still may say this is the recipe for being selfish.

    But, it it literally is a loving relationship with self.

    You cannot love yourself if you hurt yourself by pleasing another.

    And just so you know, rarely as I changed, were there cheers from those I was placing boundaries. Instead, it was as if they grew stronger, to make sure my boundary was tough, secure and steady.

    Testing to see where the line was drawn.

    Most often the voice I now here is me.  A dream of an adventure, the nudge to try something new, curiosity and eagerness to explore more of life. Free from the prison of voices.

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  • Honor and Acknowledge Me.

    "Celebrate" to acknowledge – honor….

    I celebrated Me yesterday, I turned 60.

    I celebrated my journey.

    all of it.

    Not just the good times, the easy choices, but the tough heart wrenching tough ones.

    I celebrated my open heart, after so much heartache.

    I celebrated my open mind, after so many years of being closed.

    I celebrated my inner peace, love and joy.

    After so many years of wanting something different.

    A different body, a different life, a different this or that.

    I celebrated loving me right now just as I am.

    I celebrated the journey it has taken me to becoming Me.

    The things I had to let go of and the newness I had to embrace.

    I celebrated surviving, when I thought it was impossible.

    I celebrated my new love, of allowing and freedom.

    I honor me, by allowing, and accepting all of who I am to be.

    There is nothing I would change or remove.  All that I have experienced has brought me to where I am today.

    I celebrate life, for many lives have ended this year.

    I celebrate love, for many struggle within relationships.

    I celebrate my health, for many are ill.

    I celebrate my mental clarity, for many live in denial.

    I celebrate my positive nature, for many live in heavy darkness.

    I celebrate the love, peace and joy in my home, for many live unsure.

    I celebrate my relationships, with their integrity, and respect.

    I celebrate being a mom and grandma, for many would love the honor.

    I celebrate being an artist, for many are too shy.

    I celebrate the many different facets of being Me.

    How grateful I am to have lived to see 60 years of age.

    And, to love the me who landed here!

    It is a truly great privilege to be able to celebrate your own self!

    My job as I see it, is to live a life that brings me love, peace and joy.  And, it releases everyone the burden of making me happy, more joyful, more this or that.

    I got it.

    I am finding joy, love and peace within Me.

    Happiness is being able to celebrate your life, even when, or especially when tough times have entered your journey. Our work as a human being, is to continue to rise up to peace and acceptance, in all things.

    Perhaps I celebrate the most, because of what I lost, what I found, and where I have been. I know the opposite of what I now have.

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    I celebrate to honor and acknowledge Me!

  • Here

    I am 14 going on 60.

    On December 4, 2004 I woke up and it began a journey of becoming Me.

    When looking upon the two very different lives I have lived, I can hardly see the one who lived the longest.  The latest me, is much clearer and I feel so much more connected to her.

    She is very much self made.

    Whereas the early version was created by survival, cult-like religion and beliefs about herself and the world that were very limiting and small.

    I have judged both of them, by how they were treated by my family of origin.

    I judged the latest Me, by how my brother walked away.

    Perhaps not the woman herself, but her actions.

    Was it all a waste?

    Have I wasted a lifetime, when in the end, relationships end?

     

    Rob Bell, in his latest podcast spoke about waste.

    That we tend to see the worthiness of something, IF we get the outcome we intended.

    Like, I would be a worthy daughter, and sister, IF my family treated me as such.

    Instead of sitting with what I gave.

    Was what I gave a waste?

    Did I give something that was wasteful?

     

    My recollection of my giving, was most often the best of me.

    I gave to fill lacks.

    I gave until there was no more to give.

    Often, I gave too much, cared too much, loved too much.

    But, is that a waste?

     

    I gave of my art, I gave of my time, I gave of my wisdom, my experience, my truths, my intimate emotions, my integrity, when I found it myself.

    How can these be wasteful things?

    I used to say, I wish I had been an asshole, that I hadn't cared so much, and given so much, that in the end, it didn't matter. In the end, I was left without a family. That I was left with a broken heart and a confused mind. 

