I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • ….walked as you.

    My sister sent a request on facebook a few days ago, a ‘friend request’ and I accepted it with some trepidation.

     

    I am not sure why she is stepping into my world after 4 years and I asked her that.  I also asked if she still holds on the to views of her last letter.

     

    So far there hasn’t been a response, perhaps my request is not one she is willing to answer.

     

    In life we are asked many requests and in the past I would jump in without first asking a few questions or testing the waters, if you asked, I jumped and usually asked how high!

     

    Now, I am much wiser and hold my heart in a place of value, I just don’t go walking into places that will hurt me.

     

    Her silence could mean many things, yet I am surprised that her eagerness to have me back seems to be on pause.

     

    What stopped her?  What made her stop her advancement?  What has her retreating or re-thinking….and she could be asking the same of me.

     

    I know why I am not eagerly walking forward to embrace this woman, my experience of her still rings in my ears. 

     

    I invited her to read my blog as a way to find out if our ideals match, to see if she still wanted to be my friend. 

     

    Where can the two of us meet, what common ground is there for us to stand upon?  Why does she now feel that she wants to be part of my life, and which part?

     

    What part of my life do you want to enter into?   You suggested that you love me, so which part?  And that you have hopes of all the sisters reuniting, what will we reunite?

     

    How can I unite with you, we seem such opposites.

     

    I have always felt that if a brother or sister walked towards me I would meet them half way and not turn around.

     

    I am standing here facing you, asking what it is you feel inside about me.  It is a fair request.

    What do you see in me?

     

    In order to love me, you have to know me.  You can’t just love what you dream of me to be.

     

    I am not a thought in your head about what a sister should do, could do, or would do; I am a live walking talking moving person.

     

    Do you know me outside of your dreams?

     

    If you want to enter into a relationship with me, I ask just for your truth, show me who you are.

     

    If you are reading the blog, go back to the beginning and read along, it will open your eyes as to who I am, and I will understand if you withdraw your request.

     

    It seems that I became the enemy, the other side, and I know that you will have to forsake all you have ever known to walk along with me.

     

    It is way too much to ask.

    It is and will always be up to you to be with me.

     

    I understand your silence.

    I am the monster you fear the most.

    I am reality.

     

    I am reality walking and doing free of dysfunction, an enemy of your mind, your thoughts and your beliefs, your love and your security.  I am the opposite of all you have even been.

     

    Your silence will be a signal that you are not wanting to be with me.  I understand.

     

    I know where you are sitting…. I sat there.

    I know what you are thinking, I thought there.

    I know where your loyalties lie, I was loyal too.

    I know you for I know me.

     

    I wish you peace with this decision.
    I wish you strength and courage.

     

    I walked free….so I know you can too.

    You are much braver than me!

     

    A sister, one who walked as you.

     

     

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  • An Artist Date.

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    A friend and I went for an early morning walk along a ski trail, with cameras in our hands looking to be inspired by nature.  I love the way they all crowd together, like not wanting to be left out.  I know that feeling well.  Yet sometimes the brave ones just sprout in their own glory, right in the middle of the road, almost daring you to step on or around them!

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    There is nothing like the healing energy that fills you up as you walk in the woods.  I am so peaceful there, surrounded by the power of the Universe.

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    The greatest Art Gallery in the world, we walk, live and breathe in!  I am inspired!

  • The shoes I wore were all for naught.

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    When I quoted my sister’s letter to me, and how in her own words, stated the way she wasn’t in denial, how she was front and center in my father’s life;

     

      “I have dealt with his probation officer and counselor.  He resides in my home.  He leaves the yard 4 times a month; his name/picture and my address are on the offenders list for protection of ALL others.  My son knows the truth, and my husband knows the truth, as well as his family and my friends.  DO NOT EVER dare say that I am in denial.  I care for him DESPITE all the horrific offenses he has committed in his lifetime.  He will die with me and you NEVER have to see him again.  I chose to forgive for MY SAKE and yet you judge…….What accountability do you take as a daughter?  How come you didn’t know the truth?  Why as one of the oldest did you not protect us?  Why JUST blame mom?” 

     

    Yesterday it occurred to me, it isn’t that she is in denial of who my father is, but she is denying herself actions on her part.  She is unable to move in a new way, to not be a daughter.

     

    She has seen him, but her only option is to stand in the relationship, it would never ever occur to her that this action from my father is a nudge (explosion) for her to go.

     

    The ‘application’ or the walk of denial is to continue on as though nothing has changed.  Meaning you still have to be a daughter, you still have to bring your love, your attention, your caring, your every thing, and he doesn’t have to lift a finger to warrant it.

     

    They cannot see the one-sidedness of their relationship.

     

    What I was so amazed by is their inability to not see him as a father who is a pedophile. But, Now I get that they did see him with this horrific offense, but what they failed to realize is that they held the consequence. 

     

    Their denial isn’t in who he is, but more in who they are.

     

    She can’t see that he gave up the right to have loving, caring daughters, the day he molested them.

