I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Back to Me.

    ‎"The path spirals and takes time – it will take us a year – but it is comforting and nurturing. It can also be undertaken only one day at a time. Don't be afraid. We are not alone. Like pioneers on the trail, we will learn to live by our own lights and the stars of heaven, for that is all we need. There is no obstacle that true grit and Amazing Grace cannot overcome." Sarah B

    What I have discovered is the path towards healing from sexual abuse is quite long…it is actually as long as it is equal to the distance of living your own truth.

    I was way off the mark, a long way from center.  My whole perception of the world and self was skewed.

    And, the journey was taken by me and Amazing Grace.  Together, the right and perfect orchestration arose for me to see that which I hadn't seen. An unconscious part of me.  Or, I was put back into the perfect situation to express that which I hadn't expressed or felt.

    If you truly desire to change the direction of your path, you will be assisted by the whole power of the Universe.  

    I had books that would simply be set out in the library, that would answer a question that was plaguing me, I would cross paths with a person that shared with me their experience, events would arise and I would hear another person's story that echoed mine…all orchestrated for me.

    There were no mistakes in my past and none in my present…all represent who I am today.  Most challenges, while grueling, were to give back to me a part of me that was lost.  A part of me that was under the influence of others or things.  

    The path to self awareness or self empowerment, will be a slide show in real time…bringing up all the parts of your self that are not free.

    We think to our selves, that it would be a lofty spiritual goal to want enlightenment or to be fully aware….only to find out all the places we ARE NOT.

    It isn't for the faint of heart.  It will absolutely take true grit to get you to win back to your self the parts that you gave away out of survival or to be liked or to be loved.

    I began with very little that was solely me.  Most of me was tangle into lives and things and far out of my control. And, when I took me back, my world rattled.

    Most were not used to me being so self centered.  So intent on living life from my inside out…

    My truths were hard to hear and survive for others…as well as for me.

    But, I would have simply died…to have lost one more speck of me. And, once I knew that what I called myself, was actually a composition of what you all thought of me….and it had very little roots within me.

    In the past 8 years I have been on a path of gathering me…

    I have found parts of myself in the oddest of places.

    Like, my toenails were owned by the FALC (First Apostolic Lutheran Church). As well as my hair, my make-up less face, my womb, etc.  

    I found my decisions in my husband.  I believed he and he alone should make the 'big choices'.

    I found my spirit and my soul to be very small…in comparison to the rest of my life. 

    I found my love, trust and faith to have been trashed and I am working to revive it.

    I found my mothering skills a direct reflection of my mothers and in horror worked to re-define them.

    The list is endless and I just never know when a part of me will pop up…when a lost part of myself will come into view. 

    I recognize it by how powerless I am.

    It means a part of me is being held hostage, I am not in control.

    If I can find a way to not be influenced or affected by them, I take me back.

    The harder the challenge, the more of me, I stand to gain.

    My path has been long, for I had given so much of me away….

    It is truly exhilarating and terrifying, gratifying and confounding, hating and loving, equally.

    A long road back to me.

  • Speak No Truths.

    "Not only will we have to repent for the sins of bad people; but we also will have to repent for the appalling silence of good people.” Martin Luther King Jr.

    I just finished reading "Night" by Elie Wiesel and here is a part that is interesting.

    "Two days after my operation, there was a rumor going round camp that the front had suddenly drawn nearer. The Red Army, they said, was advancing on Buna; it was only a matter of hours now."

    "We were already accustomed to rumors of this kind. It was not the first time a false prophet had foretold to us peace-on-earth, negotiations-with-the-Red-Cross-for-our-release, or other false rumors…..And often we believed them. It was an injection of morphine."

    "But this time these prophecies seemed more solid. During the last few nights, we had heard guns in the distance."

    "My neighbor, the faceless one, said: 

    "Don't let yourself be fooled with illusions.  Hitler has made it very clear that he will annihilate all the Jews before the clock strikes twelve, before they can hear the last stroke."

