I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Road Less Traveled.

    Mother's Day appears to be a harmless holiday; but it can stir up conflicting emotions and pull you backwards when the relationship between mother and child is strained or broken.

    How can there be a Mother's day without you reflecting upon your mother?

    And seeing in the reflection, how unseen you are.

    It brings up empty feelings.

    An applicable card may read, "See your self and self-worth on this Mother's Day" or "You are strong to have broken your mother's pattern."

    Instead on Mother's Day, there are loving tributes to Mothers. 

    And, even worse, those that state, "There are no perfect mothers but, perfect moments."  Which I take to mean, we over look and look around the 'not so perfect moments'.  And, our ability to NOT do so, finds US lacking….not her.

    Then, there is me being a mom.

    And, my imprint I have had on my children's earlier years and how my choices and patterns affected my kids.  Am I worthy of being celebrated?  

    I have to believe we celebrate the new mother I became…and not the one in denial.

    Who would celebrate her…for in her denial she caused much harm.

    Mother's Day is multifaceted when you have left your family of origin.

    The victories of self, are tangled up with negative grief like emotions.

    I experience more than just one emotion on family celebration days.

    I am proud of the mother I am….and feel sorrow for who she once was.

    I feel the affects of being estranged and feel my courage for being able to free myself.

    I honor all the feelings that flow with Mother's Day; there isn't just one simple feeling.

    I feel my legacy as a journey of being authentic and standing strong with my feelings and truth.

    And, I feel the cost or toll it has taken.

    It is like the whole spectrum of color and feelings collide on this day.

    A day of Celebration and Grief.

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    I was on the lawn mower and a flower delivery guy came and brought me flowers from my daughter! I felt a choked up knowing the cost of being my child…and yet thrilled to feel her love!

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    On this Mother's Day…feel love, feel sorrow, feel the estrangement, feel the connection of new patterned love and freedom to be you…. awake outside of denial.

    A thought occurred to me while mowing…that an awake mother feels so much.  I feel the darkest of emotions and yet feel the joys of love and connection.

    Not certain if awake is the right term; but perhaps strong…or determined.

    Somehow I became aware that my old pattern was leading my children into a pattern of dysfunction.  And, in order for them to see something different, I had to be different. 

    Today, I celebrate the mothers who dared to be different!  Regardless of their personal cost they took the road less traveled…

     

     

  • Wholeheartedly Themselves

     

    Here is me talking at my I M Perfect Workshop at Michigan Tech.  

    It's hard to look at objectively.  Yet it is the imperfections that make it perfect.

    After watching Janet Mock, speak on Soul Series, I came away with how we present ourselves to the world.

    How do we clearly articulate the totality of our journey…or what parts do we omit due to their contents?

    What I am trying to present is that the imperfections of my life are actually the truth of it and it is okay to present IT all.

    Oddly, in society, we tend to only present the parts of ourselves that society accepts.

    And, isn't it odd, that society, as a rule, only wants to celebrate the positives.  But, it is the negatives that shape who we are…or it is in HIDING, the negatives that has us limping along while trying to not show it.

    Perhaps I get a pass, in not being too polished, for it is my scars and pain that I speak about.  I am not perfect when measured by society's ruler.

    How many of us are?

    And further, how many of us struggle to reach a state of perfection that is impossible to reach….and then feel ourselves lacking because of it.

    Imagine a world where we all see our scars and beautiful truth markers…and feel our strength and courage from having lived such a colorful and rich life of diverse experiences?

    Being proud of our battle scars and our ability to not let them define us.

    I feel there is a movement, a stirring within so many…to embrace and expose their inner truths.  To even expect society to rebuff our truths and imperfections.  The movement of being authentic instead of perfect.

    Or perfectly authentic.

    I am proud to be marching ahead while many in society rebuff my presentation…for what they are truly rebuffing is the whole truth of who I am.  And, I believe, rebuffing due to their own lack of self acceptance.

    In the past, it was me that was in denial, me who rebuffed my feelings, and the truth buried deep within.

    Those who cheer me on are thee authentic, or those striving to be wholeheartedly themselves.

     

     

  • A Thumbnail of my journey…

     

    I now have one of my public speaking moments on You Tube.  It was taken on a cell phone, so of course the quality isn't up to par, but the message still holds.  This was in the summer of 2012.

    As I drifted off to sleep last night, I wondered to whom this speech would be helpful to or who would benefit or be inspired.  