     

    It isn’t us that need to work harder to become a better daughter, but he has to now start from square one and become a father.

     

    She thinks that if she can be a better daughter, than he will be a better father.  Impossible.

     

    She is in denial of her own self worth.

    She is in denial that she can walk out.

    She is in denial that she has the right to put up boundaries.

    She is in denial that she has to stay and be in a relationship with a man who molested her.

     

    It is shocking to me even, to see the application of denial.

     

    That it isn’t about seeing the damaged one, but instead to NOT SEE how you get to be a different person to them.

     

    I can literally see the denial at work, but she thinks that with staying in the game, rubbing shoulders and taking him to counseling sessions, by posting ‘warning’ signs in her yard, she is dealing correctly.

     

    Dealing correctly?

     

    She is only seeing one part of the deal.  She doesn’t see herself and how she is affected by his behavior, nor does she feel she has a choice.

     

    If she continues to only view her self as “his daughter” than she will continue to wear daughter shoes.

     

    In her letter, she writes, “What accountability do you take as a daughter?”

     

    In her world daughters have roles, daughters have rules, daughter comes before self.

     

    What I know to be true is that to the depth of her being, she feels that she must act and do as she is doing, that is what a good daughter would do.

     

    I lived in that locked up space, in the tight unmovable spot, I too used to believe that it was up to me to keep that family together, against all odds.

     

    Yet in the end, it wasn’t me who did.

     

    In the end, I tossed away my daughter shoes.

     

    I tossed away the shoes I wore to keep that family together, to keep it whole and loving.  Those shoes didn’t work.

     

    They were not magic shoes; they could not erase reality and build in its place a loving family.

     

    The shoes I wore were all for naught.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Lady in Joy!

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    "Woman lose their lives not knowing they can do something different…..I claimed myself and remade my life.  Only when I knew I belonged to myself completely did I become capable of giving myself to another, of finding joy in desire, pleasure in our love, power in this body no one else owns." 

    Dorothy Allison, from Two or Three things I know for sure.

  • I can.


    ”We would if we could.”  This phrase my brother picked up from Bryon Katie.  Her books are about accepting what is, or loving what is.  So that phrase must be in reference in being unable to accept what is.

     

    It can’t be about changing reality or changing other people, it has to be about changing ourselves, for she isn’t an advocate of trying to change someone else or even reality.

     

    I have been starting and stopping pages about ‘I would if I could’ in trying out to see the application of that.

     

    When does the phrase, “I would if I could” apply?

    When do you say those words and to whom?

    Do you say it to yourself or just to others?

     

    I would if I could.

     

    In my own world, I don’t say that very much, but I bet I act it out a lot and feel it plenty.

     

    I also bet my sisters, brothers and parents are the ones who feel the ramifications of the “I would if I could.”

     

    In my first writings of this it seemed like a victim mode, a stance you take or a refusal to do something, that maybe if you just changed your thoughts or beliefs or minds, you could.

     

    If I use this phrase in my current life with my current or nonexistent relationships with my brothers/sisters and parents, I can now see how it works.

     

    They see me refusing, and I am.

    They see how I could, but I don’t.

    I see how I could as well, but at what cost.

     

    I am thinking the choice is there, but that there is always a cost, always a consequence and always an affect.

     

    This information may only be a feeling, an intuitive knowing, but nonetheless it is there.

     

    There is something we are unwilling to give up in order to do what it is we are being asked to do.

     

    Mostly it seems we have to give up an idea in our minds.

     

    “I would if I could.”

     

    I know that feeling, but it is the opposite of how my brother is using it as.

     

    He uses it when his mind controls him.  When he feels victimized by his anxious roaming mind.  He would if could, but he is unable to get ahead of it.  It is like his mind is making the choice for him, not him.  That he believes his mind, or is incapable of not believing his mind.

     

    And I am standing on the opposite side of his example.

    I am challenging the mind, questioning it to see what is true for me.  I have more space to question my mind thoughts.  I see them come in and I engage them, but then get to decide If I tag along.

     

    Maybe my phrase is I could but I won’t.

    I can but I will not.

    It is feasible, but I am choosing not to.

     

    I have to believe that there is much more empowerment on this side of “I would if I could.”

     

    I would be a sister if I could….

    I would be a daughter if I could….

     

    I guess what we are saying really is I would but with conditions.

    Is it a bargaining of sorts?

     

    I would if I could, but I am unwilling to let go in order to grab on!

     

    In my world the cost is way too high to be back in relationships with folks who are incapable of seeing me with empathy and understanding.  And maybe this is an issue for me, that I am not seeing them with empathy or understanding.

     

    Is that true?

     

    It seems that in understanding me, I was unraveling them as well. 

     

    I do have empathy for them, I do know that they will when they can and until then they can’t. 

     

    To go back to my old way of thinking, believing, and being is impossible for me, “I would if I could?!”

     

    But it is like a bell that has been rung.  Byron Katie says, once you no longer believe something to be true, you can’t then believe it to be true ever again.  It is impossible to flip back and forth.

     

    I love that.

