I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Truth of What Is.

    Niceness stays quiet.

    Kindness speaks up.

    Niceness is toxic.

    Kindness is healing.

    Niceness lies to keep the peace.

    Kindness knows the only way to make peace is to tell the truth.

    Niceness holds back.

    Kindness moves forward with humility, gentleness and grace.

    By Allison Vesterfelt.

     

     

    I have been trying to articulate the vast differences of words that appear so similar.

    Be kind or be nice – seems to have the same value – and yet they feel completely different.

    What I needed the most back when I discovered my denial and all that it covered up – was for someone to speak up.

    I needed kindness, not silence.

    I needed truth and those willing to be with it.

    To own it and hold it and regard it as a kindness to the legacy of our family.

     

    What I believe is that I went from a nice girl, to a kind one. And it completely changed who I was and how my life looked and felt. And even IF I fit into my family or not.  Kindness didn't live there.

     

    If we think of kindness as living your truth and niceness and denying it – you may understand this.

     

    My mother would say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing."

    At face value this sounds nice or even kind.

    However, often this sentiment is what comes back at you when you speak a truth – that they don't want to hear.

     

    Nice is often touted as being better than the truth.

     

    Is there really something better than the truth of anything.

    Are there truths you are better off not knowing?

     

    One of my gravest errors was believing that everyone wants to be on the field of truth.

    That no one would rather not know – than know.

     

    I was wrong.

     

    I was raised in an environment of niceness.

    Especially against truths that were ugly and harmful and toxic to love.

    As if niceness can change a truth.

     

    What became real apparent was that I was worse for speaking the truth of abuse – in comparison to the ones actually committing the crimes.  I was seen as unkind at best. I was unkind – not that my father did unkind things. I broke the family's rule – I was willing to shatter the peace. I was unkind for living the consequences of truth.

     

    The negative words and feelings towards me equal their aversion to the truth.

    There is a founded fear of letting truth in – for it will undo all the lies.

    One truth can begin to unravel a nice life.

     

    At least this is true in my experience.

     

    What was so shocking to me, is that many would speak the truth to me, but go on in niceness and say nothing, change nothing in their relationships. Just overlook and be silent about a truth that would upend their world. They choose niceness. To me this is a common form of denial.

     

    Being where I am now, I am appalled at how many folks chose to live a 'nice' life rather than a truthful one in kindness.

     

    What kindness feels like in comparison to being nice is shocking at first, but very empowering.

    Nice is such a victim stance – being silent or speaking lies for peace.

     

    While I may appear unkind and even evoke feelings of unkindness –  in my heart of hearts, I know that it truly is healing.

     

    I do move forward with humility gentleness and grace.

    I understand their kindness – even if I don't agree with it.

    Living life hand and hand with all truths is not for the faint of heart.

     

    What set me apart from my family – was my inability to be nice.

    They needed nice to keep their family together.

    I needed to be kind to me, my little girl and the girls(children) who followed in my footsteps.

    I had learned the hard way that being nice didn't change anything.  Being nice just kept the toxic relationships going.

     

    It is my hope that I am never nice.

     

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    May I always have the courage to see clearly into the truth of what is.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Express the Inexpressible.

    This blog has been a space to put down my confusion to express the inexpressible.

     

    I had to look up the word "inexpressible".

    "(of a feeling) too strong to be described or conveyed in words."

    "not capable of being expressed."

     

    Perhaps I have troubles pinpointing the feelings to be expressed.

    Because how do you express what empty feels like.

    Or the content of hollow or nothing.

    Yet full of every imaginable emotion.

    The past is littered with volatile feelings and emotions.

    It is like every emotion and then the vacuum of none.

    Estrangement leaves a void that eclipse emotions.

    Estrangement doesn't seem to have a feeling – just a desire for nothing.

     

    So, with all that in mind.  I will try and explain an incident that happened tonight.

    My friend and I drive up to our volunteer garden, El Camino and three kayaks – we slide into a parking spot and an old woman is up ahead in front of us – walking with a cane.  I feel her familiarity. Looking closer – I see my mother.

     

    I sit in the car and watch – knowing she knows this car – or perhaps she has forgotten. 

    I shut off the engine and tell my friend.  If my mother notices me/this car I will walk away.

    I want zero interaction with her.

     

    Walking slowly she approaches our garden, pauses for a beat or more – and then ambles off. 

     

    This feeling – of having a mother – who you haven't seen in 9 years and haven't talked to in 17 – is inexpressible. 

    It is unnatural.

    What feelings are inside to be expressed – when what you want is space, distance, silence and no contact.

    What you want is a permanent void.

    But, you don't have that.

    You have a life walking pausing being there.

     

    This life, that gave you life – then gave you pain and did not notice – is in your world – unannounced.

    One moment your world doesn't have her – and then she's there.

    A ghost

    A prick to the wound.

    A reminder.

     

    Slamming into each other are emotions and expressions.

    She walks with a cane and denial.

    I sit with reality and our history.

    The years of healing, boundaries and absence has made me into a different person.

    But she has missed all that.

    To her, I would be the same; but just absent.

    Not different.

     

    What she would see and want to engage with is the old me.