    I too, believed, that If I gave I would receive.

    Something of worth equal to what I had given.

    When I am left standing alone outside of my family, I judged me by their actions.

    I wasn't worthy, I hadn't given the right stuff, the right way, at the right time. It was all a wasted effort.

    They get to be the defining factor of whether I am a waste or not.

    It is hard not to feel wasteful when you are tossed aside, in a moment, after all you have given, it seems such a careless ending.

    How can you be so casually tossed aside, IF you were worth more.

     

    There are two sides of the estrangement.

    What I gave and how they valued it and me.

     

    I used to value how they seen me. I used feel more loving and kinder depending upon how they treated me.

     

    Now, I see clearly, what I gave of me, is what matters.

    I didn't withhold.

    I didn't water down my caring.

    I didn't give waste.

    I wasn't a waste.

     

    It wasn't all for naught.

    What I gave was sacred, the essence of me.

    And, you can't waste being yourself.

     

    They can value it or not, and that doesn't change who I am.

    This is another huge vein into my self esteem, that I have unplugged or cleared up.

     

    My value comes from knowing what I give.

     

    Another part of Rob's podcast spoke about "here".  When you are confused by how others react or respond, and when you feel the injustice of it all, "Here." Give it to the universe to hold.

    Here, I give you my relationships that ended so abruptly, or simply faded away.

    Many due to my changing. 

    Here.

    You hold them.

    I can't know why or how or whatever.

    Most often, I am left with silence, space and rejection.

    Here.

    I know what I gave, and it wasn't a waste.

    Here

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    You carry their response, I will carry what I gave.

    Here

     

     

     

     

     

  • In Reality

    Can you describe your life in one sentence, or are you a paragraph?  I heard this on a podcast, Soul Series. It is an interesting thought. What sentence are you living? What is the content of your life?

    My sentence structure, would consist of awareness, free empowerment, change, legacy, love of self, art, women…  I will have to work on seeing how I can fit how I exist into a sentence.

     

    Another thought from a podcast was, "People are not bad, Beliefs are."

    Just sit with that thought.

     

    My life changed, when I changed my beliefs.

    I was seen differently, and I seen the world differently, when I changed what I believed.

    When I left my religion, it was all in my head. I no longer believed as they all believed. The old beliefs were now unbelievable to me.

    When I left my family, it was all done in my head, I no longer believed as they did.

    I wasn't bad, but my new beliefs were not accepted.

    Nor, could I relate to the old beliefs anymore. We were no longer able to relate to each other. I wonder if that is the real meaning of relationship; the ability to relate to each other.

     

    One day, a brother changed his mind about me.

    The relationship ended.

    He has a new belief about me.

    All it takes for a relationship to end, is for one person to change their minds.

    Beliefs can make me a good person or a bad person and it has nothing to do with me.

     

    We are not born with a set of beliefs, we are taught a set of beliefs.

    How our parents believe, influence how they raise us.

    What their belief system was, became ours.

    It isn't so much who your parents are, but rather how they believed, that grew your mind or stunted it.

     

    How we are treated, affects what we believe about ourselves.

    If we are treated badly, we often have a lower sense of self -worth.

     

    There really are good and bad beliefs, much more than good and bad people.

    Our physical bodies are not what is bad, but rather the beliefs in our head.

     "When I believe my thoughts, I suffer." Byron Katie

     

    My life became more peaceful when I understood, that most often there is a belief system behind people.  

    A system that is leading them, often blindly, to do what they do.

    Isn't it Jesus who said, "Forgive them, they know not what they do."?

     

    I was led by a belief system for 46 years, without awareness, that I didn't make a conscious choice. My life wasn't mine to lead. It's whole content was driven by beliefs I was taught. 

    Fear kept me from even thinking about thinking of anything outside the system. 

    My future when I died demanded my compliance to the belief.

    And, my knowing I'd be shunned if I dared.

    The beliefs, were just the religious ones.  

     

    The dysfunctional abusive family beliefs were a whole different string.