     

    I would if I could.  But my mind refuses to believe that my father is just a father, that my mother is not in denial, that my brothers and sisters are healthy whole functional beings.

     

    I can’t get that false belief back.  Thank God.

    I would if I could…..nope that isn’t even true.  I am happy that I can’t unlearn or forget that information.

     

    My life is so much more enriched knowing what I know.

     

    My brother hasn’t discovered all the truths and he is still seeking and investigating thoughts and beliefs that are not true.

     

    They call it seeking the truth; I am thinking it should be seeking the untruths that we believe in.

     

    That would be easier to discover.

     

    Is it true, can we absolutely know that it is true?

    How do you react when you believe that thought?

    Who would you be without that thought?

    Turn around, (find three examples of how each turnaround is true in your life.)

     

    Those are the questions Byron Katie uses to get you to see if your stressful thoughts are true.

     

    I love that I now know about “I would if I could” and I love how that isn’t even true for me.

     

    This has to be the meaning of a quality no….knowing you could but that you won’t.

     

    I can.

     

  • Will they walk on by, again.

    My brother and I began our blogs together on Easter Sunday, just a few months back.

     

    Immediately it grew into a space that became sacred.  It held our secrets, our truths and our fears with respect and dignity. 

     

    Our words lie here innocently, linked together, holding each other, intertwined together wrapping themselves with emotions of fear, love, triumph and failure, tangled with questions and mental thoughts, messy and unwinding until breaking free in understanding.

     

    I knew it wasn’t a locked place, or one that wasn’t open to anyone’s eyes, in fact I thought perhaps just one person could better understand themselves by reading about me, yet open means anyone can wander in.

     

    Yesterday my brother shares with me, he sent one of my sisters to his blog.  In his blog, and my blog is mentioned, so in fact he shared ‘our’ blogs with her.

     

    He opened the door of our sacred place, beckoning them inside to gaze about, into the rooms of our souls.

     

    Part of me welcomes them in, and a bigger part of me has me ducking in the back, hoping they come and leave quickly.

     

    My last encounter with this sister, was a four-page letter she wrote to me, dated February 19, 2007. 

     

    In the letter she accurately states that it had been 5 years since we seen each other and two since we had spoken.  We can now add another 2 ½ years to those numbers. 

     

    She is finally breaking her silence to pretty much tell me off.  “I was quiet long enough.  You have had many opportunities to inflict your pain on others and I HAVE HAD ENOUGH,” she writes.

     

    She sees me as the one inflicting pain.  Her screams come through the pages, the direct hits are slaps and her defense is for the rest of the family.

     

    Granted this letter was written two and a half years ago, so time could have softened her stance against me, yet what I recall most of that letter was the volume of anger, the intense hatred towards me and the loving defense for my father and mother.

     

    This is why most children never speak of the crimes against them.  I became a bigger monster than he!

     

    In this letter she claims she is not in denial for she has my father in her home. (below is an excerpt)

     

      “I have dealt with his probation officer and counselor.  He resides in my home.  He leaves the yard 4 times a month; his name/picture and my address are on the offenders list for protection of ALL others.  My son knows the truth, and my husband knows the truth, as well as his family and my friends.  DO NOT EVER dare say that I am in denial.  I care for him DESPITE all the horrific offenses he has committed in his lifetime.  He will die with me and you NEVER have to see him again.  I chose to forgive for MY SAKE and yet you judge…….What accountability do you take as a daughter?  How come you didn’t know the truth?  Why as one of the oldest did you not protect us?  Why JUST blame mom?  Why when I told you all about my friend did you not tell me she was right?  Why would you want me to continue to be a victim all those years of carrying that pain?  Who are you to tell mom that everything she did/gave in her life was “nothing”?  Sister, if you can truthfully answer all of these questions than you and I would have something to talk about. 

    I am NOT blaming you for anything but the constant drive to tear our family down and apart.  I know that we are not perfect and that we ALL have dysfunctions and so do all other families.  What point are you making that we don’t already know?  Who are you to say what is right or wrong for others?  You have every right to disagree, but why the toxic/hateful approach?  You ACTUALLY believe that not acknowledging our family makes you a BIGGER person?

    If our brother is really suicidal and you are the CLOSEST person to him, why can’t you help him?  Why can’t you heal the wounds of others if you have the knowledge to do so?  Why are you so determined to persuade others of your rightness…….

     

    And so the letter goes.

     

    So how do I welcome her in?  Who is she today?  What changes have occurred in her life, is she the same? 

     

    I do know that she and my mother are still in a relationship, for my mother’s last return address came from her town. 

     

    Isn’t it odd that I just write about denial and in pops my sister?  She believes that loving, dealing and being with a pedophile is not denial.  She calls that love and forgiveness.

     

    It almost seems absurd to not see what she is doing wrong, yet it is near impossible.

     

    I am blamed for tearing down and apart our family, and for not protecting the children that came behind me.  I am to blame.

     

    I am to blame for it all.

     

    Isn’t it wild how easy it is to blame the wrong one.

     

    The child gets blame, shamed and guilt for all things.