    The me who lived in denial. Her daughter.  She would want to be my mom.

    That me has died.

     

    The woman who sat in the El Camino – is aware now.

    She knows, feels and has healed years of pains and sorrows.

     

    The old woman with a cane – doesn't know my pain or my sorrows.

    She didn't see me tonight and didn't see me years ago.

     

    A ghost walked by our garden tonight.

    A critical part of my history and source of much heartbreaking emotions.

    She was unaware I was so close. 

    Maybe I am the ghost.

     

    I don't often wonder what she thinks or even if she thinks of me.

    What would she do with a girl like me – unruly, strong, empowered, brave, badass, boundary setting lady.

    She was haughty the last time we spoke.

    Imagine, haughty towards a daughter who was abused by her husband.

    Haughty is a good word.

     

    Here is what that means. "arrogantly superior and disdainful."

     

    The crazy makings of trying to articulate this – is the lack of accountability on her part. The lack of utter and overwhelming grief – that she hurt so many.  Instead she comes 'home' to her family.  Comes back to the scene of the crimes.  Comes back like there is no past history of horrible memories.  To her she is coming home to beauty.

     

    This lack of remorse or even knowing what she participated in to her own children leaves me breathless and with zero desire to even entertain one minute of conversation.

     

    I don't know what is normal for an estranged daughter who sees her mother.

    But my reaction was to let the ladies know – I would walk away.

     

    At times like these this bugs me too. I am unable to have a normal or regular reaction when I see my mother. 

    I am placed in an awkward pose.

    Inside of me isn't a warm exciting longing loving feeling.

    Inside of me feels like victim who sees their perpetrator.

    I want distance and I don't want them to see me.

    I don't want further pokes into my wound.

    I want to protect my inner love and peace and joy.

    I want to walk my joy away.

     

    I did still have a good night.

    We tended the garden.

    We floated on the water.

    I won't lie – thoughts came and went and I was distracted – jarred from seeing her.

    I wonder at times why the universe plops her into my world.

    What am I to learn.

    Imagine the precision of timing it takes to have us in the same space at the exact moment of time.

    Especially when we can go years without a sighting.

    I did see her once years ago in my mail jeep – passing like ships in the night – I didn't slow down.

     

    Anyway. I feel better having played with words trying to express the inexpressible.

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  • Commitment to myself

    "If abandonment is the core wound

    the disconnection from mother

    the loss of wholeness

    then the most potent of medicine 

    is the ancient commitment

    to never abandon

    yourself

    to discover wholeness in the whole-mess

    to be a loving mother

    to your insides

    to hold the broken bits 

    in warm open awareness

    and to illuminate the sore places

    with the light

    of love."  Jeff Foster.

     

    So much is being said in the words above that resonate with me and my journey.

    How I was abandoned with my wounds – unattended – and how I had to hold my broken bits with warm open awareness.  Seriously. 

    I recall feeling the task was too large. To ask a broken down person to heal thy self if you will – felt insane.

     

    To illuminate the sore places is heart wrenching and yet hold them to the light with love. To love the sadness and empty hole where a loving parent should be.

     

    Often I hear that abused children lose their innocence – they don't.

    They lose the parent who leaves us unattended.

    We lose the parent who hurts us.

    We don't lose our innocence, we are innocent.

    We are abandoned but still innocent.

    We can even be broken and innocent.

    The ones who lose their innocence IS the perpetrator. They no longer are innocent parents. That is theirs to carry. When they harmed us or left us unattended, they abandoned us.

    I am not sure I can articulate the way a parent abandons us as they abuse. For they no longer are our parents. We are left without parents.  A true loving parent will not abuse. A true loving parent walks away from those who abuse their child. 

    It seems utterly insane that this even happens.

    Yet, so many children, adult children, experience being left alone far too early.

    To not have the comfort of knowing someone is there for you.

     

    What is so tragic are the many children who are left alone with huge wounds in dysfunctional homes, who have no one that sees them or hears them. That alone feeling can only be healed when we step in and mother ourselves.

    We truly can be the mother we never had.

     

    I had to learn how to mother.

    Learn how to be strong and set boundaries while broken.

     

    I had an image of me as a young girl and she lived in me. At 46, I began making choices that would honor her and respect her and her brokenness.  Even broken I was a good mother to me.

     

    As the years have passed, I am in awe of what I achieved - maintaining a strong commitment to myself – even when challenged by my family of origin – or more abandoned by them.

    Which many of them would argue against.

     

    Yet, as a brother or sister – If you stood with the parents – you abandoned me.

    The same many would claim that it was I who abandoned my family for I am estranged.

    That it is I who walked away.

     

    As an estranged child it does appear at first glance that it was I who choose to leave.

    Many never consider the reasons I am no longer part of the family.

    Or more – see the commitment to my self and what I needed to heal.

    All they may see is family – and love it and all its brokenness.

    Neglecting the pieces that make up a family – each person.

     

    I love the words and the sentiments they hold – for they bring hope and healing and more self -love.

     

    Often we want to love only the good parts of us – and seldom is it talked about how we actually need to shine light and loving kindness on the pieces that hurt us.

     

    This is one of my greatest achievements – my commitment to myself.