    "I burst out;"

    "What does it matter to you?  Do we have to regard Hilter as a prophet?"

    "His glazed, faded eyes looked at me. At last he said in a weary voice:"

    "I've got more faith in Hitler, than in anyone else.  He's the only one who's kept his promises, all his promises, to the Jewish people."  

    "At four o'clock on the afternoon of the same day, as usual the bell summoned all heads of the blocks to go and report."

    "They came back shattered.  They could only just open their lips enough to say the word: evacuation.  The camp was to be emptied, and we were to be sent further back. Where to?  To somewhere right in the depths of Germany, to other camps; there was no shortage of them."

    "When?"

    "Tomorrow evening?"

    "Perhaps the Russians will arrive first."

    "Perhaps."

    "We knew perfectly well that they would not."  Elie Wiesel

    Isn't it interesting how Hitler kept his word?

    Isn't it also enlightening to see the hope and continual belief in what keeps failing?

    I realize that Elie's experience of evil is at the utmost end of the spectrum…and yet, it seems that in sexual abuse, the only one to keep their word or to be faithful to themselves are the perpetrators.  The 'good' folk just keep promising and failing.

    I see Evil as being this faithful one you can rely upon and how most will continually believe IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN….and put their faith in that.  When history and family legacies and sheer statistics show us how you can rely upon evil to deliver.

    And, I am not sure who will stop this machine of sexual abuse. There is no Red Army approaching the lines…trying to curtail the activities of most pedophiles.

    It seems mostly to me, that most are waiting.  Waiting for what, I am not sure.

    Some wait for him to die….

    Some wait to leave home.

    Some wait and hope there will be no more.

    And, while we wait and believe that tomorrow the abuse will be done, it will be over….it will end. The abuser has no one stopping him.

    I see very little active pursuit of eliminating the next victims availability…to make them scarce to these individuals.  Instead, it is like we are inviting him into our camps…for very few will ask him to leave.

    I just find it amazing how we can count on the abuser, he is more faithful…He is the true prophet.

    And those who are hoping to change or for change are the false prophets…they speak no truths.


  • Normal Wild Deer

    Yesterday on my mail route…On a back road, off of a 'main' back road, I stopped to bring a full tray of mail up to the passenger seat.  I had left the driver's door open, gone around to the back of the jeep, and was about to set my tray of mail down and across the passenger seat and in my driver's door, was a deer looking at me.  

    He wasn't big, but big enough to just be sniffing around the steering wheel.  I said, "Hey buddy…."  

    I then recalled delivering a package to a house on this road in the fall, and small fawn was just inside the yard and the man who was accepting the package had explained to me, that it was an orphan.  I don't recall now how it had been separated from its mother, but the man said it would take food from his family.

    And, now here I was with this human fed deer… and he wastrusting I had something for him.

    All I had left was a few Ritz Crackers, which I hand fed him.  His little black button nose grazing my gloves as he nibbled the cracker. I didn't have my camera along…or you would have a picture to look upon.

    I will carry carrots with me (and camera) in hopes of seeing him again.  I wonder if he waits to hear or smell humans on his road…like meals on wheels.

    What I also thought, how interesting the nurturing process was in his case. How he grew to trust humans by the act of survival; for he was too little to forge for food on his own…when his mother disappeared.

    In his deer mind, we are kind and giving people a food source, not the perpetrators (hunters) many deer know us by.

    I truly didn't believe, believe you could take a 'wild' animal and domesticate it…and yet they are lured into trusting us out of survival.  

    And, I also know the same is true in reverse, how we will endure awful treatment for food and shelter…as children without a choice.

    Just interesting to witness the unusal deer….who came towards me, instead of fleeing like normal wild deer.



  • Harmony is in our Choices.

