I M Perfect lady

Category: Life’s Celebrations

  • His Daughter to Live hers Well.

    Dates on the calendar can stir up memories – a glimmer of significance to the day. My father would have turned 96 today – he’s been gone now 13 years – but he was gone for me long before that time.

    It is different when you lose someone you were already estranged from – and your memories are tainted by his worst deeds.

    What I don’t have are heart felt memories – or sadness that he’s gone. It is a void where a father should have stood.

    So a date arrives and it is unusual with its significance- a day that used to be – and his life it feels was one that brought pain.

    I don’t follow the news, but there are many who do – and many who feel the angst of all that is going on. I don’t have answers for the multiple things that are wrong – but what I do know is that within my family of origin when all seemed lost – what I focused on was what I could do in my small corner of the world.

    I could gather Love, Peace and Joy.

    I wasn’t changing the devastation my father’s life did.

    I wasn’t changing the lives of those who suffered – I couldn’t.

    But, I could affect change in my small circle. I was able to use my life to live the opposite. I live with intention and keep as much love, peace and joy in my world.

    There are things we have influence over and there are millions that bring stress – and where we can do nothing.

    I believe if each of us sought out more of what we love, what brought joy and held peace, the world would tilt in that direction.

    I knew if I focused on my father’s deeds and the suffering and pain he sowed – I would have shriveled up and died inside.

    When I vowed to not let him define my life – I turned towards a new direction.

    It wasn’t easy at first – it felt awkward to turn away from so much bad – to seek instead the things that warmed my heart. Over time the new habit became my life.

    Even today as so much is upside down and backwards in this country – I still center myself on the choices I can make to bring love and light to my little world.

    It is during the darkest of times, we need more art – in all categories. We can send waves of positive energies out into the world each day by what we spend our days doing.

    Perhaps in honor of a life so wrongly lived – it is a must for his daughter to live hers well.

    Art is a sanctuary for my troubled mind- or when my left brain is stressed. There is joy letting the right side play.

  • Being Me

    December 4th is a date that I most likely will always remember – the day that reality slammed into me and changed my world forever.

    The day when a child spoke up that my father had sexually abused her.

    I believed her.  

     

    That moment in time – flipped my world right side up – and all that I knew – was no more.

     

    Who I was that day – and who I am today – are light-years apart.

     

    It was a day that broke my denial and made me aware of how upside down and backwards I was – a functioning dysfunctional.

     

    So, the twenty year anniversary is more about me and my evolution than it is about anything else.

    I lost a lot. There were things of my old life that no longer worked in my new awareness.

    Things I had shoved down – came up.  

    People I had no boundaries with – now have boundaries.

    Unexpressed emotions from the past rushed in to be expressed.  I used my voice even if my legs were shaking. I grew up each time I spoke a truth others didn't want to hear.

     

    Who I was and how I lived – made sense – coming from whence I came.

    The piece of the puzzle – being abused by my father- was key to know – it explained a lot about me.  I am grateful for the piece – I was missing. It completed me.  My life made more sense with abuse in my past.  I understood me and my dysfunctional ways

     

    The remnants of that old life are few and far between.

    I am the person now – I needed when I was a child.

    I like who I am and what I stand for.

    I am without a family(of origin) and faith – and yet my life is full.

     

    While I lost a lot – I gained more.

    My whole life opened up that day and all the ugly was present – but so was the potential of so much good. 

     

    I would not be eager to go and do it again; but I would to get to where I am today.

     

    There is a lot of grief that lives in my heart – and for the most part it is soft and in the background.  I am okay with it riding with me.  It is a reality of my life.  

    My heart though has expanded and grown – both with the deep sorrow and knowing the truth – and loving my wounded self and encouraging her to grow. 

     

    What these past 20 years have taught me is that we are all on our own path and it isn't my responsibility to eradicate all the abuse – but to live a life that reflects my own morals and values.  Each of us are on the side of history that mirrors our character.

     

    Twenty years later I know peace, love and joy.

    Twenty years later I understand more deeply the price you pay to live your own truth.

    Twenty years later I am a peace with who I am.

    Twenty years later I am still a lover of realty and accept what is.

    Twenty years later I am still learning and growing and becoming.

    Twenty years later is a great start in being Me.