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  • Out of My Mind

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    I was asked to write an article for this paper.

    I have never written formally before.

    I have written a million or more words in my journals and on my blogs, but nothing formal.

     

    It took many first starts to find my tone.  It is the same tone I use on my blog.

    The tone is me.  

    Just speaking from this moment in time and my experiences.

     

    It is an interesting question on what Health and Happiness means to you.

    How does it sit in your world – how do you tend it?

     

    I have a clear moment in time where I woke up from a brainwashed system both in my family and in religion.  My mind had been securely closed off – and I wasn't aware.

     

    For true health and happiness, I believe you need an open mind.  A mind that is healthy, and able to challenge itself. In yoga they speak about bringing the mind back to the body – and to me that is the hardest thing to do – to be present in this moment of time – and not have a mind running amuck on endless fruitless tracks. 

     

    A quiet mind.  A mind that I can use and not have it use me. This quiet open mind has allowed me to live in peace, love and joy. To me, that is true health and happiness.

     

    My mind was a complete and utter mess.  It had so many wires crossed and was filled with lies and blank spaces. And, it had been living my life unchallenged. It never occurred to me that its contents were untruths. 

    A friend asked me, how was it possible to live in denial.

    Like, how can you not know.

     

    It is the oddest thing to not know you don't know.

     

    I think, I thought denial was, you knew and choose not to believe.

    Instead you don't know and you don't choose not to know.  Something in your brain doesn't allow information in that will oppose what it believes in.

     

    It is frightening to know that your brain can filter reality to keep its story alive.

     

    For the first 46 years of my life I lived a fairytale – reality wasn't allowed in.

     

    It isn't as rare as many may think.

    In my experience, I have encountered many who live under the control of their minds.  Childhood beliefs and religious standards become their own rulers.  Rulers as in kings.  It dominates and steers their lives.

     

    I used to think faith was a kind master.  Now, I am not so sure.

     

    A strong faith is often a mind that has been warped – and a body controlled.

     

    I am not certain whether my spiritual abuse came before or after my sexual abuse. But, the two together formed an ironclad bond in my mind.  It kept me from Me.

     

    The mind disowned my body and its truths. And, the mind turned a blind eye to reality and what was happening. I get it. I was too young to know what was going on and it shielded me with blankness.

    Yet it left me not knowing what I needed to know.  

     

    It is hard for many folks to understand what the mind does with abuse.

    To me the longest affects of abuse is the damaged mind.  The mind that believes in untruths.

    This sets you up to live life in a very confused way.

     

    Where reality skips by and untruths live as if they were true.

    There is a weird place you can literally live your whole life, untouched by reality.

    Seriously.

     

    I did it for 46 years.  

     

    Where you don't have the ability or space to question your thoughts and challenge your beliefs to go back and delve into systems you were raised in – to look at a wider deeper lens into your own life.

    To see see things as they are, not as your mind believes they are.

    Because I came from a religion that set itself up like a cult, where sameness was needed. Where rules and sins were in place to keep order and fear of hell made following the rules imperative. I see so many people lost in their minds and they don't even know it. Just as I was.

     

    Health and happiness is when you can break free of the mind and see things as they are.

    I feel so secure with reality and living what is.

    My body feels peace in reality.

    I often wonder when there is so much anxiety if it isn't grounded in a mind out of touch with reality.

    A mind that was created for a reason and then lost touch with the ground.

     

    It is scary to me to see so many lost in their beliefs.

     

    It was interesting to me as I was waking up from the brainwashing, how the lies of the mind felt in the body, compared to the truth of reality.  Bit by bit, I would question my mind and its lies.  Learning more and more how wiley it was.

     

    Unraveling years of denial and blind faith.

    What I know to be true for me, is happiness and health truly come when I live outside of my mind – when I am able to be here now, and accept what reality is serving in this moment of time.  Allowing life to be as it is, like nature.  

    I am one with nature and the nature of even being me.  My mind is now used to witness reality instead of erasing what is. I am happily out of my mind.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • I live in peace

    Ten years ago today, I was the Keynote Speaker at Dial Help's Gala held at Michigan Tech. My Storyline quilts were also on display. I was going public in a fancy way.

     

    I remember the feelings of shame/anxiety and angst that collided with strength, empowerment and courage. I felt fear and bravely went ahead anyway. I also was excited to show my quilts – my journey in fabric. The beautiful colors, expressions and healing they held.

    A friend said, it was my coming out.

     

    In a way, it was me introducing me to the world – the me free from the cloud of denial. Yet she was fairly new to herself – I can see now – 10 years later.

     

    While I was in the healing process – and had uncovered and lay bare so much of my wound – I hadn't the time for re-growth. I was still pretty raw and yet I stood up and shared a part of the victim's journey.

    The main idea was to be the voice I had longed for, and to speak about what is most often kept silent.

     

    Having my quilts present with me, softened and made more palatable my words.

     

    Speaking truthfully about the reality of having a pedophile for a father and a mother who knew and allowed it to continue for generations – and how it sets you up in reality – was my tone for the talk.

     

    What is so hard for others to understand is how at 46 I suddenly knew what I didn't know before. How denial is just that denial. 