    It hit me….family.

    That's who needs to hear about a pedophile in their midst are family members; the ones whose lives and their children's lives are at risk.  And, yet these are the same members who don't want to hear about it.

    Speaking about my father to a room full of strangers who don't have any contact with him isn't helpful. But, if the family would have heard me, its impact would have left large ripple affects.

    When any victim of incest speaks out; the ones to benefit the most are those closest to them.

    For all the statistic show that 90% of sexual abuse will be with someone you know, and of that, 50% with family.  My public speaking isn't for the general public, but for those connected to me, my siblings and my parents.  However, no family ever attends my speeches.

    It is for those who are close enough to be infected by either the abuse or the denial.

    This was my first speech….in public.  Yet, I have spoken about sexual abuse in much more  detail….one on one.  I have spent hours and hours trying to find a way to get family to hear. (whether in the spoken word or in writing here on the blog) 

    It doesn't appear to matter how good the venue is, or how articulate the words, or whether I am barely contained in anger and rage, or speaking from concern….it all falls upon the deaf ears of family.

    What I mean by this, is that they have refused to give up on our family; no matter what.  They have chosen to keep me at a distance in order to save any familiar shreds of family.  

    I for one, know how life changing it is to really bring in the totality of your sexual abuse.  Especially to see your family in its horrific reality. I know the cost of hearing me.

    My speaking engagements are no longer for my family to hear; but for those like I, who are estranged.  To give hope that there is life and love, outside of the dysfunctional homes…and relationships.  AND, to show the actual growth in fabric of your self-esteem and awareness and Self Love!  

    I speak as a victim.  For I am.

    But, I also speak as one who has found her power.

    Which makes me no longer an active victim…if you will.

    What I love about this speech is that the conception of WIND was just beginning…and here we are 2 1/2 years later going strong.  WIND is what I imagined…and beyond.  

    It isn't so much my speech, but my life and all the walking it took to bring me to that podium.  The speech is just a thumbnail of my journey…

    (coming soon to You Tube…I M Perfect Workshop)

     

     

     

  • When I followed my Truth.

    I was asked if I had a mental breakdown.  I said yes…and then No.  Not so much a mental breakdown, but that I saw the truth.  And, once I saw, I couldn't not see.  I was now incapable of wearing denial.

    What is a mental breakdown and what really breaks down?

    How is our mind broken?

    Is it the inability to think?

    Or, the inability to think like we used to think?

    I went to look up the definition of "Mental Breakdown".

    "Mental breakdown (also known as a nervous breakdown) is a colloquial term for an acute, time-limited psychiatric disorder that manifests primarily as severe stress-induced depression, anxiety or dissociation in a previously functional individual, to the extent that they are no longer able to function on a day-to-day…"

    "…manifests primarily as severe stress induced…"

    I have to wonder what is stressed?

    I didn't get a clinical diagnosis, but I can say that my mind was completely blown.

    I was able to function on a day-to-day…or hour-to-hour basis, but I didn't respond as I used to.  

    I now had a new set of files that I had to incorporate into my world; labels to be attached to me.

    I had previously said, that I was stripped of my labels, for they all fell down as false, but I wasn't truly naked.  I was now wearing labels of horrific consequences when fully brought in by the mind.

    And, my mind did.

    Tossing aside the labels of what I thought I knew, to those in the truth…was a feat my mind could barely hold.

    A whole new vernacular was given to me overnight.

    The image I held in my mind about my family, my childhood, my parents and who I was, changed overnight.

    Pedophile, sexual assault, incest, childhood trauma, dysfunctional, victim, detectives, victim statements….to name a few.

    The juxtaposition of what I thought I knew, and what was reality, was such a wide gap, it wasn't easily traversed.  Or traveled in a way that you couldn't tell a major mind shift had happened.

    What does still boggle my mind, is how others were able to bring in new labels that were a far cry from the old and continue on unchanged.

    These new labels stopped my life cold.

    They broke my stride and how I saw myself.

    This major shift in perception into the truth left me unable to act as I had previously.

    My ability to deny the truth no longer worked.

    Is that a mental breakdown?

    When you can no longer mentally process and integrate new information without IT affecting the flow of life?

    To me, and I am not a certified mental health care person, is that the ability to see the truth/reality is healthy.  And, the inability to do so, is to have a mentality that is broken.

    I actually felt strong while being completely devastated.

    To clearly see, is a gift and a curse.