     

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  • Consequences of the Choice

    “Cycles exist because they are excruciating to break. It takes an astronomical amount of pain and courage to disrupt a familiar pattern. Sometimes it seems easier to just keep running in the same familiar circles – than facing the possibility of jumping -and not landing on your feet.”  It Ends With Us.  Colleen Hoover

     

    "It Ends With Us" is a work of fiction based loosely on her mother's experience.  

     

    When you are born into a cycle that holds abuse – and you don't change the pattern, you are bringing your children into that same cycle.  My childhood love allowed bad behaviors.

    There is a point where you are given a hard choice – to do something different or just go along not making waves.

    The cycle you are born into wasn't of your own making – however – when you recognize the pattern is about to be repeated with you – you decide to carry on – or to stop.

     

    Stopping is not in the family's legacy in most abusive cycles.  It will require great courage to abruptly stop.

    I don't think most understand what it takes to end the cycles and legacy of abuse. 

    It isn't words spoken or truth exposed. 

    Creating a new cycle is more about self responsibility.  To see the cycle you are part of – and your hand in it – and then determining how it will go from you.

    Will your children see you repeat your mother's pattern.

     

    My mother's role in the cycle of abuse, was to forgive it away – and then carry on as if the abuse WAS gone. She blindly and repeatedly forgave, again and again and again for decades.  Even IF she wasn't the one abusing, She was the one allowing it to go on – by simply not breaking the cycle of forgiveness.

     

    I know forgiveness sounds kind.

    Compassionate even perhaps.

     

    But forgiveness without action of distancing your self and your children from an abuser, is not kind. It is to be an accomplice.

     

    There was a moment in my life, where the cycle became crystal clear to me – I saw myself in the cross hairs of the truth and where my mother's reactions and mine had diverged.  

     

    Something inside of me merged with the truth and I was unable or even unwilling to let it go. In that moment a new cycle began. I didn't wipe the truth away with forgiveness.

     

    Her cycle overlooked the child and their wounds.

    My new cycle was to see the wound and who did it – and set up boundaries.

     

    It comes with a cost.

     

    And a reward.

     

    The cost is to be in a cycle that is different from my family of origin. Who have continued on – forgiving – showing other abusers that they have nothing to fear.  Our family cycle was to turn a blind eye to the abuse and focus instead on family.  Loving them – no matter what.  No boundaries are set against bad behaviors, criminal or otherwise.  

     

    Forgiveness was how my family cleaned up its messes.

     

    The cost of forgiveness is for the child to bear.  The abused child carries the weight of pain and grief.  Wrestles with holding on to love – where love is hurting.

     

    A new cycle begins when you decide no more.

    When you remove yourself from the flow of familiar.

     

    The excruciating process is when you step out – you are stepping out of family.

    Most will not clap for you and cheer you on.

    It seems insane, that you will have to traverse alone out of the cycles of abuse.

     

    You are going against familiar and truly not knowing if the new way will land you on your feet.  Or are you going from the frying pan to the fire.

    You can't know, until you are far far into your new cycle, if you achieved your goal.

     

    In reading her book, it made it clear the emotional and heart wrenching task it is to break the cycles. Which is why very few do.  It is a lonely road.  

     

    Labor Day weekend has become a reunion of sorts for my family of origin. Rumor has it this year it came with the spreading of my mother's ashes.  

    An ending of an era – it would seem.

     

    She has left her pattern downloaded in many.

    Her cycles continue on.

     

    If I look at my life from the vantage point of her family – mine is desolate.

    However when I see me in my new cycle – it is bountiful.

     

    My children now have choices of my old cycle or my new.

    It isn't up to me to choose.

     

    My part was jumping – and figuring it out as I go.

    Using my body, heart and soul to decide what is an environment where children will be safe. 

    I have boundaries.

    and love that doesn't come with pain.

     

    I understand the cycle of forgiveness – for you get to keep family.

    I understand the cycle of boundaries – you lose family.

    But the cost of forgiveness within families where abuse happens – continues to create new victims. Sadly, in our case small children.

     

    My life's work is to continue on creating a new pattern – knowing it will impact the generations after me. 

     

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    Each of my children also will find themselves at a cross road and will get to decide which road they take.  What their own legacy will be.  

    We are all free to choose, but as they say we are not free from the consequences of the choice.

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • May She rest in Peace.

    There is a humming in the backdrop of my life – a ghostly echo from the past. Most often nowadays, it is barely perceptible – and then voices come in.

    Words carrying the wishes, for the lack of a better word, from my estranged mother who is actively dying.