     

    When you are raised in a false landscape, you believe it to be your truth. You are not given both sides to debate with.  It is very difficult for my mind to understand the depth and darkness of denial – let alone explain it.  The sheer will of the mind is against you.

    What I know to be true, is that there are many souls who live in the land of denial. They believe in its false truths as if they were true.  They are lost among the false realities and are unaware.

    Many people believe that denial is a thing you contemplate and then execute. When in fact it happens prior to thought. 

    Or more, there is no other choice available.

    Until there is.

    You don't know what you don't know, until you know.

     

    My years of living in denial feel like a separate life – and I died in that one at 46.

     

    This second life I am living is so drastically different, I am a new me.

     

    The me I am today, even 10 years after the Gala is so much more at peace, in love and with joy – it is beyond what my imagination could imagine.

     

    I know that when I began walking out of denial – the future was a ghost on the horizon of 'someday'.

    I lived for this moment in time. I took one step at a time hoping I could change the legacy of my family.

    I wasn't following a pathway that held a specific destination or place marked "healed" or "whole" or even happy.  All I knew for sure, is that I couldn't repeat what I had lived through.  I wasn't going to be my mother whose blindness and ability to live well in denial cost so many little ones their innocence.

    I had to try and walk different. Live different and make choices that cost me my family of origin.

    I had to.

     

    I had to try. 

     

    I didn't once again know what I didn't know. 

    I was beginning a journey with a new self into a foreign land of truths and mental awareness. 

    And, I was taking my family with me – whether they knew it or not – we'd all experience the effects of my choices.  It wasn't easy for them – or for any one of us.  Being different isn't an easy role to live out. In dysfunctional families it often means estrangement. 

     

    We have to make the choices that separate us from the patterns and often that means ending relationships.  Anyone who sided with the pedophile was automatically distanced from.  There was no other way.

    There isn't a spot in a relationship that will tolerate child abuse – and family love.

    You simply cannot have both.

    You get to pick one.

     

    What I am most proud of is my ability to stay the course – losing so many along the way.

    The relationship deaths were and are, real deaths. 

    We ceased to exist for each other.

     

    The reason abuse continues on for generations is the inability to sever ties with family.

    Those who can, are becoming more and more common.  I do know others now who have left their families for the same reasons. Whereas ten years ago, I knew no one – only a few authors.

     

    Looking backwards over the years, I know it was hard and I am not sure where I got my inner determination and grit to stick it out. To walk away from a large family – but I did.

     

    I am hopeful as I watch the new generation of my family tree – move through life – they do now have both sides I didn't have. They have me speaking truthfully and acting out that truth, as I stay way from family functions – they are spared denial.

     

    Even if, or maybe especially if the reality is harsh and brutal and abuse of children happens – I will speak of it. I will do and say and be the one to says out loud – what needs to be said.

    The difference truth would have made to my childhood and the childhood of my sisters and our friends is quite shocking.  So many are now lost to themselves, their own truths and self-love, self-empowerment and a life free of denial.

     

    I think the biggest or greatest loss is the loss of self.  

    Denying our own truths, our hurts, our fears…and a clear mind.

    A mind that can hold even the most shocking of truths.

    Yet, often our denial begins with abuse and spares us the harsh reality we live in.

    So, while we live in the harsh reality, our minds transpose a nicer overlay of loving kindness.

     

    What I am most grateful for is being able to see – even if at first I saw too much – and that I had the ability to speak about what I saw and how it impacted my world.  How freeing it was to be able to walk hand and hand with the truth.  The more I shared and the more I wrote and posted, the more I defined me and began to build me.

     

    Ten years and counting from the gala – 17 years and counting waking up from denial.  I love who I am becoming.

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    If my legacy is to give other little girls the chance to know themselves and be themselves and live their truths – I live in peace.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Days for Joy

    Growing up in a large family and being the oldest of 14 – there was much opportunity to pick up the slack.

    Balls were dropped, neglect organically happened due to the sheer numbers.  I was like a sponge – soaking up more and more responsibility.  Lots of what I put myself in charge of, was not mine to carry.

    I was trying to rebalance a world that was tipped out of control.

     

    It feels like I have been caring for kids since I was a kid. 

     

    Or more, being responsible for others responsibilities – and what is more true – I lost view of my own responsibilities.

     

    I am responsible for what I take on.

     

    I am also responsible for what I don't share – of hogging the responsibilities.

     

    In childhood, there was no option, if I didn't step up the balls would have laid on the floor – balls of humanity – a child's need.  The absence of caring adults left me feeing alone, overwhelmed and unseen myself.  But I had to put my needs aside for the critical needs of babies/children.

     

    My generation of grandmothers seem to be doing lots of grandchildren watching. Whether it is full-time or part-time. I don't recall my mother's generation doing this. It was often, 18 and out, and once the home was empty of children, they were Scott free.

     

    I don't know what has changed – perhaps it is the women – but often we become the secondary caregiver to our grandchild.

     

    I almost believe because many of us are still quite capable and are young grandparents – if not by age; but by energy.  We can fill the gaps quite easily.