    Is it a strong mental mind, to be able to deny or change your perception of someone or something?  Wouldn't that be considered the handicap…when your mind is not capable of a new thought or to bring in new information/perceptions?

    What I didn't know, was how sick I was, until I saw the truth.

    How I was able to function day-to-day without having access to reality or truths.

    And, the cost of having a mind strong enough to shield me from the truth, allowed me to participate in the ring of sexual abuse.  In denying who my father was, had me treating him like a father and not a pedophile.  

    Imagine how strong, for the lack of a better word, the mind is, that it can literally block the truth or reality out. Where its illusions are more real than reality.

    So, did I have a mental breakdown.  I feel, I became un-handicapped.

    I was no longer in the dark about the truth.

    I could see.

    It was startling, shocking, terrifyingly horrific…and incredibly freeing.

    Armed with the truth, I was able to navigate my way free from dysfunction.

    Having a mind that sees reality makes it impossible to be with folks who can't.  We just don't mix well at all.  And, ironically, my family would label me mental.  Nuts, and certifiably insane.  And, to them I am.  It would seem insane to the mind of denial to see. 

    The leap, or the fall, from the mind into reality is often brutal.

    You leave the cozy comfort of un-reality.

    It can be paralyzing not to know what is truth and what is fiction.

    How mentally strong are you?

    Can you see the truth of your own life?

    Breaking into reality can be a huge culture shock.  For, in denial I had built up a whole big life.  And, now it was based upon nothing.  When the labels fell, my whole life was in danger of falling to.  And, most of it did.

    I had to re-build while alive, integrating into my foundation…the new labels.

    It completely changed who I thought I was and oddly my new soiled labels created a perfect me.  I now matched in my head, how my body felt.

    It is interesting to think about how many of us are really in reality and how many of us deny the harsher realities our hearts can't hold.  What I know…is that those asleep in denial are there due to some horrific event.  We don't flee reality…we are forced out of it, in order to survive.

    Survive a traumatic event our mind failed to record…with truth.

    The truth, when I saw it at 46, was so powerful and horrific, there is no way a child could have lived knowing this. When the very folks who were supposed to care for the child, were the ones abusing it.  To knowingly live with a pedophile and his wife.

    And, being shunned as I am now, and made to believe I am the one who is nuts….this same treatment would have been given upon me as a child…back then.

    It is no wonder that the mind doesn't allow us to see the truth; it is protecting us and keeping us with those who 'shelter' us.

    I could not have made it on my own at 6 or 7 years old.

    I barely made it on my own at 46. 

    I had to leave everything behind…when I followed my truth.

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  • Art of Being Me

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    It came to me, that if I am going to do a workshop on Art Therapy, I should look up the definition of therapy….

    "Treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder."

    and then, decided to check out "Art Therapy".

    "a form of psychotherapy involving the encouragement of free self-expression through painting, drawing, or modeling…"

    I love "the encouragement of free self-expression".

    As I have been toying with ideas that I could speak about, I have backed up a bit and really seen what Art and I have done together.

    When I was stripped of all my labels that defined me, I was terrified and horrified to be in the world and not know who I was….and completely liberated.

    The only place I felt free to be no one was with Art.

    Art didn't care about my past or my future…it needed me here now.

    Art had no expectations of me, no judgements or critical looks.  Art and I were able to play together no matter who I didn't know myself to be.  Art was always there in complete and total acceptance of Me.

    Art gently invited me forward.

    Encouraged self-expression.

    Art has no religious preference.

    Art doesn't care if your male or female, young or old, rich or poor, confused or clear headed.  It simply allows you to express yourself.

    The process of choosing color and design engages our feelings in a safe way.

    Leaning towards excitement and happiness….or striving for the depth and solemness when its needed.

    Often I would just arrive, just as I am, and would be amazed at my self expression upon the completion of my work.

    Freedom of self expression was critical for my self awareness.  I had come from a religion that did not foster this.  Nor do families where there are secrets entangled in  with our upbringing.  

    At 46, I was learning through Art how to express my Self.  How to literally get in touch with my Self.

    And playing with Art allowed me to explore her alone…yet not alone.

    It felt like the Universe and I were playing together with art….just art.

    But, in actuality Art was leading me in a dance of self discovery, using me to find me.  It was like going into a workshop to create art and to find out the Art was me.

    I entered into the workshop feeling imperfect, wounded and without knowing who I was and over time emerged a perfect work of art.