     

    Did she write her father a letter blaming him for destroying the lives of many?  Did she write her mother a letter blaming her for being in denial?  Did she?

     

    Instead I felt like I was the whipping pole that all used for the cause of our families troubles.  I was the cause, the problem and the reason, just me.

     

    And now she will walk into the blog and read my view?  Will she see it as excuses, flimsy reasons, delusional mutterings, and mental ramblings of a crazy sister?

     

    The juxtaposition between the two of us is incredible.

    If I had to have someone from the ‘other side’ read my blog, it would be her. 

     

    Imagine that she feels victimized by me, that I have inflicted my pain on others.

     

    My pain literally did affect others, my pain did drive me to take the stand I took, my pain did lead me away from a family of my childhood, my pain was the impetus in all my actions! 

     

    My pain in my early years blinded me, and for that reason alone, I was unable to stop a monster.

     

    She blames me for no action in the past and then the actions of today.  There is no winning spot with her.

     

    She is the voice of that side, the anger of that side, she is the one who labeled what I felt from them.

     

    Their energy wasn’t warm, it wasn’t fuzzy and there was no sign of understanding, empathy or caring.

     

    If they can’t see me, they can’t see one other little girl who was molested by him.  Maybe their denial is in whether they can see the damaged girl.

     

    Will my blog open eyes, will it shatter the denial of me, what will the response be.

     

    I am almost flinching from the second blow to come, to feel once again the rage and hatred to me.  Will it hurt as much this time?  Will I be stronger and better equipped?  What will this stir up? 

     

    Maybe a greater part of me fears they will not read.

    They will not bother.  Will that hurt more?

    My soul lays open, will they walk on by, again. 

     

  • Look the other way.

    “There are two ways to be fooled.  One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.”

     Soren Kierkagaard

     

     

    What is denial?

     

    Of course I had to look it up.

     

    Denial.

    -disavowal: a statement saying that something is not true or not correct

    -refusal to allow somebody something: a refusal to grant something desired or believed to be a right

    – refusal to acknowledge existence of something: a refusal to believe in something or admit that something exists

    The refusal to acknowledge existence of something: refusal to believe something or admit that something exists.

     

    I am wondering the difference between women who stand by an alcoholic husband compared to one who stands by a husband who is accused of being a pedophile.

     

    What seems to be easier to see is the alcoholic, for he comes home with the evidence written all over him, he smells like a drunk, walks like a drunk yet that woman is not condemned for standing by him.  Why?  Why is this one ok? 

     

    Now in the case of a woman whose husband is accused of being a pedophile, the only evidence is the child.  What did the child say?   More often than not, the man isn’t found with his pants down by his ankles, so the woman then has to believe the child over the man.  And the child has to be the one to speak up, to bring up this bit of information. 

     

    The man himself takes great care in covering up his evidence, he is actually a smooth operator, a con artist, a master manipulator, and we expect the woman to scout this out. 

     

    When he comes home you do not see his evidence.

     

    Instead you have to find his evidence on the children within range of him.

     

    People look at him and instead they need to look for evidence among the children.

     

    The question comes to me, more often than not, “where was your mother in all of this, what did she know, or how could she not know.”

     

    Now I am not defending her, but instead trying to sort out how it is that grown ladies seem to act so “stupid” it seems when it comes to the man they love.

     

    I am not certain what happened with my mother, it could have been a combination of many things.  One that she never experienced him as a pedophile, she never was a victim of him.  Second she never caught him in action.  Third, she had to believe a small child speaking.  Her day-to-day evidence didn’t support the allegations.

     

    When I suggested to her, that she danced with a monster whether she knew it or not, her comment was, “I don’t dance”.

     

    She couldn’t see him as a monster.  Yet in my case my body knew he was.  So I had evidence of this in my body.

     

    Do you have any idea of what the cost is to seeing someone different?  Do you know what it takes to replace a rosy picture with a nasty one?  Do you know what will be expected of you if you ‘change’ your mind?

     

    I do.

     

    My whole world flipped around, all my family lay in a discarded mess off to one side.

     

    What you are asking of these women is huge.

     

    I have no experience of living under the influence of a woman whose husband is an alcoholic, but I can tell you what happens to grow up in a family of a woman who couldn’t change her mind.

     

    Somehow I think that in the ‘old days’ it was admirable to stand by your man, and in fact doesn’t the traditional wedding vows claim, “in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad…” so a woman is made to be better if they stick around even when times get rough.

     

    What I am now beginning to understand it is much more admirable to step out, to walk away, to stop being victimized by someone who is lost behind a disease, to divorce your mind from the rosy image.

     

    What is the difference between my mother not being able to see her husband in a bad light, and a mother who refuses to see her child addicted to drugs?  They both want to keep the innocent image, to not have to deal, to not change their minds.

     

    What is it that keeps us so mentally dysfunctional when it comes to those we love?  What has us blinded so that we can’t picture them in another light?

     

    Is it more about us than it is even about that other person?  Was my mother’s story and self more at risk than anything else? What was she to lose? 