    ‎"Harmony is the inner cadence of contentment we feel when the melody of life is in tune. When somehow we're able to strike the right cord to balance the expectations of our families and our responsibilities in the world on one hand with our inner needs of spiritual growth and personal expression on the other. This is one of the most difficult challenges any woman (man) faces because it requires us to make choices every day. And yet most of us often feel too tired to choose anything more than what to have for dinner." Sarah Ban Breathnach

    Life is in the choices we choose…and remember the old saying "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."  

    It then seems, that in order to have balance; we need to play for as many hours we work.  

    And to make it half of our life's work to do things for your Inner Needs.

    To put that on the list and be as conscientious as if it were a Job.

    I bet, if we start paying attention to our choices and see that there are two distinct categories, one being for the expecations family and job….and the other self, we will see what parts we are overfeeding.

    Deepak Chopra used to end his hour long radio show with, "Keep your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground."

    To keep our imaginations and playfulness alive…while keeping up with our responsiblities.

    I have my yoga room heating….and then off to work….but, I will end this day in the company of Ladies and Art Quilts.  Harmony is in our choices.



  • Keeping me from my life.

    A comment on my last post, prompted me to remember these two quotes by Dr. Maya Angelou.

    "Children's talent to endure stems from their ignorance of alternatives." 

    "…surrender in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice."

    What I knew, but didn't know know, was that one of the affects of abuse is lying.

    We lie to survive…

    We surrender to lying, for it feels better than knowing the truth.

    And, I also believe we are forced to lie for the abuser and if the person we tell doesn't believe, we are forced to give up our truths, for no one will help.

    Our tolerance for lying is how we literally survive.

    It is almost a requirement to being able to make it out of abuse…and at the same time; the tool we used to survive, is the same one that we have to tear down in order to heal.

    No more lies.  And, we know intuitively how much trouble we will be in when we begin this process. 

    Fear and terror come in when we give up our lies and refuse to play the game of secrets.  We are putting aside the cocoon we used to protect ourselves when we were little.

    We survived by crawling into lies.

    It seemed impossible and completely insane, to be so terrified of being truthful.

    And, how at 54, I am okay with 'not being liked' when I am being truthful.

    How immature this sentiment is, and yet so powerful that it kept me a cripple…a woman who felt more secure in lies, than standing in her truth.

    Not only did I have to fight myself and keep my own fears and terror at bay, but I had a family who ridiculed and hollered at me while exiting my 'safe' place.  Which makes the healing from abuse so unique and complex.

    If your abuser is a family member, you will not be supported as you discover and recover your truths.  Instead, they will rise against you

    Not only do you feel vulnerable for leaving your survival mode, but you are being bombarded and put down for doing so. There are no cheers of encouragement, rather there is raining disapproval.

    I stand in awe of my journey…and, as Dr. Maya Angelou also says, "I would take nothing for my journey now."

    Looking back, it seems as if the veil of illusion was ripped from my eyes and the truth blinded me.  I was ill prepared and crippled, like bird whose shell was busted from the outside.  One moment I was in the comfortable illusion, the next standing naked, defenseless outside with the truth swirling around me; one assault after another.

    I had thought the inside of the egg was my life…when in fact, it was keeping me from my life.



  • Art from the Inside Out.

    As I finished writing the last blog and it came to "Hating that my mother lied to me.." I realized later on today, that I hated me for believing it.  I hated me for being okay living as a mask too, for weasalling out of the truth more times than, I too, care to count.  And, I am wise enough to know that what  blame on the outside truly belongs to me.

    I hated me.

    I hated me and my lies I lived.

    I hated and held resentment towards myself for caring more about my own mask, and I lied.

    I lied when I felt resentment towards my mother and never explored it.

    I lied when I felt cold towards my father and I acted as warm as I could get.

    I lied to be liked, to be kind, to be accepted, to not 'push a button' and to avoid the anger.  

    I really have to be extremely grateful when my parents truth (and mine) were exposed, when our masks tilted and fell…for truthfulness lay bare.

    And, it was too huge to cover up. There were not enough lies to make it work again, my mask was shattered AND the scariest part that behind the mask was a blank face.

    I had no me.