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    The contrast and evolution of my art astounds me.  How wonderful to have this gauge in fabric to see me grow.

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    Art doesn't need you to know you, it plays with the part of yourself that is beyond the labels of you.

    I don't believe the labels are secure on me anymore, more loosely fitted and flapping in the breeze.  Yet, I feel a great knowing of the self beneath.

    I can't wait for my workshop; I M Perfect…the art of being Me. 

    (April 9th at 6pm, at Michigan Tech's MUB, Ballroom B)

  • Against Family.

    I am an Activist.  

    I had to go and look up its meaning to see if we matched. 

    "An activist is a person who campaigns for some kind of social change."

    I also checked on what they mean by Social Change.

    "Social change refers to any significant alteration over time in behavior patterns and cultural values and norms."

    Yep, I am an activist.

    Oddly, I would not have used this label for me, but it totally fits.

    My campaign, if you will, is for victims of abuse to return to full power…and for the family dynamics to be challenged and questioned if all members don't have equal rights.

    The only way we can end these cycles of abuse, is to break the cycle.

    To end the patterns of behavior that we were raised in.

    To shatter the family's traditions that have served thee abusers.  

    For, statistic show that 90% of abuse happens with someone we know…and 50% within the family.

    We have to look closely at those we call family…and their friends.

    We have to scrutinize the rules and traditions of our religions and see how they work remarkably well for abusers and leave victims untreated, unseen and unheard.

    My campaign would flip this totally around.  

    Where the children are seen and heard and empowered…valued, honored and respected.

    Doesn't that line seem insane?

    Like who wouldn't value, honor and respect a child?  

    Isn't it incredible that we as a society have overlooked and looked around the lives inside of families.  We have neglected and disrespected their privacy.  Keeping our eyes away from their 'family' business…and allowing all manner of abuse to be okay as long as it is disguised as 'family'.

    This frontier that is closer to you than any other part of your life, is the one place we don't fully explore or challenge.  Family is and has always been out of bounds.

    It is the one thing we are not allowed to challenge…or stand against.

    You are either with us or against us.

    We take our cues from the adults in our world; never striking out on our own to investigate the origins of why we do what we do.  We wouldn't dare go against the family's legacy of being a family.

    To challenge a family is unheard of.

    It is to be a non-family family member.

    Family is family no matter what.

    We don't dis family.

    We don't tear a family apart due to some abuse issues.

    We rally and stick closer together when abuse walks in.

    Even if abuse wears the label father…you don't wreck a family over that.

    My campaign is to tear apart families that are not families…

    To allow children (adult children) to break free and to end the cycles of abuse on their limb of the family tree.

    Abuse will not end unless and until we destroy abusive Families.

    Allowing the family to stay labeled as family when abuse is happening is what keeps it going for generation upon generation.

    We are smarter than this.

    We can no longer turn a blind eye to the statistics and ignore the 90% of where abuse lives.

    It lives in families.

    In our Aunts and Uncles.

    Our grandfathers…and grandmothers.

    With their friends.

    It is so close; we can't see the forrest for the trees….

    Pedophiles are held tight within the family circle.

    Supported by those in silence.

    And, by those who don't want to let the family die.

    Yet, the family is already dead.

    It has been replaced by a well run abuse machine.

    How can you tell if you are within a family or part of an abusive crime circle?

    Are the children seen, heard and respected?

    Do they have a voice and a choice?

    Are they free to make their own decisions….do they own their bodies?

    Or, are they held captive by those who have control over their lives?

    Doesn't it seem incredibly insane that these criminal circles of sexual abuse and physical abuse grow their own victims?

    And, they call it 'family'.

    And, within the circle are those who know; but stay silent.

    Silent for the sake of family.

    How successful will my campaign be….as I go against family.

    (But, I just realized I am an activist for children…the silent many who suffer in the family circle.)

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  • Its Children

    Knowing that speaking out in offense of religion was going to bring with it many in defense.  Even if they don't write and bravely dispute me, I know they silently turn away in disgust from me.

    Perhaps what I have more trouble with isn't so much what religion does is what it doesn't do.

    You would think that an institution that prides itself on high morals and values would be the first to stand against abusers. Be the first to rush the police stations with knowledge of abusers.  I have not bump into any of them in the past 10 years that I have spoken out.  I have not had them message me or email me or call me or volunteer their pulpits to share words of wisdom.