     

    What was the cost inside of her?  What would she be required to feel?  What pain would she have to endure?

     

    To live painless is to not deal, not see, not be aware of what is wrong, instead work like hell to make what is not working work.

     

    Become very good at putting on a social face of normal, while underneath the truths get pushed to the back and out of the day to day running of life.

     

    Is that denial in its application?  Isn’t that what it means  “The refusal to acknowledge existence of something: refusal to believe something or admit that something exists.”

     

    It almost seems like such a gentle word, “she was in denial” like she was lying on the couch.  Yet that one little word allowed a man to continue on doing what he did, continue to be a monster in our presents, because she failed to acknowledge the existence of a monster, she refused to believe.

     

    Each monster needs a woman in denial to operate.

    Each addict needs a woman to co-operate to work.

     

    The application of not seeing works to the benefit of the disease, to the benefit of the addiction, to the detriment of the children in the house, even to the person locked behind the addiction.

     

    You are not helping your loved one by blinking this away; instead you are helping the disease.

     

    Imagine the shock and horror each ‘caring and loving’ mother/wife would be in, if they knew that by not seeing the disease they were actually abusing the child/husband and loving the disease.

     

    Who could know that your love slips onto the disease!

     

    Just by denying the disease doesn’t make it disappear, even if you want to hold on to the image of pureness, the disease lays over the top.

     

    My mother’s biggest crime was not seeing him as a monster, period.

     

    She failed to acknowledge its existence.

     

    How many ladies are out there that fail to acknowledge the existence of alcoholism, or drug abuse, they simply want to retain the innocent image.

     

    That is their crime, or fault, they are incapable of seeing something change for the worse, to crumble and fall, they fail to see the pain in another to see one they love in a different light.

     

    My mother isn’t that unusual.  I am witnessing the application of denial and it comes in all shapes and sizes, it doesn’t discriminate, it is an equal opportunity for all.

     

    Denial is the legacy my mother gave us, and oddly enough my father told his truth.  He was the monster; she just could not see it.  He walked, talked, and breathed who he was.  He did is part well. 

     

    Who is more authentic in their case? 

     

    I can see why each of my parents did what they did.

    My father was abused as a child and he went forth and replicated what he felt love was.

    My mother was abused a child and she went forth and replicated what love was.

     

    Both were the perfect match to undo this wrong.

    Neither one could begin to unhinge the wrong.

    All it takes is one person to see.

    One person to stop this pretend dance, one person to acknowledge the existence of what is.

    It takes just one.

     

    To me they failed to see their life lesson, they failed to heal their childhood wounds.  They became ‘adult children’ of abuse; they literally failed to right a wrong that was done to them!

     

    The legacy of denial, the legacy of abuse, maybe the legacy of denying abuse exists.

     

    All it takes for evil to win, is for us to look the other way.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Rest in peace is for the Living.

    My last post was tearing apart the difference between Guilty and Innocence.

     

    It is my belief that you can only pick one of these emotions, you don’t get to be both.

     

    It is nearly impossible to feel the freedom of innocence while walking around with a half- ton weight of guilt inside.

     

    How do you rid yourself of guilt, how does it just simply disappear?

     

    My brother has this huge package that he has been dragging around since he was four. 

     

    I am urging him to let go of the package, yet his hands and mind hold on tighter or so it seems.

     

    His body is having spasms of retching trying to get rid of the feelings of guilt, to the point of no breath and blacking out because of it.

     

    How is this possible, what is the gagging trying to protect?

     

    Inside of him there seems to be this very strong will to be guilty and the desire to be free of it is just as strong.

     

    As I look back at my life, it was a daily battle it seemed to win my life back to snatch it back from the evil who controlled it for so long.

     

    This has to sound insanely insane for those of you who haven’t experience being under the influence of evil.

     

    It seems to be like a drug.

    Under the influence of evil, to be in the grips of guilt, shame and blame, to hold yourself accountable and responsible for things that are beyond your control, is simply insane.

     

    Yet to wrestle your self away from that, is like going against the magnetic pull, going against the vortex of life itself, or so it seems.

     

    To swim up the rapids with your clothes on and the weight of the world is tied to your ankles.

     

    It does leave you breathless.

     

    It seems all currents are going against you, for you can’t clearly see the currents are actually trying to propel you outward and clear of the evil pull.

     

    My brother has a clear understanding why it is that people do drugs, why they commit suicide, why it is that they themselves can’t live consumed by this energy.

     

    He and I can’t seem to find the thread of freedom for him, what will it take to thrust him free and clear of the bonds that have him prisoner in his mind?

     

    The strong hold the mind has on a body leaves me pushed back with a huge amount of respect for it, it is not a tool to deal with lightly.

     

    The mind maybe the root of all evil, not money like it has been reported.

     

    I understand that it is capable of psychic blindness, and it is capable of shielding a person’s innocence of stealing the moments of joy, of thrusting a person into states of total anxiety when nothing in the room warrants that.

     

    The mind. 

     

    Neale Donald Walsh in one of his books said, “In order to experience the Ultimate Reality you have to be out of your mind.