    They were all designed to deflect reality and make the individual disappear or at very least become irrelevant.

    Beliefs that dovetailed with the church, "honor thy mother and thy father" no matter what.

    Beliefs that created, voiceless, choice-less, unseen, children that did not matter.

     

    It was earth shattering and mind blowing, when I awoke and challenged a mind full of beliefs that were not copacetic with reality.

    The beliefs in my head, had literally kept me from being in reality, seeing it, knowing it and believing it. I lived a few feet from my real world, in a land where reality wasn't present.

    Beliefs are bad, not people.

    I wasn't born narrow minded, I was taught to be.

    I wasn't born with negative beliefs about others, I was taught to believe I was better.

    I wasn't born believing in hell, or heaven, I was taught about it.

     

    Beliefs are given to us, as much as vegetables and milk, and they create a human being who lives peacefully and respectfully or one who is judging and righteously removing equality from others.

    My whiteness came with a busload of beliefs that made so many others less than.

    My "faith" and its beliefs, had me on the road to heaven, while others were headed to hell.

     

    Beliefs matter in times of peace and in times of war.

    What you believe matters more than what you do.

    Perhaps my sentence is…

    "She no longer believed, and from there lived a life of freedom and peaceful love with her self and the rest of the world, in reality."

     

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  • Without you in it.

    In life there are people whose path we cross, that are bright spots.  Whose energy, humor, respect, and friendship add joy to your life.

    We didn't see each other often, but when we did, it was always a fun connection.

    We met through my speaking out, and Art.

    I entered into his space, the helping community.

    Unsure, nervous and yet bold.

    I had words to say and art to share.

    He listened, understood, admired and reached out.

    We collaborated, and my Story Line quilts were hung up at Copper Country Mental Health; and still hang there today, about 4 years later.

    He got me and my art.

    And, I felt seen and heard by him.

    He came to most of my speaking events.

    He was there when others were not.

    It was always so comforting to see his smiling face in the audience.

    His kind approval mattered.

    He would say he had the honor of being my biggest fan.

    It was a mutual club, for I was his too.

    We connected over family that were distant to each of us.

    He just got it, for it was his experience too.

    Our common ground, and mutual love and respect was a comfort for each of us.

    I really cannot believe he's gone.

    How can this be possible?

    When I think of a kind gentle loving funny soul, I think of him.

    I am forever grateful to have shared moments on our journeys together.

    I don't know where you go when your body passes.

    But, wherever you are, I hope you have all the love you gave.

    Know that you made a difference in my life.

     

    You gave me courage and friendship when I needed them both.

    You helped me grow, by seeing a bigger potential than I saw within.

    I loved your utter confidence in being simply you.

    A you that was you, always.

    I will miss you Joseph Freed.

    My forever friend.

    My buddy.

    Oh, Joe.

    My world is sadder without you in it.

     

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  • Easy Road

    Passive Aggressive behavior was one of the ways I was raised to respond. Instead of facing anything directly, you use a non-verbal reaction that shows your silent disapproval aggressively.  

    When someone does this, even today, I am flung backwards into my early years and feel resentment that lingers for days.

    And, oddly – I use passive aggressive behavior back. 

    My words are silently held in my head – where I have multiple debates that are never spoken out loud.

    In the past week this happened. 

    One being the discussion about Dr. Ford and the Judge, and then someone turning up the music to drown out the discussion – without using her words.

    A double slam.

    Is how it felt.

    Shutting down the topic, and using a passive aggressive behavior.

    And, I was amazed and a little amused – at first.

    But, then a weird thing happened – I turned back to my childhood responses.

    I followed the silent debate.

    And, adhered to miming our feelings.

    Instead of speaking about them.

    I was silent

    She was too loud.

    Conversation adverted.

    After sitting with the overview, for a few days, I saw how someone can choose not to listen, how you truly have to have a safe and open environment to have a healthy conversation.

    Two people caring enough to listen.

    That even if one party is open to sharing all kinds of topics, the other person can shut it down.

    I was shocked most about being brought back to childhood.