     

    I also know what it feels like to have the weight of responsibility and not having someone to hand it off to, being the responsible one.  It can suck the fun out of your life.

     

    Raising children is a serious business and one that requires responsible folks who care. Almost impossible for one to handle alone.  Which I know is why so many of us grandparents step in.  We do it to ease the burden and to hopefully bring support to both the single parent and child.

    However, we cannot lose sight of our own lives.

    The needs and responsibilities of a child can easily block out our own needs.

     

    What I am learning is to ask for help. 

    This is new.

    For in my childhood home, there was no one to ask – it was overburdened with need and not enough caregivers.

     

    What is also challenging, is I am asking for more free time.

    Time to do what I love to do.

    Asking for space to enjoy life in ways that brings my life – more balance of work and play.

     

    Just knowing I can ask, eases the burden of responsibility.  My job is to ask.

    To feel that playing in my life is worthy of an ask.

     

    I am so grateful that I have a partner who will share responsibility.

    I have a backup.

     

    My heart aches for those who don't.

    And, my heart goes out to the many grandmothers who are out here filling in gaps.  I know it is much harder to do on so many levels. 

    I am hopeful that our sacrifices are not for naught. That both our children and their children will live in a kinder world. Where their experiences will be of generational care. Where they feel the love and care from generations above them.

     

    In my childhood – grandparents were company. They came over for parties and were treated or handled with care. They were old and not able to do chores or help out – they needed help.

    I feel that we are a new generation of grandparents.

    I know some badass grandmothers.

    The ladies I know are actively enjoying the outdoors.

    We have many toys and enjoy doing things together.

    We are trying to fit in our grandmother roles with our adventures.

     

    I believe we are the new role models where you can still have a life.

    Where you can ask for time off to do the things you enjoy.

    To be helpful – but not to get lost in responsibility.

     

    When my overwhelming feelings come – it is when I lose my life.

    My heartbreaks for me as a child. Where my childhood fun was so often neglected – due to being responsible.  

     

    Now I am learning that the child will not suffer if I play.

    The child will be more than okay.  

    There is another adult who cares.

    I love that I can play and that it is okay.

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    I am responsible for the joy I bring to my life.

    And, I am responsible for when my life becomes unbalanced.

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    There are moments to be responsible for others and then, moments to be responsible for self.

     

    We are the lucky grandparent generation – for we are able to do so many things with our grandchildren – so many adventures and showing them that being old is fun.  We can even make the caring days – fun days. 

    To all the badass grandmothers out there who are going beyond – make sure to ask for days for joy!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • I Celebrate Individual Freedoms

    On this Independence Day, most will celebrate Freedom – and I believe there are many who cannot see beyond their own choices; in religion and love, and I guess politics.  They want to color the whole world so it reflects their own choices.

    Many never have practiced freedom and yet celebrate it like it is something they know intimately.

     

    I wasn't able to know freedom until I knew what not being free was.

    Freedom begins in the mind.

    With our thoughts and beliefs.

     

    For so many years I believed that others needed to change.

    Others needed to do things differently

    Love different,

    Be different,

    Believe different,

    Act different.

    Coming from sameness of being in a conservative cult like religion, I wanted everyone to be the same.

    Same felt right. Different felt wrong.

     

    When so many wave their freedom flags, what they really want is sameness. They don't want US to be free, they want us to be like them. Often many have minds and thoughts/beliefs that will not allow those unlike them to be free.  

     

    It wasn't until I was unlike my old church, that I understood this.

    I was now one that wasn't okay.

    I didn't belong

    I didn't think or make the same choices.

    I was different.

     

    They don't celebrate different or embrace and love different.

     

    Freedom isn't conditional – just as many love with conditions, they 'grant' freedom with conditions.

     

    It feels most awkward this year to be celebrating freedom – when choices are constricted.

    At best it is half freedom day.

    Where males are more free than women in our country.

     

    Christians want their religion to be free – while they put constraints on other beliefs.

     

    I am pretty certain, the more certain you are about your religion and your beliefs – the less you allow others the freedom to believe differently.

     

    So many of us were born into conservative thinking and beliefs, in a male dominated home. Born in captivity and celebrating freedom. Freedom few truly know the meaning of.

     

    The cage is invisible – yet like an iron curtain in their minds.

     

    Practicing freedom means you allow everyone to be free to be themselves, the freedom of choice, voice and action.  Freedom is an individualize way of being. Where power is on the individual – not overruled by a group.

    I had to look up the definition

    "the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint."

     

    So often the ones who are screaming freedom and my body – my choice are the ones trying to restrain others from being free.

     

    The flags many are waving are restraint bands.

    They want to take away rights from others – so their beliefs and religions appear more right.

    The more freedom of choice we have, the more awkward their religion.

     

    While their freedom of religion and freedom of independence seems to be what they want – what they really want is for us NOT to be free.

     

    They want us to fall into line step behind them. To be and do as they do.

     

    If only Independence Day was about independent individuals.

    I have to look up independent.

    ": not subject to control by others : self-governing."

     

    This is freedom.

     

    Those outside of the church and religions, want the freedom from being controlled – we don't want your beliefs.  And yet those inside beliefs are trickling outside – and restraining freedoms.