     

    What he doesn’t tell you nor can anyone, is how to get out of your mind.

     

    My mind was controlled by an outer world, it followed without question religions that blessed monsters, and could erase actions with simple words, it had me blind and deaf following along.

     

    What his mind seems to be doing is eclipsing reality or the good reality, it keeps looking for proof of his shame, blame and guilt.  His mind can’t search for innocence.

     

    His mind doesn’t recognize joy.  This is a foreign language to the mad mind.

     

    What breaks that  and allows the Knowing to begin to come from the Right mind?

     

    What gives?  Who has to give up and cry Uncle?

     

    It seems that each of us walk a separate and uniquely designed walk, one that will propel us into our greatness, one that leads us to the depth of hell to find it.

     

    It is said, “your darkness is your divinity.”  I wonder what that really means?

     

    I do recall being so out of control, so lost, so upside down and out of tools to help me, I was simply out of rope to reel myself back in.

     

    I think I let go.

     

    I recall feeling so helpless and hopeless, but surprised I was still alive.

     

    Surprised that when I wasn’t so in control, that life still moved on.

     

    I recall a friend whose husband had died, and she said she lay on the couch and willed herself to go ‘mental’ to just simply fall into an abyss of no longer knowing.

     

    She wanted so bad to no longer know and no longer feel and no longer be, instead a child would cry and she would have to get up and deal.

     

    Life seemed to move her along anyway.

    She wasn’t in control of losing it.

     

    I wonder if my brother would feel better knowing that he wasn’t in control of losing it or not losing it, to simply let the Universe take control.

     

    I remember feeling so vulnerable, but so free to let the Universe tell me how my story would end.

     

    All it asked of me was to do this moment.

    And this moment was all I could concentrate on.

    I couldn’t think ahead.

    I couldn’t feel ahead.

    I didn’t want to know how this would all end, the total package, I didn’t want to be that lonely.

     

    So, I just focused intently on this moment.

    Forcing all thoughts of past and future far back from my mind.

     

    I took control of my present and my mind fell back.

    I sometimes had to scream and cry and fail, but I always struggle and felt I would die trying, but I got back up on the Present.

     

    In each Present there is a gift.

     

    The gift of Now, of being ok, right now, I could not know how long I was going to be ok, but for now I was.

     

    Falling off the wagon of Now.  That is what happens over and over and over again.

     

    I simply would get up, and chase that wagon and get back on.

     

    Over time, my mind understood this was not a battle I would succumb to easily.  I simply would have gone completely and totally insane if I hadn’t had the present moment to keep me anchored.

     

    Whether you feel guilty or innocent, can you at least stand in this moment?

     

    Stand here.

     

    Breathe here.  Be here.  Even with a messy mind, can you stand here?  Don’t try to do more than just stand in this moment of time.  Just this one small moment, then the next small moment, the momentum will carry you forward.

     

    All we really are being asked is can you stand in this moment that is all. 

     

    I guess I left my guilt and my innocence up to the Universe.

    I couldn’t carry it no more.

     

    I just get to experience this moment.

    Just this one for now, all I can handle now are just little tiny pieces of life, just one little moment at a time.

     

    Come join me on this pinhead I call life.

    Where we don’t know what will happen next, what will pop up, what will shine upon us this day.

     

    Climb up and sit, we don’t care if you are guilty or innocent, we just care that you are here.

     

    The Universe and I are waiting for you.

    Will you hop up and sit awhile.

    Sit in this moment of time.

    Just this one little second called life.

     

    Let the Universe breathe for you, let it decide what comes next, all we do is wait on this moment called Now.

     

    For this moment let all your past go, let all your futures be, just take rest in this moment.

     

    Rest in Peace is for the Living.

  • I will hear you always.

    “A man convinced against his will, is of the same opinion still.”  Albert Einstein

     

    My brother and I have been trying to sort out the ramifications of feeling responsible for childhood abuse.

     

    It seems that somehow the child walks away guilty.

     

    I had to look up the word guilt.

     

    Adjective, guilt

    Having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law; justly subject to a certain accusation or penalty; culpable: The jury found her guilty of murder.

    Characterized by, connected with, or involving guilt:  guilty intent.

    Having or showing a sense of guilt, whether real or imagined: a guilty conscience.

     

    Okay, now I had to go and look up innocence.

    1.    The state, quality, or virtue of being innocent, as:

    a.    Freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of evil.

    b.    Guiltlessness of a specific legal crime or offense.

    c.    Freedom from guile, cunning, or deceit; simplicity or artlessness.

    d.    Lack of worldliness or sophistication; naiveté.

    e.    Lack of knowledge or understanding; ignorance.

    f.   Freedom from harmfulness; inoffensiveness.

    2.    One that is innocent

     

    What caught me is the meaning of Innocence, the state, quality or virtue of being innocent, as: Freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through the lack of knowledge of evil.

     

    In reading that, I now know how a child walks away guilty, he or she now know the meaning of moral wrong, sin, and knowledge of evil.