    Silence.

    Silent with me.

    Silent with the detective I am connected to. (I sent an email just to make sure I am not misspeaking here…and I will report back if there is a church and pastor that has gone under my radar and is out there speaking against abuse.)

    I have spoken to people of many faiths…and they have shared how neglected this is within their churches.

    I am not just speaking of MY experience, but of many similar experiences to mine.

    I am sharing and voicing from those who have spoken to me.

    Victims…the abused.  

    In their confusion as they try and right themselves are flabbergasted that the church and its followers are so silent and unmoving.

    Like a huge meme that can only speak 'good' of the church and never questions the inactivity against abuse.

    What would it cost each person who sits in the pews and has a GREAT faith in its teachings to question it?  Would that diminish your 'faith' in your religion?

    Is it really your religion and its contents that hangs in the balance?

    Your ticket to heaven…your clan and group and fellowship?

    Does it have more to do with that, than the child who is without a voice?

    Who is in the pews next to you…watching you silently.

    Silent for he, like I know you will defend your religion BEFORE standing against it…even when we tell you abuse lives there.  

    Some will want to hold the Faith and Religion high above in pristine untouchable condition….more so than helping a child in need.

    I know you all don't mean to do this.

    But, you do inadvertently.

    Religion isn't separated from the people anymore than abuse is separated from the abusers.  

    Your faith isn't separated from you. It is you.

    I get that.

    How can we then have a conversation about this when there is no distinction between you and your religion.  

    In your diligence to defend your religion, the failure to be able to see its cracks where abuse lives, IS what keeps abuse cycles going for generations.

    I have spoken to various generations of adult children whose family's legacy has continued on for 4 generations AND they all are deeply nestled into the church and its teachings and its 'values'.

    I am not just spouting off. 

    I am perplexed and puzzled by lack of movement from Within the church. While I on the outside appear to care more for its children.

     

  • Wordless works of Art

    My mind was stirred up and I couldn't grasp a thread to formulate my thoughts against the onslaught of religious words in the book Hush.  It felt like there were multiple languages speaking languages that I didn't speak.  A gibberish of sounds; but the message was that I had to do something in order to be someone.

    And until then, I was an empty painful container.

    However, what is so painfully obvious to me, is that her idea of who I am and who I Feel I am are two completely different things.

    What I am learning as I sat with the contents of the book and the contents of me, is that when the book and my reality are at odds… believe my reality and/or experience of me!

    I disagree that the only way to wholeness is via religions…for I am without one and I feel whole.

    My way forward was to seek love, peace and joy.  And in doing so, I turned away from things that didn't embody these sentiments…for me. 

    I didn't need a map from someone else idea of what held these energies.

    I sought them out by how I felt.

    Being truthful about my feelings led me forward.

    I didn't need to do what she and many religions speak of…I used my body and soul.

    The way she describes God and his needs are so similar to the needs in many abusive homes…in a codependent way.

    My experience of the Universe or nature is free…it doesn't need the gibberish to know what to do. Wordlessly and without any prompting or direction it does what it was born/planted to do.

    I love that.

    And the most imperfect things in nature are the most artful.

    Why then is there an idea of us all matching and following one path?

    We are all humans.

    We all have our own life stories and truths.

    Which have left their imprints upon us.

    Some of us are so layered in lies, we don't know who we are…until we start living our truths…and bit by bit we unveil our natural self.

    I feel honored to be me and feel I have gained such wisdom while uncovering me.

    And, this all again was done outside of the constraints of religion.  In fact, for me….religion would have stopped me from being Me.

    By its demand that I find peace, love and joy….outside of me.

    I didn't feel like I met the author of Hush; but rather the religion that stood before her.

    I am without a religious filter.  You see me as I am…there is nothing between me and you.

    My filterless view of the world….tries to see behind the gibberish of words…to You.

    Is there a you behind your religion?

    What do you look like?

    How do you feel and be and love?

    Show me you!

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    My Lady and I…wordless works of Art.

     

     

  • What are others hearing you say?

    I feel more inspired by "The Stitch" than I did with the book "Hush".  

    I ordered 5 Kits  - Speak your silence

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    "Speak Your Silence is a nonprofit on a mission to conquer the stigma of child sexual abuse via #The Stitch, which symbolizes your voice frequency.  Profits fund one on one counseling nationwide for those personally affected."

    It is a simple concept that accepts Your voice, Your story and inspires You to speak what You have kept silent.