    When my answer is different than her wants – it appears that I have turned judgmental.

     

    "Hopefully you are never judged by people who never walked in your shoes." A brother.

     

    If and unless, I do her bidding, then I am seen as judging her.

    Is it judging to want to do something opposite of her wants?

     

    Others seeing me as judging her – based on my opposite choices – has always confounded me. For I don't feel that I am in judgement – in fact, I am more concerned about how my choices affect me – inside – and how they sit right with what I know my truth and reality is.

     

    I had to google, What motivates people to judge someone, just to see what came up.

     

    "As with projection, feelings of inadequacy tend to be closely related to insecurity, as are many reasons for a judgmental mentality. If someone feels inadequate about something, they may be more likely to mock or belittle others who have a healthier—or simply different."

     

    "People judge others to avoid reckoning with potential feelings of inferiority and shame. Since judging others can never give a person what they really need, they feel like they have to keep doing it. One can choose not to perpetuate the cycle of judgment."

     

    What is interesting to me about this – is that judgment is coming from the lower place of feeling shame and inferior.  It doesn't come from the place of being healthier and more aware of yourself and self-love.  Which of course it wouldn't.

     

    After reading that I wonder who is judging who?

     

    Parents write upon the clean slate of a child.  They will either raise their self worth or lower it.  In my case my slate lowered my worth.  I was eclipsed by their needs.

     

    It has taken me many years to wipe that slate clean, to right if you will their wrongs.  I no longer carry the shame that is theirs to carry.  

    In separating out what actions are theirs and what responsibilities are mine – I began re-defining me.

    I wasn't who they wanted me to be.

     

    In my heart of hearts I do not feel I am judging.

    I am instead making choices based on what feels right for me, what actually will raise my level of integrity.  

     

    What I also know to be true, is that my choices – are not viewed as kind, loving or with a heart.

    I get it.  

    It isn't the right choice for you.

     

    As she lay dying – it doesn't change how I feel inside of me – or want me to make a new choice.  

     

    In the end of the end, I continue to honor our estrangement.  

    For us, it will be a life sentence.

    It was a choice.  A healthy response for me. I found my soul's worth on the outside.

     

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    As they hold vigil close.

    I will be outside.

     

    Two generations of women – each of us are walking our own path.

    We each carry our own legacy and the past littered with a million choices.

    We will reap what we sow and our hearts carry what we love.

     

    She is now a stranger I once knew, and her path, one I used to walk on.

    May she rest in Peace.

     

    "I don't know what's best for me or you, or the world. I don't try to impose my will on you or anyone else. I don't want to change or improve you or convert you or help you or heal you.  I just welcome things as they come and go. That's true love.…" Byron Katie

     

     

     

  • Play

    What if January was the month of acceptance.  The month we made an accounting of all that is – a month of looking deeply into who we are and why.

     

    Often we want changes on the outside – to make the inside happy. Instead of sitting where you are, we want something different.

     

    If I look at my life it is completely on the mark.

    Nothing goes unnoticed.

    And nothing is out of line.

     

    The sugar I eat adds pounds – as it should.

    The miles I walk and bike – add muscle

    Peace often follows difficult discussions – clarity feels like peace to me.

    Accepting what is – is a restful place to be – for the mind isn't tasked to build 'what ifs'.

    Being estranged brings peace and sorrow.

    Living with grief – has brought me deep compassion.

    Loving myself – with full acceptance, allows me to love others the same.

     

    My only desire is to be me – even when that is hard.

    I want to be brave and have courage to always speak what is true for me.

    I want to share feelings – especially the negative ones.

    I love love and am so grateful my heart feels the freedom of love.

    May I continue to live as me, as honestly as I can – even when it hurts others.

     

    Perhaps especially then.

    My own happiness, love, joy and peace has to be first. It is from there I can give the same freedom to others.

     

    This quote came to mind from Byron Katie.

    "I don't know what's best for me, you or the world. I don't try to impose my will on you or anyone else. I don't want to change you or improve you or convert you or help you or heal you. I just welcome things as they come and go. That's true love. The best way of leading people is to let them find their own way."

     

    It may be that my hourglass is now on the side of running low – but I am way more content to be me – and love doing what I love, and being with those I love and find joy and peace with. 

     

    January starts a new year of being you.

    I hope you too can find the courage to be more of yourself, to speak your truths and to make choices that reflect the deepest part of you.