     

    We know things no child is ready to know.

    Innocence then is NOT KNOWING that!

     

    Since we now know the meaning of sin, of moral wrong doing, and felt evil, know evil, we then believe because we know of it, we then too are guilty of it.

     

    We then feel to be equal partners with the morally wrong adult.

    And the meaning of guilt is ‘Having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law.’

     

    So we walk away feeling guilty because we did commit an offense.  We are no longer innocents, because we now have knowledge, experience and feelings of what evil is.

     

    We walked in innocent, and were taught, and shown and experienced moral wrong behavior. 

     

    Deep within us we feel guilty for doing a moral wrong.  Our innocence our lack of understanding is gone.

     

    We have been introduced to evil, and somehow feel that, for we can no longer feel innocent.

     

    Is there a way to get that back? Can we go back to before our abuse; can we get back a clean slate?

     

    In my case, no.

     

    I will never be a girl that wasn’t abused.  I will never get back my innocence, I will always and forever be a girl who was abused, that is my childhood.

     

    Yet somehow I understand that my innocence was STOLEN, I didn’t just give it away, it was taken from me.  I was changed forever in that moment, but that isn’t who I am.

     

    I am not my abuse.  My innocence is in understanding all of me, all of my past, and knowing that there wasn’t anything I could have done to prevent that?  I had no prior knowledge of evil, it came to me, I wasn’t the one to stage this, it happened to me.

     

    My brother is struggling with these two threads….

     

    The guilty thread has run his life for 46 years, exactly as long as mine did.  He cannot seem to reach and hold on to the innocent one, to see himself as a victim, a little boy with out the prior knowledge of evil before my Uncle introduced him to it.

     

    He can’t remember his innocence; all he knows is the knowledge of evil.

    Imagine a child not knowing innocence? Imagine a man filled with guilt over losing something that was stolen?  Imagine a man not able to stand in his own innocence, instead is harassed by a fictional tale of his guilt.

     

    I too had a fictional story, a one with a loving father.  I had to re-write my tale; I had to search for my innocence too. I had to go back to my little girl and release her from her guilt.

     

    I had to go back as a big assed woman and show her the lay of the land, to show her, her part.  Her part? She brought love, trust and faith, and it was stolen away and replaced with shame, blame and guilt and knowledge of evil, her body knew.

     

    How do I convince my brother, he at 4 is not responsible, that little boys don’t arrive on this planet filled with shame, blame and guilt!

     

    They don’t come here knowing of evil, evil is shown to them.

     

    How do you convince a grown man, that evil is not who he is.

     

    More importantly how do you show him what innocence is?

    How do you tell him, that he and he alone has walked far too long in shoes that are not his to wear. How do you convince him that every thing he has ever known is wrong?  How do you show him how to wear the cloak of white, when for so long he has felt it isn’t his to wear?

     

    I see him as a little boy who was injured and one who can’t accept this was an action against him, not from him. 

     

    Imagine how hard it would be to live as evil inside, that that is all you have ever known.

     

    Too little to remember innocence, Too little to remember who he really is,Too little.

     

    He is forever feeling like he will be found out.

    Found out he is what?

     

    It seems he is waiting for the ‘outside,’ us folks to find out that inside it is really true…..but no one out here sees him as he sees himself.

    He sees himself differently than we do.  Why?

     

    Our self- image truly comes from the inside.  Something inside of him has him convinced and is stronger than the voices outside.

     

    We can’t convince him he is innocent.  That is up to him to discover, maybe instead he should find the ways he is guilty.

     

    I want to know them, show me the evidence.

     

    Show me the money!

     

    Tell me what you knew, tell me your plan, show me where you learned this from….You tell me how you were able to get a grown man to take off his pants at 4 years old, tell me!

     

    Maybe your gagging and anxiety is because you have had it all wrong, maybe you are anxious to be held accountable for something you had no control over?

     

    What did you control?  What?

     

    Maybe if you realize that you are not in control, that it isn’t you that is running this show, maybe just maybe you will find you are innocent. 

     

    Your mind has you convinced he does.  Your mind has you out there in a pretend future, and a pretend past.

     

    Martha beck is wrong….”Forgiveness is knowing your past can change, It has to change if you remember it all wrong.”

     

    Forgive your mental mind for drawing the wrong conclusion, that when you had knowledge of evil, it didn’t make you evil, it made you one who knew evil.

     

    I am sorry the Uncle you trusted, had faith in, taught you evil, he gave you knowledge of evil.  He eclipsed the little innocent boy and put the knowledge of evil in its place.

     

    It is up to you now to replace that image of that little boy.

    In your mind you have his image as evil.

    In your mind your Uncle is innocent.

    One of you is lying?

    Tell me who?

     

    You only get one choice Is he guilty or are you?

     

    Pick one.

     

    Say it aloud to yourself.

     

    I will hear you always.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Nature showed me how.

     

    Below is a segment of a chapter in the book Awakening Intuition by Dr. Mona Lisa Schulz.