     

    We don't want to be under the same controls that you all are.

    We want self-governing.

    That is freedom.

     

    If you are in conservative, cult-like, overreaching religion. You don't know freedom at the root level.

    Perhaps what you are cheering for is your church and beliefs.

    But you are not cheering for those outside of it – to be allowed the same.

     

    Freedom isn't just one way.  One right way. One right Church. One right love. One right freedom.

    Freedom includes everything.

     

    I wish we were really celebrating everyone and all choices.

    That is an Independence Day I could celebrate.

    I truly want total freedom for all.

    Individuals who are free – are peaceful, loving and kind.

    For they want for everyone the rights to be themselves.

    No matter how it appears.

     

    The more we allow everyone their freedom, the more empowered each individual would be.  

    When you take away someone's power you are making them less.

     

    What seems like an oxymoron, the more freedoms you give someone, the more powerful they become.

    Today I would love to celebrate the freedoms of everyone – but we are not all free.

     

    Our country may be free from outside rule; but within the country we are losing individual rule. We cannot be a free country when our individuals are not free.

     

    They speak of separation of church and state. We actually need separation from other individuals.

    We need total empowerment on the individual level.

    America is only as free as the one who has the least amount of rights.

     

    The strength of any group is as strong as its weakest member.  

    My freedom allowed the rest of my house to be free.

    We are strong by our individual strengths.

     

    I celebrate individual freedom.

     

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  • You be You; honestly.

    "Do you like these kind of quilts?" I heard a woman say to her friend – as they gazed at a wall where my art hung. "No" she replied.  And the first woman says, "Me neither, another thing we have in common."

     

    What they didn't know is that I was the artist, the woman who was just arranging things in the Gift Shop.

     

    They continued on browsing, visiting, commenting, and just being two women out and about.

     

    As they near the door where I was working, we struck up a conversation – just the usual customer chatter – and the more you visit, the more curious or questions you ask, in the back and forth.

     

    The first woman finally asks me, what sorta art I do.

     

    With a smile on my face and a direct look towards her I say, "The quilts on the wall over there."

     

    She knows immediately – that I know what she and her friend think of my art. They had given me their honest appraisal.

     

    Now, that she knows I am here in living color – the Artist to the Art – she tries to backpedal.

    In the backpedalling, she offers up, she is a retired Art Teacher.

    She offers up a few more things – but to me the most honest was her first response I over heard.

     

    It is funny how we want to soften up our honesty.

    Even in our liking or not liking of Art.

     

    Art is so personal and feeing invoking – that if it doesn't move you – it doesn't move.  No worries. 

     

    I am way way okay with folks not enjoying my art.

    I enjoy my art.

    I enjoy the process.

    I enjoy folks who love it enough to spend their hard earned money on it.

    I enjoy folks who want to bring it into their homes.

    And, I so understand those who feel differently.

     

    I love different art and art that moves something in me. I love when I feel joy and good energy when I see art that has somehow infused feelings inside of it.

     

    I think that there are levels of feelings in art.

    Safe ones and then those who push you to feel more.

    Even if it invokes negative ones. Your art moved them.

     

    The art teacher did offer up to me – she understood the hours of time and effort I had taken me to do what I do.

    I didn't probe their feelings as to why my art didn't move them. I just allowed them, with respect and kindness, to feel what they felt.

     

    I would prefer honesty.

    Always.

     

    She honestly felt something about my art.  

    I respect honest feelings.

     

    Just as I am not for everyone, neither is my art.

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    I love a world of color and contrast and depth the shallows and I love differences.

    I appreciate and love honesty above all.

    I love who I am and the freedom it gives me – and everyone.

    You be you; honestly.

     

     

     

     

     

  • You do not stand alone.

    I stood up for a child.

    My child.

    My 4 children.

    I stood for my siblings.

    I stood for their kids.

    I stood for the little girl inside of me.

    I stood for children everywhere who have been waiting for someone to stand and object.

    For someone to see the monsters in their lives.

    For someone to hear their voices.

    For one ear and one eye show them they are not alone.

     

    I stood alone.

    I stood shaking

    I stood not knowing.

    I stood.

     

    What does this look like in reality?

    What does it take to put a child first?

    What does first really really mean?

     

    I know I am triggered and reacting to the ways some are 'showing' they care for a child.

     

    Here is the deal.

    I am a daughter who nobody stood for.

    I am a member of a church that didn't stand.

    The children in my family and neighborhood and church – had no one stand for us.

     

    And, here is another deal.

    I stood – when I became aware of sexual abuse within my childhood home.

    I stood shaking in horror and disbelief. 

    I stood against my father.

    I stood against my mother.

    I stood against the church who blessed his sins away.

    I stood against the ministers who knew and blessed him too.

    I stood against the neighbors who knew and kept their kids a way.

    I stood against my siblings who supported a father in various ways.

    I stood against my siblings who supported my mother.

    I stood up and walked away.

    I walked away from the excuses, the reasons, the wanting to be part of the church, the family….

    You can't be for a child halfway.

    This IS black and white.

     

    You are either helping the perpetrator or not participating in it.

     

     

    This is what standing for a child looks like.