    To be almost 60 and feeling like a 'bad' child.

    The brushing off of my words felt so disrespectful.

    Just how you block your ears and sing or holler as to not hear the other person.

    To spare yourself from hearing that which you don't want to hear.

     

    I wondered whose lesson this was, and what could I learn?

    First it showed me the application of passive aggressive behavior.

    How closed it is and almost violent to our feelings.

    And, non-evolving.

     

    What I learned was how you can literally see a closed ear by how someone behaves.

    That words don't have to be explicit.

    And, how that makes you feel.

    Cast aside as if you didn't matter.

    Not you or your thoughts.

     

    This one sided selfishly arrogant relationship is familiar to me.

    I was raised by a parent who used this behavior to control us.

    And, I can see how it works, but how limiting it is.

     

    This encounter brought me back to how I used to be.  How I would seethe in silence for days to show my anger. How I would use non-verble messages to portray my feelings.

    I didn't have words.

    More, I didn't have a secure and trusting understanding of who I was.

     

    I was the silent victim – whose words were drowned out.

     

    I now see how this worked so well for my mother, and later me.

     

     

    Passive aggressive behavior is – I had to look up the real meaning to see if at the end of this rant, I had it correct according to the dictionary.

    "Passive–aggressive behavior is characterized by indirect resistance to the demands of others."

    and, this

    "A Mayo Clinic specialist explains the signs of this indirect way of expressing negative feelings."

    and,

    "Upbringing: Some suggest that passive-aggressive behavior may stem from being raised in an environment where the direct expression of emotions was discouraged or not allowed. People may feel that they cannot express their real feelings more openly, so they may instead find ways to passively channel their anger or frustration."

    and this,

    "Taking the easy road: Being assertive and emotionally open is not always easy. When standing up for yourself is difficult or even scary, passive-aggression might seem like an easier way to deal with your emotions without having to confront the source of your anger."

     

    All apply to how I was raised. And, why I too chose the path of passive aggressive.

    This encounter this week has taught me the code of my childhood.

    I can totally see why this was needed in a home with abuse.

    "People may feel that they cannot express their real feelings more openly, so they may instead find ways to passively channel their anger or frustration."

    This line is particularly poignant to me.  For without your real feelings, can you be real?

    I know that this is so true. We do become passive aggressive IF we can't express our real feelings openly.

    My intention is to now live fully expressing my feelings. 

    And, will have to learn how to do so more effectively with passive aggressive people.

    How interesting it is, that taking the "easy road" is to be passive aggressive. For, it truly is harder to be emotionally open and assertive. And, being passive aggressive, You don't have to confront the source of your anger. Which to me is the most meaningful tool used in abusive homes.

    Expressing your emotions and sitting with the source of your anger isn't the easy road.

     

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  • A joyful ride

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    Sometimes it feels like we are walking in circles, not getting anywhere, either personally or collectively. However, each of us carry a part of the evolution of humanity. We can only push back, IF there is something to push against.

    Is it possible, that the struggle to find balance IS what pushes us forward.

    Could there be any evolution if we began balanced?

    There are times, I would love to insert new knowledge into people – but would be horrified, if that happened to me.

    I believe, that each of us are changing and evolving, learning and growing at a pace that suits our souls.

    After pondering who we can sort out the truth, I saw this article today.

    This Article Won't Change Your Mind

    What I love is how this article rings true in my experience.

    And, a phrase I love the believe is  "A mind convinced against its will is of the same opinion still."

    In life we will all have moments and choices of whether to believe something or not.  It doesn't matter which way you ultimately chose, for you will live with the choice you make.

    Your mind will find peace or not, with how you chose to take in new knowledge.

    It will either support your beliefs or challenge them. And, then you can either keep your beliefs, or change your mind.

    I also, agree that no one but you can change your mind.

    This is an inside job and done on your time line.

    Nothing we can say, nor any proof to the contrary will change your mind.

    I LOVE THIS.

    It totally frees us all up to play! 

    We are not hear to teach or work to change anyone's mind.