    Have courage to live your joys and do things that make you happy.  Some of us were not taught to play and live a life of joy. Maybe this will be my word of the year Play.

     

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    "Do not wish to be anything but what you are." Saint Francis de Sales

     

  • Celebrate my Badassery.

    It is the eve of 19 years.

    Nineteen years of leaving behind the only life I had known to dare dream of changing the legacy I was born into.

     

    This wasn't a dream of mine.

    The truth fell into me – and once you know – you can't not know.

     

    The woman who began this legacy changing journey was only a seed of an idea.

    I had no role models or anyone to help guide me along.

    My body and I felt our way forward.

     

    We didn't blink or make pretty all the what is – there are in life.

    No matter how the truth presented itself, we accepted it.

     

    Loving what is – as Byron Katie says.

     

    I had to love the shocking, heartbreaking, and the betrayals – from family and friends – and embrace reality.

     

    In the early years this was hard – for I wasn't used to standing shoulder to shoulder with my truths and how reality was.

     

    Coming from a family of child sexual abuse, there are so many truths that are unspoken and unaddressed – and I was now the one speaking the unspeakable.

     

    I would not have dreamed that 19 years later I would still be standing alone outside my family of origin – 13 siblings and one parent are alive and well – and continuing to spin the old family legacy – repeating and repeating.

     

    Like an endless mad musical – barely missing a beat.

     

    I remember in years of past December 4th was a hard date.

    Breaking my heart as I still stood alone.

     

    My heart isn't as exposed or bare – and maybe more love and peace and joy have surrounded it and hold it up.  

     

    I feel grateful.

    Deeply grateful for my journey today. I would not trade it for anything.

     

    I am in awe of where I walked, how long and how alone – and yet fully supported by others – non family that feel like family.

     

    My vision was for the generations behind me – not those who I started walking with. In the early days I could feel the weight of having others step in my footprints.

    Those foot prints had to matter.

    They had to be clear, honest and bold.

     

    My intentions were to stand against abuse. 

    Against those who supported abuse.

    The line to me was clearly seen.

     

    The only way was to walk differently.

    To respond differently.

    To love differently.

    To eagerly welcome all truths and respond in kind.

     

    This woman who sits here today is in awe and has such enormous gratitude to the younger me who set out on this journey, alone, broken and so laid bare. I had no way of knowing I would get to here.

     

    Here being a fuller version of me.

     

    A legacy changer.  A woman who will stand up to family and authority and to lead herself where others feared to go. 

     

    I had to give up the life I had – in order to get the life I could be proud of.

     

    The younger me who sat with the detective – only knew she would stand beside the little girl inside of her. The wounded Me.  It appeared at that time, she was the only one who would.

     

    Those first weeks, months and years were some of my hardest lived.  Yet they also carried with them empowering strength building. 

     

    In denial we deny what is, the truth, and even how we feel or what we want.

    Living a truthful life it is the opposite. 

    Nothing can be denied.

    For to deny is to deny who you are.

     

    On this eve 19 years later, I am who I am there is no denying.

    I am comfortable with the new me and the changes I have made.

    I am curious of where my family is, what they think and how they feel.

    Mostly though, these 19 years later – I think of them less and less.

    My life has filled the holes where they used to be.

     

    I could sit with what I lost – Or I can celebrate what I have gained.

     

    I will celebrate tomorrow. 

    Me

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    And the journey.

    I will celebrate being the woman I needed way back then.

    I will celebrate my badassery.

     

     

  • Branch of the Family Tree

    Family has been on my mind lately.  Perhaps it is family reunions, family trips – and now Father's Day.  

    There are two opposing threads that are tangled in my mind.

    Family and Estrangement.

    They don't coexist together. Like water and oil they don't mix – yet they roll around in my mind.  The desire and longing – with the opposing feelings of wanting distance.

     

    I can't think of family – without thinking of me being on the outside. And how the family circle continues to turn – appearing unscathed.

     

    I almost feel like I was unaware of the path I was taking and what it really really really meant.  That standing up and against sexual abuse within the family meant – being on the outside – losing family members. 

    I don't believe I would have ever dreamed this was possible. I would lose family.

     

    What else I hadn't counted on – was that most of my family would respond differently than I.

     

    I would never have dreamed – we'd all face the same reality and walk completely different with it – based on how we were raised – I would have thought we'd respond the same. 

    Just as we sorta lived the same. 