     

    “What is the essence of nurturance?  We might find it in a certain South African Fish.  The male fish is the social organizer; he plays the role in the outer world.  When a predator appears, he calls the alarm.  The female fish then opens her mouth and all the babies swim in to be sheltered where it’s safe and warm.  When the danger has passed, the male gives the all-clear, the mother opens her mouth and all the baby fish swim back out into the open water, to continue to grow in independence and autonomy.  This is the kind of warm, rosy image of motherhood most of us cherish, the mother protecting her babies against the dangers of the world, yet letting them frolic and develop on their own when safety permits.  Curiously, though, every once in awhile, one of these fish apparently has a problem with the motherhood role.  When the father calls the alarm, she won’t open her mouth to let the babies in.  They either escape on their own or get eaten by predators.  Conversely, there is on occasion a mother who’ll take the babies in when the alarm sounds, but when she gets the all-clear, she won’t open her mouth to let the babies out, and they smother inside of her.

     

    The magnitude of difference, between a healthy and balanced mom, one who knows when safety is required and one who also knows when to allow the child to go free to develop its independence, and one who is unnatural and dysfunctional, is so wide and vast, with lasting lifelong affects to the child.

     

    If only we were just affected as a child.

     

    Instead when grown in such an unnatural environment we become that, unnatural.  And live an unnatural life, and in my case 46 years of being unnatural.

     

    Living in a world with your head on backwards.

     

    Your thoughts, beliefs, values and morals are all held firmly in place with an unnatural mind.

     

    My mind wasn’t right with reality.

     

    What I now know today, is that my parent’s influence was far reaching and changed who I would become.

     

    I became an odd cartoon figure in their mad play.

    Through conditional love they molded me into this person.

    It had nothing to do with the spirit of me.

     

    Dr. Phil speaks of how parent’s actions write on the tablets of who their children will become, and he is so right.

     

    Children are not raised in a special place outside of the environment of your home.  No, instead they are literally being built by what is going on in your home.

     

    I became what was needed in our home, I became what he needed, what she needed, but I never had the space or the choice to just be me.

     

    It is unbelievable that the environment can override natural tendencies that we can literally learn and grow up being unnatural.

     

    My unnatural state served their needs, but had little to do with mine.  As long as I mirrored their unnaturalness I was part of the team, but that team has no room for natural state of being, of seeing reality in it’s true view.

     

    Their mad play has no lines for me now.

     

    I can still recall the day I was writing an email to my brother about how that childhood play no longer works for me, how those old scripts I will not utter again, how I walked off that stage and onto my own.

     

    Their play hasn’t ended, my absence did not stop production, in fact I think my sister quickly filled my old shoes, but I feel that for the first time I am a star on my own stage.

     

    Isn’t that what all children should feel?

    That they are the main player on their stage called life.

    That it isn’t their job to be the supporting actor, to make another’s play work.

     

    Imagine my whole life up until I was 46 I was a supporting actor in my parents play.  I did barely anything without their approval or a thought of how it would affect them.

     

    I was so totally linked in chains to the stage of their life.

     

    We hear of co-dependency but how about putting our kids in chains to make our life work? Isn’t that being dependent upon our children? 

     

    Take it from one who busted the chains, we know we are no longer supporting you, and are even fearful for going against your play, but know it is the only way we can survive.

     

    My mother and father expected me to continue to support their cause until death do us a part and beyond. 

     

    Society doesn’t look kindly upon children who go against parents, but fails to see the side of the child.  What has the child done, what life has the child had?

     

    Autonomy isn’t to be a supporting actor, independence isn’t found spewing lines the other wants to hear, instead of your own.

     

    And what society fails to support are the children who want to get off the stage.

     

    Instead they want us to try and fit back in with our new scripts and new ways of seeing.  Like that would work?

     

    If I can’t call him dad and treat him like a dad, do you really think my new voice will be welcomed on that stage?

     

    Our voices are drowned out with jeers and sneers, we are made to be the bad man, the one who isn’t loving, forgiving, this or that.

     

    Again, we are set back out in the open sea, alone.

     

    This time though, we are in the sea of normal.

     

    We are learning the ropes of normal, learning what lines we want as our own, learning what steps we want to take, we are free, the designers and choreographers of our own stage.

     

    We are born again we get another chance to live life normally!

    I can also recall feeling like being a baby in those one piece pajamas and looking around knowing I was also the mom.

     

    Like I could be a mom when I felt like such a baby, so naïve and childlike, I was to be running a house, and cooking meals, let alone dealing with a family deeply entrenched in dysfunction, to walking out in public with him on the front page, like oh my God, this is soooo not going to work, that I was put in charge of my own four kids, someone will certainly see the baby inside of me, that I am an imposter and not an adult at all.

     

    It was freaky thinking I was to be in charge when I felt so out of control and helpless, I wanted so badly to be just a baby, to be held and comforted, to be taken care of, to just lay on a blanket and coo.

     

    What I had to do was embrace that child and be an adult at the same time, the balance of not being one or the other, but instead nurture both.

     

    I did what the mother fish was supposed to do for me I mothered myself!

    Nature showed me how.