    I know, that most often I write to understand my self and my thoughts and even to challenge my beliefs. I write to find peace in my own mind.

    In the writing out our fears, angers, frustrations etc, allows the mind to wrestle with what it believes it knows to be true.

    Oprah was on to something, when her TV show was about getting what she called Ah Ha's.  Where someone came on and made her look at life differently.

    I love this too.

    I seek books, podcasts and people who will show me a new view.

    Living open to new possibilities.

    Mostly, I LOVE that I am free to be Me.  It isn't my job to change your mind.

    You and your mind are a team that live together. 

    I hope it is a joyful ride.

     

  • Columbus day is a perfect example of something having two sides – ask the Indigenous people what they think of this day? I like that my phone calendar has both of them listed.

    I listened to Krista Tippett's podcast "On Being" with Layli Long Soldier –

    On Being Podcast with Layli Long Soldier

    History has two sides.

    How can it not?

    We see and feel life from our side of each experience.

    And, we also see history, from the side we were taught.

    If there is a war, there will be two sides of the war. And your 'rightness' will be on the side you are on.

    We look at our childhoods from our vantage point – our parents traveled through our years differently.

    I know my experience, and I recognize that others will have their own perceptions of the world.

    Again, this was never been more clear, than speaking out about abuse. Not all can see from your vantage point, but that doesn't negate it. 

    What I believe is happening now, is that the silent side is now speaking.

    Not just with the latest victim to speak out, but that there is a wave going through our society, where each time a victim speaks, it encourages another to break their silence.

    So, we now have two sides of the same history.

    Because the sides don't often match, does it mean that one is more true than the other?

    And, is it most true if only one side shares their view?

    If the silent remain silent, does that effect history?

    I was so naive that I didn't even question what we were taught in school about history. We were taught our side of history, the white american side.

    Maybe had I attended college, I would be wiser about the history of the world.

    In the history of my family, up and until I was 46 years old, I had not heard about sexual abuse. 

    This is not unusual. 

    This doesn't mean it didn't happen, it just means that the victims were silent.

    The #Metoo movement is the side of our history many would rather have silenced.

    My history lessons in school about Columbus, didn't mention the view of the native americans. Ever.

    It felt kind – leaving that point out.

    In order for humanity to evolve, we need all the voices to be heard.

    We cannot change what we do not acknowledge.

    Today, I celebrate the voices of the Indigenous – who challenge history's account of Columbus Day.

     

     

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  • Truth held with Respect.

    As a woman, a woman who has survived sexual abuse, I am left wondering how to fit reality into my future. The reality of Dr. Ford's words and how the response was so ineffective.

    What does this say to women who speak up?

    We have had the rare opportunity on a large stage to see how victims are treated. What is expected from them and how some will treat her.

    Society seems to be split in half about whose side they feel drawn to.

    And, there doesn't appear to be a middle ground.

    In the land of she said, he said, we pick the side that feels right to us.

    I can't know what the he said side feels like.

    I am not drawn to his words.

    Hers, had echoes of mine.

    Is it because I was abused too?

    How do we find a reasonable response to an unreasonable outcome?

    How do I accept that this sort of treatment goes on, on a larger stage, with supposedly intelligent folks?

    That women are still not heard for the truth they carry. That many still fear the "false reporting" as if it was the majority.

    Women who dare to unload their burden of abuse, certainly don't need to be dragged down the road that Dr. Ford traveled.

    What I do know, is that that road makes you a badass, if you can survive and rise above the folks who are looking to dismiss and make you feel your truth is worthless.

    I thought, that my family, the religion I belonged to, were too dysfunctional to be aware of how truth felt. 

    And, to be fair, they seen the truth, but responded in different ways. In ways that preserved the life they had, the faith they had, the reality they loved and controlled.

    It makes me wonder about the people in Dr. Ford's case.

    How is it possible for a judge to not recognize her truth or even his?

    Is truth black and white in reality?

    Is it either the truth or it is not.

    How simple is all of this, really?