    And, for the most part they did respond the same – except me.

     

    There is one brother who is an anomaly – he walked for awhile on my path and then turned around and headed back.  This is partly what stirs my mind and thoughts.

    Who was he all along?

    Who was I talking to?

    What was and are his truths.

    How can he fit in both camps – when there is no common denominator between these two paths?

    An outlier among outliers.

     

    It is so interesting during crisis, we see parts of our families characters in a whole new light.  We perhaps get to know them for the first time.

     

    Until we are put the test – our whole character is not revealed. I met myself for the first time – it broke my denial and showed me who was – and more it challenged me to dare stare at reality and than act accordingly.

     

    It appeared to me – the choices were clear – stand with abuse or stand against it.  And I believe they stood with family or against family.  Which is different – they separated the abuse from the family.

    I could not do that.  I wasn't able to separate my father from his abusive behaviors.

    To me, each person came with their actions before their title – mom, dad, sibling.

     

    It appears I was affected differently by the realization my father was a pedophile – I chose to stand against abuse. Even when family was entangled.  I see it as it is more important – not less. 

    I am grateful I am on this path – it just comes with strange and complex musings.

     

     

    In estrangement we have family that are strangers.

    We have memories with strangers.

    Family is a thing of the past.

     

    I have a family on my branch of the tree – but the feelings of being part of where I came from now seems foreign to me – it has been so long.

    My memories of family are tainted by my denial and the abuse.  It isn't even a normal family.  But, I felt that I belonged. I was part of – there was a connection.

    Perhaps another mind game. For in the end the strength of my relationships were very weak. Broken with ease.

    That too is shocking – in how quickly my family relationships crumbled – without a fight.

    They'd say I didn't fight.

    I'd say they didn't fight.

    It was like our relationship was a tiny string not worth fighting for.

     

    So as we sit at the eve of Father's Day – I have nothing when I search for father feelings. It was like I thought I had a dad, but it was just a mask hiding what was really beneath.

    There are no holidays for masks.

     

    It is almost as if, all I got left with was a pile of masks. 

    Family relationships now appear fake – no substance to them, nothing worth fighting for.

    I know there is a little girl inside of me – wishing it was different.

    Wishing for the masks – yet knowing they are not real.

     

    Estrangement is an odd place to live in. You long for what is not there. What was never there. 

     

    What I also know, is that grief of losing your family origin – isn't made up for with having your own family.  It is a loss.  And in my case a huge loss – there are 14 of us plus parents.   And the extended families that flow from each – and each again.  The older I get the bigger the family grows – more strangers called family.

     

    Yet sitting here. I am grateful.

    I am at peace.

    While my mind chews – and spins.  Not as often as before – but it does come back.  Again when family holidays present themselves.  We all automatically go to our family, our dad…. back to the complicated mess.

     

    I can turn and refocus. And celebrate the real men who are fathers. Who love, care, an protect their child. Men worth celebrating and honoring.

    If you have/had a loving father – I wonder how that feels in your heart?

    To look back fondly on your history….

     

    It is like I am afloat – looking toward the future – the past was too fake to keep.

    I am grateful to witness my husband as a kind loving dad and grandpa.

    My son-in-law a kind and loving dad.

    It isn't the same as looking back longingly over years worth of history of loving a dad - 

    But I can celebrate fathers on my branch of the family tree 

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  • What you don’t know.

    Yesterday a woman who had great influence in my life turned 90.  I did not celebrate.

    This woman began programming me as a young child.

    Both in religious ways and codependent dysfunctional ways.

    She created the daughter she needed and I dutifully followed her lead.

     

    As a child I looked up to her and I believed she was a woman of substance and had high morals and good values. I believed she stood against things that were wrong.

     

    I grew up to imitate her.

     

    Looking back on it now – I was her – in that my life was dictated by a strict religion and my body was owned by the church. My mind was controlled by its programming and my spirit or soul lived silently in the shadows.

     

    Nineteen years ago I woke up to a reality that was nothing like our minds believed.

    She wasn't of woman of substance of high morals and values and neither was I.

     

    Reality was her husband was a pedophile and had abused me and many others. She knew and forgave him of his sins.

    My reality held a father who abused me.

    My reality was my mother lacked morals and values – she didn't stand up for the child.

     

    Somehow reality leaked into my mind – while hers remained untouched.

     

    This break in my mind caused us to be on opposite sides. I never found a spot where we could stand and see somewhat eye to eye.  Her mental mind and my open one had nothing in common.