    What also came to me today, are the Ladies in my quilts. They have no faces.  

    Here is my latest one.  I love her.  She is my Second WIND Lady….


    IMG_9324
     She too has great energy and I love the WIND moving her around her.  I am not sure if I will add anything more. There is lots of my hand-dyed fabric in the borders. I did however, wonder how a mask would be laying in the dirt.  I may try that.

    Here is another view.


    IMG_9319
    I wonder if a face will ever appear.  Very interesting to not know how your Art will move.  Like Life it seems to move by feelings; art from the inside out.

  • When I Say My Truth.

    I had a feeling yesterday that clicked firmly into place; how I see myself, and how others may, see me as well.

    I would rather be hated for speaking the truth, than to be liked for speaking lies.

    It is okay if they hate me, for not wanting to hear the truth.  

    I would rather that, then for them to hate me for telling lies. 

    If they don't like me it is okay…but the main focus for me is to always live as truthfully as I can. To always say what feels uncomfortable at the time, than to shy away from the truth.  

    It is best to live on the crisp edge of honesty and be hated for it, than to be 'liked' for stepping back from the harsh truth of reality…and be liked for being 'kind'.

    I could see stretched before me my past as well as my future, and I knew that I would rather be standing here, than standing where I see my mother.

    She didn't tell the truth and I hate her lies.

    I hate that she wasn't honest with us.

    I hate her for telling lies.

    She gave me nothing to hold on to.  

    She is like water in a clenched fist…

    I saw myself standing as substance…as a solid… a solid one unmovable piece, something you could hold.  Even if I am unliked, there is something to me.  I have content, I am made of something.  I stand for something.

    Truth is the content of who we are.  It is the fingerprint of your soul.

    Lies are the pretend layer that floats above….the mask…that hides you.

    I only knew my mother's mask. 

    Truth reveals me…

    Hate my truth.

    Hate me…

    It matters not.

    I am comfortable without a mask.

    My parents wore masks.

    In the end, all I was left with, were their masks…the false life of lies.

    I want my children to know me…and not a mask.

    To even hate who I am, is better than living a life as a mask.

    I would rather they not like the lady I am, than to be liked by wearing a mask.

    I then thought, "who is my mother?"

    Do you know, in the first few weeks, months okay, years of me seeing my mother's mask fall, I had the overwhelming sentiment of being the little bird who lost its mother….who went out to find her.  "Are you my mother?"

     I thought I was searching for my mother, when I was actually searching for me.

    And, the old phrase that has haunted my journey, "I am lost, I am going to find myself, and I don't even know who I am?"

    It seemed an impossible task; looking for someone I don't know.

    But, now I can see how I found myself.  One truth at a time. 

    I re-built me.

    By never ducking behind a mask, instead by standing out, fearlessly, being me.

    Hating me for my truth is way okay with me…it is better than finding out I am full of lies.

    I woke up at 46 to a life of a mask.

    I am now 54, and 8 years old. 

    I find me when I say my truth.



     


  • Policing of Humanity.

    I went to see the movie "Lincoln" yesterday, and was surprised to see human nature of his time, how humanity wasn't separated from the issue of their time, and how it takes courage to say and fight for a new level of humanity.

    Lincoln was striving for the good of all people, not just his people…and what he stood for would have no impact upon him.  Meaning the passing of the amendment 13, would not be changing his life, but had a great impact on our country at large.  And, how he had to sway others into vote, often times at their own peril of re-election.

    He seemed to carry the weight of the world, and in fact he did carry generations of African Americans upon his back.  It wasn't just for the benefit of the living, but the generations that followed.  They depended upon him to be able to win this vote…

    Imagine, your freedom lies in the hands of others…

    I also like how some Feared what setting 'them' free would mean; what sort of chaos would spill forth and how would they handle it.  It wasn't so much the individual who was enslaved to now be free, but how it would impact their already free lives.

    How they were fearing freedom for all.  Like equality is something to fear…

    I like how he asked the two Telegraphers, if they thought they were born to serve the time?  And one says, "You were, I am not so sure about me."