    While it appears to be complicated, where folks will rush to the reputation and side of the alleged abuser, and put up guards against 'false' reporting, is it really simple.

    Who makes it complicated?

    And, who strives for the simple clear way.

    What is the responsibility of the folks on the sidelines?

    In my experience, when I woke up to the fact of my abuse, it sure would have been nice to have folks who could clearly show you the way. Here is the reality of the land, here is the truth and here is the untruth.

    What I found instead, were many people who were living life, with many more shades of grey than black and white. Whose lives were littered with the untruths of their life.

    This may seem odd.

    But, think about it.

    How many people do you know, who are not happy in their lives, but act like they are?

    Who may not like their family, but spend time with them?

    Or, married folks who are not living married lives.

    And, this isn't just true for people, but also institutions.

    Like my old church.

    How many churches are living the truth of their faith, or actually, how many of their church members, live lives of their faith?

    In the case of the Catholic church, lies are falling from the priests like rain showers.

    So, when a victim speaks up, who are the honest ones who will hear?

    Are there not many more folks living lies, who don't even recognize the truth or are too afraid of what your truth will mean to their lives?

    Doesn't it kinda makes sense, that those living lies, are afraid of their own truths being found out? They are defensive of the facade, for they themselves live behind one?

    What I know to be true, in my experience, is that my truth wasn't well received.

    In fact, it was easier to put space between them and myself.

    There were a variety of reasons to do so.

    Often, silence took its place.

    Distance.

    And, in the beginning I took it personal.

    I was extremely sensitive to how others treated me.

    That I was somehow to blame.

    If only I had been kinder with my truth, perhaps more gentle and articulate. If only I had tried harder to be clearer and maybe less traumatized. Less mental after discovering my life was completely upside down from the truth of what was.

    What I have learned is that it wasn't me, my words, my evidence – or the lack thereof, etc etc.  It wasn't about me.

    Each person gets to decide how they will respond when a victim speaks.

    We all have free will as to which side we side up to.

    What my mind didn't expect was to see such appalling treatment done to a victim who had the courage to speak her truth. I know, there will be some who want to sit in the false reporting, but I am going to go with her.

    I can no more explain the other side today, than I could years ago with my father.

    Something inside of me, is drawn to her.

    And, not the judge.

    I am wondering, if the same can be true for them?

    Perhaps they too can't help it.

    It isn't a choice for them, any more than it is a choice for me.

    It isn't about the mind at all, but the subconscious feelings.

    Is it fear?

    Fear of the truth, or fear of false reporting?

    Interesting.

    I am not moving in fear.

    I am moving towards an empowered woman.

    Courage.

    Bravery.

    Vulnerable.

    I am not sure I move because of fear anymore.

    I use to.

    I was fear driven.

    Fear of not being liked, going to heaven, sinning, of not being a good daughter, a good sister, a friend.

    Now, I strive to just be me.

    And listen to my body, my gut, my feelings.

    I can't know why others move differently.

    I try to keep my reality free of pretend things.

    Inside as well as outside.

    I can no longer pretend to pretend to pretend.

    If it doesn't feel right, it can't be part of my world, nor can I support it.

    It may be age, but mostly, it is once I embraced my whole truth, the good, the bad and the very ugly, I can't abide by less.

    I accept what is, even if in doing so, my whole world falls apart.

    I feel that Dr. Ford, is just another thing to add to my reality. The juxtaposition between her truth and the outcome she had to face. She is the very example of why the percentage of false reporting. Who would willingly sign up for the treatment she has received?

    While my mind is more at rest now, knowing that we live in a world where many live a few steps from their truth, it will look messy. It will act messy. And, we can't expect truth from many who live lives of untruth.

    It is my hope that truth wins, only but 100% of the time.

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    And, if my truth is wrong, I will surely know.

    I live my life seeking the truth, no matter how it appears. And, I ask for the truth to be shown to me, always.

    Today in my art, I was drawn to black and white.  I wanted simplicity in my backgrounds.

    The movement is bright – it's hope.

    Hope that one day, victims will be well received and their truth held with respect.