     

    Her remaining in the program or mental mind a few steps removed from reality – allowed me to see who I had been  - how it is to be in denial.

    I had someone to look at to see how mental my mind was.

    Once I knew my mind couldn't be trusted, I began challenging it on every level.

    And reality became my new religion. I trusted what was.

     

    There was a space between my mental mind and me.

    That space grew each time I challenged the mind and found it lacking truth and matching reality.

     

    Unless you have been brainwashed and then regained your faculties, you will not understand.

     

    The contrasts between living a life as a member of strict religious cult and being free- is quite vast. There are no common denominators. No space where we could share overlapping realities.

     

    She had a husband.

    I had a pedophile.

     

    She had a religion with morals and values.

    I had a religion who blessed pedophiles of their sins.

     

    She lived as a programmed mind.

    I was working to free myself from mine.

     

    I began making new choices and trying to rectify the past. More, doing today what I wasn't able to do as a child. Standing up and against abuse.

    Regardless who I had to stand up against. 

    And making choices with different consequences.

    Losing much of what I had – in order to give my children a chance at a different legacy.

     

    Nineteen years ago was our last conversation in person. The last time I was in a face to face conversation. 

     

    I didn't see a woman there that inspired me.

    There was no heart connection.

    No warm feelings.

     

    Even worse than empty.

    She was a mental mind with a body.

     

    Blind to reality.

    Blind to me.

     

    She can only see me when I am compliant with the program.

    I know the strength of her mind and I fear its ruthlessness.

     

    So what do I do on her birthday. 

    A day others celebrate.

    Mostly it reminds me of her – and all I lost.

    These old family milestones – bring into my reality – the longings for family.

     

    Being estranged complicates grief and even the normal family joys.

    I am part of – yet apart from.

     

    I have a history that is mostly lies.

    My fondest memories are tarnished.

    I long for the family my mental mind created.

    Yet knowing it doesn't exist.

     

    She's 90 now.

    I didn't celebrate or acknowledge this day to her.

    I wasn't even going to here on the blog.

    Yet these thoughts and feelings bother me, until I write them out.

     

    I am thinking this 90 milestone and the almost 20 years of estrangement has diminished my volume of hope.  

    In my early years of being estranged and setting boundaries – a part of me believed that there was hope, that if I could leave the programmed mind, so too could others. 

     

    The hope is barely a flicker now – just a spark that ignites for a bit.

     

    While many take for granted the family that stands behind them – the familiar shared experiences and memories that create family.  I am very much aware of its absence.

     

    This.

     

    This is why so many others don't walk way from abusive families. The loneliness and heartache you feel – even if the families you love were all in your mind. They were family.

     

    It does feel like a phantom arm – a part of me – that isn't there.

     

    My healing and focus began with being authentic and truthful with myself and reality. I began from where I woke up.  Intensely looking at my life, my choices, what my voice was used for, who I stood with and why, or who I stood against and why, what were my morals and values, where they truthful, what is love, what is not love, what brings me joy, what do I feel, what do I not feel – an endless searching for answers.  Answers that became the new me.

    The task seemed endless and overwhelming.

    To take a mental mind and use it to challenge itself and make choices outside of the program.

     

    And in doing so, you go against family.

     

    She is 90 and I am 64 – her child.

    The child who has nothing to do with her.

     

    Not even on her 90th birthday.

     

    Some will see me as the bad person here.

    Some will celebrate her.

     

    I stood by the truth of our estrangement and honored it by doing nothing.

    Again.

     

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    This is our relationship now – Estranged – no connection between mother and child.

     

    The feelings of being lovingly cared for by a parent feels alien.  

    A feeling I have never felt.

     

    You cannot celebrate what you don't know.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Sees her Child

    My annual correspondence arrives.

    "Have a birthday doing what is important to you. 

    I treasure the memories of your years with our family.

    You were a great help and I was proud of all you accomplished.

    I am your mother always and my love is forever.

    Hugs 

    Mom"

     

    She pops in every year – a ghost from my past proclaiming her title and love.

     

    Each year it is about how I affected her life, and never about how she impacted mine.  

     

    I don’t even know where to begin to begin to process this.

     

    There is always a little girl inside of me that is wanting to be seen.

     

    She holds treasured memories – of the years that wounded me.

     

    Reading her words without knowing the full story, you would think I left a loving mother behind.