    What does our time need?

    What kind of humanity will push us into a new level of awareness?

    Was I born into the perfect time to help turn the dial?

    Am I hindering progress?

    Like Elie Wiesel asked of himself, "Am I doing enough?"  And, he also felt that he had just begun, at 82 years old.

    Just very thought provoking to see your self in this era and wonder about your contribution.

    Lincoln was born exactly at the right time and had all the tools and wisdom humanity needed in order to rise to a higher level.

    The movie was about human nature, much more than politics, or perhaps that is what politics is about….policing of humanity.


  • Perfect for Me.

    In January, 2004…I had made a list of things I wanted in life, my future, a bucket list of sorts, but mostly it appears as it were dreams without substance.

    What I mean by that is they were things I wanted to do, lofty goals or what I thought would fulfill my life, but they lacked the beginning.  They lacked me being fully capable of actually knowing the content and substance or the first building blocks…the training or understanding.

    It is to want something that is grand, without the struggle or sweat that it takes to get there.

    Like wanting to cross the finish line of a marathon, but only running the last mile…to feel the accomplishment, but not what it takes to run each step and each mile.

    It is erily like my life back then, minus the center or a true foundation.  Built upon the lightness of life…full of holes and places I skirted around.  Not a true solid running path.

    The things I dreamed for and wanted…was like plucking ideas out of the clouds, with no intentions of doing the work or having the understanding of their path.  Just an item, free floating unattached….that I could simply grab and have.

    A list of fanciful dreams…even a fantasy. A list I wanted to be delivered to me, where the Universe would do all the work, and I just sat and waited.  A lazy dreamer and goal maker.  

    The list and the list maker… I hardly recognize.  And the things I wanted were such senseless things or just things….and not a fuller life, but a life of more things and doings. And, the doings were not connected to my center or me, but something I thought the world needed, not something from within me.

    Oh, I did throw in a few "spiritual" or "feeling" aspirations, but even then, I didn't know what each would require of me…they just sounded 'nice'.

    I may write another list and see the differences.  In a way, I wish I hadn't read the old list first, but just went ahead and wrote AND then I could compare fairly.  Now, I wonder if I would be too grounded to dream the infinite dream?

    What part of me would my bucket list now serve…the center or the dreamer…and what are my dreams?  

    The early list, I believe was what I thought would make me happy, alive and successful and even comfortable.  And yet nothing of the list would have gotten me to where I am today…at peace and fully connected to my center.  It took tragedy and loss, pain and sorrow to make me aware of a whole new level of me.

    It is very interesting to me, that most of what I had on the list, was meaningless and would not have changed who I am or my content…all it would have done was kept me busy at the surface and perhaps dressed nicer and living in better places, going see fun things, but it would not have touched the center of me. 

    I can clearly see the woman who believed that changing the outside would make the inside better.  When in fact the outside stayed the same, but the inside shattered…

    Truth flooded my insides, while the outside remained unchanged…and that toppled any dream list I had.  All my dreams changed.  All I wanted was to be at peace, to know truth, to be joy, to live in harmony with reality…to survive with my life intact…with all my faculties.  To work my way through the insanity of my flipped upside down mind…to get to a place where what I said and what I saw all was in step with the Universe (One Verse).

    For my life to have only one side…and all words and actions to be as they appeared, to not live hiding truths due to their ugly content, but to live fearlessly facing all of life as it appeared like a plain glass window…  To be a seer and not a fanciful dreamer and pretender.

    I know now, that my dreams, intentions and desires would now come from deep within me, and would more than likely contain things that are self less; more that they would be moving through me…Like the Lady Quilts.  Where I am there, but it is much bigger than I.

    In the old list, I was the dream maker, shaper and designer…now, I would be the one who the dream passed through.  

    I can only orchestrate the open space and be accessible and daring…and not be rigid and set on a certain path.  But like the pen being held by an artist….moving freely and not fighting the hand that holds me.