    You don't get to decide who you stand against.

    You stand for the rights of a child.

    You stand for the innocence of the child.

    You stand for their mental health – for they think they are crazy and messed up – not that their family and church is.

     

    I know I am not addressing the unborn child.

    I am talking about how do you prioritize a child who is living – in your home – in your family – in your church. How are you showing them you stand against abuse and for a child?

     

    Standing by a child isn't just words.

    You can't stand for a child by boycotting companies that support a woman's choice.

    You can't stand by a child – only IF it doesn't require you to lose your faith.

     

    Here is another deal.

    My mother has held on dearly to her faith  -

    Dearly.

    More dearly than how she held a child.

     

    How do I know this.

    I am her child.

    While she quickly defended her faith and her husband.

    She never not once defended me.

     

    Standing for a child was not her way.

    Standing for a child requires you to have nothing placed before them.

     

    What I can't articulate enough is the cost of innocence and what that does to a child.

    We grow up feeling we are not enough, we are not valuable etc.

    We don't know what it feels like to have a warm soft feeling inside about who we are.

    We have been man handled and treated with such disdain by ALL the adults who could have stopped it. So many knew/know and do nothing.

     

    I stood and gave names to the Houghton County Detective.

    But, what could he do.

    I stood and spoke out loud about sexual abuse and estrangement.

    I stood and more are now standing with me.

     

    Yet, they are also ones who have left the church and often their families.

    You don't get to stand for a child when it is convenient  - or comfortable or without a personal cost.

    In fact you may lose everything to save one child.

     

    You have to put your own life aside – for the child has to come first.

    My life as I knew it – shattered.

    I would never be the same – thank God.

     

    It was and has been my greatest achievement to have stood up against abuse and stood with the child.

     

    Again I get it – I am talking about children who are already born. Living – and the ones I am talking about are the ones who had no voice.  

    Similar to the unborn the faithful women are talking about.

     

    Perhaps it is much much easier to stand for an unborn child – unknown – detached from your own life and the legacy of church and family – than it would be to literally change the patterns within your own faith community and family of origin.

     

    My old church the First Apostolic Lutheran Church and the offshoots of it – and the lineage pretty much – all share one common theme. Sexual abuse of its youngest members.  And, if the women are not willing and able to be up in arms about them.  There is now way in hell I can see them standing in line to parent the children that may now be born.

     

    In life we can know how things will turn out by past behaviors.

    For past behaviors are predictors of the future.

     

    I am the oldest girl and my abuse happened oh 55 years or so ago.

    I stood up and walked out about 17 plus years ago.

    As I sit here today, very little has changed.

     

    Abuse still happens.

    Silence still echoes.

    Support for the perpetrator still happens.

    Children are not even close to being first.

     

    I often wonder how heaven will be for these faithful women. How they will be able to enjoy paradise knowing the cost of getting there was borne by the children. 

     

    I no longer believe that heaven is when we die.

    And, I know hell does exist.

    But it is here already.

     

    I had to look up Faith. For I was wondering what would shatter theirs.

    "complete trust or confidence in someone or something."

    Since I was them – what I know is that we wholeheartedly believe what we believe, even if what we believe is wrong.  

    My faith shattered when I was able to see a truth I hadn't seen.

     

    It was my innocence.

    When someone saw the monster I felt my father to be. I was set free.

     

    Which is why I keep writing – when I feel there is a gap in the dialogue – when I feel this voice needs to be spoken.

     

    What I know for sure is that if we can stop the cycles of abuse, if each family can start flipping the patterns, we will have less abuse, more love and awareness. 

    The blind faithful will not be the change we need in the world.

    We need women who will stand with the children; let's start with the ones who are already born.

     

    I stand with those who are already standing.

    Who have stood and walked the walk.

    May this trend keep moving and growing.

     

    In these moments where women feel helpless – you are not.

    We need awareness, kindness, compassion, empathy. We need to hold the world in balance.

    We need more love, joy and peace.

    We can be parent we wish we had.

    We can be the adult who knows and stands up.

     

    I stand with those who stood up in their own lives. I know the cost.

    We are badass, strong, resilient, resourceful, courageous, and loving.

     

    I heard on a podcast that humanity always bends towards kindness – the arch as seen in hindsight.

    I have to believe this is true.

    We are part of those pulling things back towards kindness.

    You know who you are.

     

    The counter measure toward injustice will be doing the opposite.

    Pull hard to sway humanity back into balance.

     

    I send loving kindness to those faith full women who know not what they do.

    And I send love and strength to those who are already standing.

    You do not stand alone.

     

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    When I saw this picture it seemed to fit.

     

     

  • Their Own Child

    How many people are aware of things they are wrong about? Most of us were not taught discernment or have the ability to change our minds/beliefs.  

     

    I was raised in a black and white world. I was taught that 'our' church is the only church going to heaven. I was taught that everyone outside of the church was evil.  I was programmed to see the world with a myopic lens.  Very very narrow and completely and utterly wrong.

     

    It was embarrassing and mind blowing and brilliantly thrilling to see how wrong I was.