     

    This is what disturbs and unsettles me and confounds my mind. Our drastically different perceptions of our relationship.

     

    Surviving my childhood created a woman who was brainwashed and lived in denial. A woman who was unable to see her own children and their needs.  A woman who sought approval and was a people pleaser.  One who went against the feelings in her body and chose to be a great help in an abusive family.

    A woman who had no idea what love was, how to love – even herself.

     

    The years she treasured – were the same amount of years I lived codependent.

    Years I lived in a cult-like religion – without a voice or a choice of my own body, mind and soul – she treasures years that I see were void of me.

     

    The past 18 years of our separation have been to undo the damage – of all those years. 

    It cost me dearly to be in her family.

    And, it cost me dearly to leave.

     

    However my journey has not been for naught.

     

    My children and grandchildren really will have years they will treasure in homes of love.

    They have parents to feel proud of  - instead of shame.  

    I love that their hearts can be bursting with love.

    It is my hope of all hopes they won't ever have to live the shame of being raised with abuse.

     

    My heart weeps that they will not have to leave their families – and live an awkward life of estrangement.

    They won't have to feel the empty spot where parental love should live.  

     

    They will instead enjoy years of sibling friendship and memories of real treasures. 

    Not memories tainted by abuse and toxic dysfunction.

     

    They will know love, real love, forever love by the actions of family who puts a child's welfare first. A treasured love from parents – that is so unfamiliar to me.

     

    A mother's and father's love protects a child; always and forever.

     

    She speaks of my help and accomplishments in the years I was with her family. She speaks nothing of my years after leaving.

     

    She was proud of me then.

     

    She actually loves a version of me that is no longer alive.

     

    Who I am today – is not someone she knows, loves, or even acknowledges. 

     

    She is a mother to the girl in her mind.

    For that girl – she is her mother always and her love is forever.

     

    But for this me, this girl.  The daughter who walked away – I am invisible to her.

    She is incapable of seeing me and the reasons I walked away.

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    What matters most is – I see Me.

     

    The older I get, the more I realize I am one of the lucky ones.

    I was able to see.  

    You cannot change what you don't acknowledge.

    I am so happy I don't have her legacy – I have my own.

    I am a mother who sees her child.

     

     

  • I love you today.

    Today is also our 35th Wedding Anniversary.  

     

    I don't even know where to begin or how to encapsulate our 35 years.

    The girl I was when we met is so far from who I am today, and yet my husband loved both of them.

     

    Marriage has changed for me in these past many years.

    Or how I see marriage differently.

     

    I think I thought in the early years that marriage came before us.

    That in order to have a good marriage, you focused on that.

     

    What I have come to learn is that the marriage is only as good as the individuals who are in it.

    And, it has to have two willing partners.

     

    Also marriage can either be a prison or open space without limits – the couple decides this or maybe more true, how you feel about yourself matters the most.

    If you are secure in who you are and allow each other to be themselves, there is boundless freedom to be.

     

    About 17 years ago when my world fell apart, our marriage lay on the floor.  I couldn't attend to it – and me.

    And, I didn't know who I was going to be when all the dust cleared – or who I would love.

    So, we began saying "I love you today", it seemed most honest.  Our marriage or our lives became present. We didn't worry about the future – just now.  And in doing so, we focused on our individual truths and the marriage followed.

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    I am not sure I am articulating the fluidness of our space together and the comfort it brings to not have to measure up or keep the same.  The space and organic flow allows for changes and truth. 

     

    All the old standards of marriage and its religious constraints no longer exist.

    What is in its place are two people who love life, being themselves and with each other. 

    35 years later and I love us more.

    I love our love.

    I love and know who I am – which makes it easier to love.

     

    What I love about my husband is he allowed me to breakdown and fall apart and rebuild myself in ways that were strikingly different than who I was before.  He made room for the new me and even more importantly allowed the old me to die.

    I am quite certain that our marriage would have failed – if there were constraints put upon me.

    If he needed me to be the old me – the marriage would have died – and his love would have been conditional.

    Unconditional means – No Conditions.

     

    The best marriages allow you to be yourself and to change when change is required.

    And, we had also gave each other permission to walk away. IF and When we felt we didn't love each other. It would not mean that either of us was wrong or bad – but that our love changed.  What we wanted most is for each of us to be free, to love, or not love, and to go or to stay. 

     

    35 years and counting…I love you today.