    They are not telling you anything, but accepting everything.

    They are not trying to direct you into a narrow space with requirements, but is wide open and spacious; accepting you as you are.

    I feel inspired to be part of this.

    Its potential excites me.

    The Stitch understands the power of speaking what you have kept silent…knowing the real you is right behind your voice.

    This is easy for me to apply and will now recognize others who wear The Stitch.

    I will begin adding this symbol near the signature on my quilts.

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    And feel proud that I am a member of this fraternity.  

    For I recall in the first few months after discovering my own abuse…how heavy the burden felt, to be part of the club, of the sexually abused. The weight of it seemed to drown me out.  Little did I know, it was the beginning of the road to self discovery.

    And each time I spoke of it, the stronger I grew…inside.

    What was once a strange voice with strange words…is now very familiar; it's Me.

    All of me.

    The Me that lived behind the silence.

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    I love my voice.

    I love what it has to say.

    I am not sure there is anything more powerful than using your voice and speaking your truth.

    It truly sets you free.

    The you that is hidden behind the silence.

    My imperfections are now perfectly Me.

    Each time another one of us speaks their silence, we open up the space wider…sending out courage energy that inspires another.

    The Stitch is a Zig Zag, symbolic of your voice frequency…what does yours look like?

    What are others hearing you say?

    By wearing the orange zig zag stitch, you help conquer the stigma of child sexual abuse and support your loved ones in sharing their stories!

     

     

  • Gambling with reality.

    "She had a fantasy, that no reality could compete with," was a line in book I was listening to.

    In the story, the woman had created a husband; a perfect husband and was incapable of bringing into reality who he really was compared to what her mind had painted.  He had passed away 6 years ago, and at the time of his death there were secrets she didn't know.  

    And, she LOVED her version of him; regardless of reality.

    If she brought in reality, it would change how much she loved him.  

    He would become a stranger; and unlovable.

    How common is this fantasizing and then blaming reality when you have been duped.

    Isn't this denial?

    How hard is it to let go of perfect for the imperfection of reality?

    What mostly crashed in my world 10 years ago was the fantasy I had; my vision of my family…minus reality.

    Many see me as mental now; while they cling to their fantasies.

    While they continue to forge relationships with the unreal.

    That if you pretend to pretend to pretend enough…your fantasy will override reality's imperfections.

    I marvel at the minds ability to take the least amount of information and weave the most plausible story… as Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor says.

    Not only create a story, but to believe in it wholeheartedly AND then LOVE it.

    Love the story in the mind…over reality.

    Leaving reality and its sharp contrast and relentless attention to details, completely untouched.

    It has boggled my mind to watch this in action.

    It doesn't matter how big a stretch it is between reality and fantasy, fantasy will win IN THEIR MINDS.

    To lay them down on paper side by each, they would be polar opposites and yet they will go with the mind.

    Unflinching.

    Unseeing.

    Blind.

    Blind to what is.

    Denial.

    "The action of declaring something to be untrue."

    How do you declare something untrue?  

    Is it by saying the opposite?  

    Or just not speaking the truth.

    Can you save your fantasy by omitting the truth?

    I had to look up fantasy.

    "the faculty or activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable."

    It isn't to just dream a fancy dream; but to dream the impossible or improbable.

    Do you know what improbable is?

    "not likely to be true or to happen."

    Its synonyms are "unconvincing, unbelievable, incredible, ridiculous, absurd, preposterous, outrageous…."

    "Since improbable means something is unlikely but not impossible, your optimism allows you to keep hoping."

    The fantasy is betting your whole life upon something that is unlikely to happen.

    Living and holding out for the less than 1% chance it could be true….while the other 99% is ignored.

    Remaining optimistic against all odds. 

    That is where my family of origin resides.

    Waiting on the improbable.

    I wonder if reality can only come in when you give up all hope.

    When you let go of 'it's possible'.

    When you realize that Hell will never freeze over…

    It is the slimmest of margins that keeps folks in denial.

    Imagine, the only thing holding you in denial is the smallest of chances that the improbable WILL happen.

    You are gambler who bets only on the worst odds.

    And, you gamble with your life….

    Your happiness,

    Your love,

    Your joy,

    Your peace and

    Your self on the worst; in hopes they will someday change…or your fantasy will match reality someday.

    Gambling with reality.

    (And, reality wins only 100% of the time….Byron Katie)