     

    I am not sure I can articulate the mind I had and how I saw the world. How I saw a father instead of a pedophile, a mother instead of an accomplice, a church of high morals and values instead of a cult that covered up generation upon generation of sexual abuse, physical abuse, and blessed away the truths.

     

    Not only was I not in the 'right' church, I wasn't even in my right mind.  I had been completely brainwashed.

    Why I am writing about this is there are so many 'christian' folks who believe they are dead to right on so many issues that are anything but black and white. They believe that they can see the world and the people in it through the correct lens.

     

    But, their moral high ground – is not filled with morality integrity compassion or love.

    I would have sworn years ago that my mother was a woman of substance, that she would not have tolerated any evil doings.  For the love of God, she didn't allow television, earrings and make-up, swearing, lying and cheating – when we were growing up. She didn't believe in birth control or divorce or stepping out of her faith. The list of sins are long and she abided by them.  She was a christian. She was a member of the First Apostolic Lutheran Church. She belonged and was accepted and she viewed the outside world as worldly, evil and any number of negative adjectives.   And YET.  She was married to a pedophile. Knew it. Covered it up. Helped him. 

     

    There seems to be this really weird compartmentalizing that goes on. 

    Where they have their faith.

    The faith that is unshakable and blocks seeing any evil INSIDE of the religion. Inside of their homes. But the outside oh man the wrong doings they can see.  AND the judgement on those folks.  

    They literally cannot see how backwards they see and how it has dire consequences for the innocent children in their charge.  

     

    Many of the conservative christian women have given up the rights to their own bodies.

    In some little ways and then in life altering ways. They are controlled and don't know it.

     

    These closed minded folks believe THEY should be the ones deciding things.

    Based on what???

    Years and years of living in a small tight circle of likeminded folks – being controlled by the elders?

    Who have sat in judgement and condemned those who live differently.

    Folks who have not been able to see themselves from the outside looking in.

     

    I only knew how backwards I was, when my world flipped upside right.

    The world wasn't backwards, I WAS.

    I cannot emphasize this enough. I WAS WRONG.  

     

     

    What I know to be most true is the feelings I had towards myself and others while IN the church and the how my feelings change after leaving.

    The night and day difference is mind shattering. Literally. 

     

    While they may feel love, compassion, joy and peace IS in the conservative church and that forgiveness of sins IS the only way to heaven and being in the one right and true church, it is all fear.

    Fear of the outside.

    Fear of sins.

    Fear of the body and it's connection to the devil (we were told)

    Fear of hell

    Fear of not following, conforming, not being part of.

    The list of fears are endless.

     

    There are grown ass adults who won't leave – due to the shunning.  They are not staying in because of LOVE, they are in the church out of fear of finding out there is no love when you leave.

    If these religions were based on love.  

    Love is freedom.

    Period.  

    They would not want to be in charge of making choices for anyone. Period.

     

    Love doesn't have conditions.

    Love honors truths.

    Love doesn't control.

    Love allows others to be who they were born to be.

    Love lets each person walk their own walk – knowing we don't know what is in their hearts.

    Love doesn't take their power away. 

    Love empowers.

     

     

    The only church I have found that can embrace my wide open heart and mind is nature.

     

    When my world was falling a part. I no longer fit into my family of origin and the old church members began to shun me. I was fully accepted and embraced by the sunshine, the earth, the trees; nature.

    My nature matched it.

     

    My imperfections were perfect.

     

    What I want women to know is your choices is yours.

    Your journey is yours.

    Your heart knows what it knows.

     

    Empowered women, empower women.

     

    If this reversal shows anything, it will show the narrow cold hearts of so many christians.  It is through narrow eyes and fear full hearts they see the world.

     

    My question is, who is on the right side of this? Who has the most open mind and heart? Who walks with compassion and will hold up these women who find themselves in circumstances that few will know unless they walked there.

     

    I don't believe folks can make laws/rules etc until they have walked in those shoes.

     

    I know many conservative faithful women are standing in righteous contempt and believe to the depth of their souls they get it and are voting for a life.

     

    I am also quite sure there are leagues of women who have blessed away sins of sexual abuse of a child – and think they are child advocates. Really.  

    I know from my experiences, women of my old church who will stand against abortion; but cannot, will not, stand against the men who are hurting children. They can't stand for the children in the congregation – let alone an unknown, unborn child.

     

    I have spoken to many over the years who know someone in their family is committing sexual assault on children – but the only thing they get from our conversations, in the end – is that I am trying to get them to leave the church, to put down their faith and they won't.  

    I am not.

    I am trying to get them to see that a child's innocence may be worth more than their faith. They disagree. The conversations stop.

    They will not leave the church. 

     

    How can they stand for up for a child. AND, one that is outside of their church?

    Come on.  We are all soiled evil unbelievers -and I am worse I left. 

    I know this is off the subject. But, what I want to share is how backwards their minds, hearts and beliefs are.  AND, these are the ones who are saying they stand for a child.

    No they don't.

    They stand for their faith. Period.

    It only sounds christian like to stand for a child.

    But, if you won't stand for yours, how will you stand for one outside of your faith.

     

    I know this is a long and rambling post.

    But I have no faith in the women of faith.

    The women who put their faith before anything. Anything even their own child.

     

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