    I no longer resist…for I was shown, that what I would have called my worst moments in life, were actually some of my brightest.  They revealed to me, Me.

    Instead of facing life as a pen and its limited knowing of who I am, I will let the Universe draw me…

    I am surprised often.  

    I am thrilled by synchronistic events that collide, and how I don't know my path, except for this last edge of the pen stroke.

    Today, I am here…ready to see what movements I do, what I am inspired (In Spirit) to do.

    Loving that I am now a pen without a path…there are no dots to search for and ones to swerve around.  I am free to be moved by the Universe….we are truly one verse.

    I only suffer, when I don't like the line that It has drawn or the way it wants me to go.

    If I relax in the hand of the Universe, all my desires and needs will be met. My life has moved down a path that is perfect for me.

  • All that wasn’t true.

    I was left wondering about my family of origin and the way we are spinning as we go through life.

    Some are spinning towards their center and some are spinning away.

    What is easier, going against the spinning majority and losing their love and attention, or spinning with the majority spinning away from your own center.

    One is being pulled by what the majority needs and wants and the other is to spin to the beat of your own drum.  There is a price to be paid for both…neither is a free ride of bliss and ease.

    And, from what I have come to know, the destinations are actually more important than the spinning. Where are you spinning to? What will be the outcome?  What will you have and to hold when you get there?  Is there a there?  Who are you as you are spinning?  

    I can see the two different ways of spinning.

    One is me and the other are most of my siblings.  

    I have spun both ways and I know that each has its pain and suffering, but what I didn't fully grasp is how you end up.

    Will you spin into madness or will you spin into clarity?

    Will you eventually spin completely out of control and lose complete sight of your center and in knowing who you are?  

     Do you spin in rebellion or are you spinning in harmony….and in harmony for peace in the family or harmony for your soul?

    Where we end up will matter more than the journey itself.

    Who will you be and where will you land?

    What is the cost of spinning away from your self?

    And is it really possible to leave your self or are you taking your self on a ride and it watches you and knows how you continually make choices against your self in order to make peace 'out there'.  

    I know that in the past I made choice after choice mindless or heedless of what its cost was to me, to the self, the essence of me, how each choice that was based for ease today, piled another layer upon me, leaving the real me far far below.

    I also know, they know. They know that they are unwilling to ruffle feathers. Unwilling to push a button, unwilling to see what is uncomfortable seeing, to instead say things that are not true to have 'peace' today.  This is the spin.  Just as many journalist put a spin on their stories, so to do we.

    We spin them to make it more palpitable for today…we either spin with the truth or spin it to make it sound better.

    Spinning with the harmony of reality or spinning away in denial.

    We spin for many reasons.

    We spin to be liked and to have love and to be not alone.

    We spin to be perfect and to appear kind.

    We spin to not feel the truth and the pain that follows.

    We spin our lives to make us feel better.

    But where will it lead?  Does it lead to a better life, a happier home, a loving relationship or does it keep you from feeling real life?

    Just interesting to see the lives spinning and wonder what they are weaving.

    Spinning out of control or spinning into control.

    What I didn't know either, is that there is no difference between spinning out of control with drugs/alcohol etc or spinning into dark oblivion of strict religion or in denial of abuse.  

    In all YOU are out of control.  You are not able to make choices for your self.

    Just as dysfunctional families do not want anyone wielding free will in their relationships. There is only one way to spin in abusive homes, and it certainly is not for your own good.  You must spin around the abuser…like a tragic merry-go-round.

    I have spun now both ways. 

    One is spinning out of control and away from the center of me….and the further and longer you spin, it will be harder to gain control and reverse the spin.

    The centrifugal motion takes immense amount of strength and courage to stop. 

    I had a whole life of 46 years based upon spinning away from my center.  

    I had to unwind and undo all that I had spun into an illusion…

    It literally felt like I was becoming undone.

    And I was.

    I was unraveling all that wasn't true.