Category: Uncategorized

Aging is an adventure and I know I am privileged to experience it – and it looks to be an interesting ride.

 

In my experience, you only age outside – I still feel the same inside, the me that I know -isn't aging.  However when I catch myself in the mirror – oh my she has changed.

 

I want to be the one who ages gracefully who appears delighted with the lines and wrinkles, who is unfazed by all the aging markers – who lives and loves and dreams in youthful ways.

 

What is interesting is that I lived most of my life separated from my body – in my mind.

I was schooled to believe that the body was sinful – it would lead me astray.

Yet it was through my body I found reality and truth and Me.

My body led me back to my authentic self.

 

My body is an instrument that is finely tuned – when I paid attention to its subtle and often not so subtle messages, it lead me to inner love and peace.  The mind – well – for now my mind is at rest.

 

As I witness the aging body and how it starts to limit some activities or perhaps the speed of which I used to move – and again how shockingly unlike me it looks – it feels like I am entering a new phase.  One where I now have to get used to this new me. The Old Me.

 

Old me – has been arriving for a few years now.  

I want to feel comfortable with old me – and I guess with time I will be.

Age feels like you become a different self.

Not bad – but not your old younger self.

Letting go of who you used to be.

 

If you live long enough you will go through many life transformations.

This old version so far has been interesting.

I am grateful that for the most part I am healthy and I can do what I love – just slower.

Going slow is not a bad thing.

I feel like I can be more present – and patience is my friend.

 

I am hoping for a good long adventure into aging and that I can gracefully accept the changes, I can't change.

 

Mostly, aging is an opportunity to love longer and share life with those you love.

How the body changes is the least interesting thing about age. What is more is how we navigate the change and how we find ways to live that make living the wild journey that it is. 

The phrase, "Live like you are dying" means more now. I feel the sand disappearing down the hourglass. But mostly I feel that I want to live in this moment in time and not let it slip away by being unaware.

 

The body as it ages, it can and most likely will change the way I live. I am hopeful that I will adapt and accept its limits. Live within the limits and stretch them as far as they will go.  And to love the image in my mirror.

 

I know many who love changing into the image of their moms. Seeing me lean into her image startles me.  I don't like seeing her in me.  We are not twins; but there are enough similarities to bring her to mind.

It is harder to accept the image that looks like her.

Acting differently than her, loving differently than her, living differently than her – I am different in all the ways that count. This will help me to accept our image.

 

Embracing my old image and learning to be come familiar with her.

What I want most is to play as the old lady. To be her and move through this old age phase unfazed.  

 

Oh and remember when you were little and you used to say, "I can't wait until I grow up and I will be able to do whatever I want."  Well, I am thinking the years after 65 are those years. Our mothering duties are done, we are free from employment, the world, as they say, is our oyster.  Time to play in my old lady years!

 

This is one of the first holidays I can remember – skipping – more or less.  I am cooking a dinner for my husband and myself; but there is not the houseful of family gathering this year. 

 

In the past I have heard others speak of 'skipping' a holiday – of just treating it like a regular day.  And, at the time I thought, that even if you didn't participate, you would still feel the holiday.  

 

Today however, without company coming over and us just being here, doing what we typically do – there was no holiday.

 

This can be helpful for those who are set back during the holidays – due to family complications or death and grief etc.  You truly can skip it.

 

In the years since I met my husband, we have not missed a holiday. Even when my first born was 6 days old, we traveled to attend Thanksgiving with family.  And we have never had one holiday alone – this feels different – but not in a bad way.

 

I am okay with family being here and I love that we are okay with them not being here.

 

I believe you are the creator of the holiday. You can make it big or very small – or skip it all together.  I love that you can skip it.  

 

What I thought when I was out for my walk. The holiday is all in our heads and traditions and perhaps memories. But today, was a day.  Just a day. We added the 'special' to it.

 

And often that "special meaning" adds lots of angst.  For with it comes family.  The pasts, those passed and even the quandary of those estranged. But a normal day where you do what you love, take a nap, do more of what you love, go for a walk and make dinner – it seemed like I was more present in my day.

 

If you find the holidays are for the birds, you can skip it!

 

I just finished Kerry Washington's Memoir "Thicker than Water".  The main theme of the book is honesty – or perhaps the lack of it growing up.

 

In listening to her story, there were moments that helped explain me to – Me.

 

In families, and particularly in the relationships between parent and child – a child feels the space where the lies live.  We may not be able to articulate what is missing – but we more feel – what is not there.

Truth has a solid spaceless feeling.

 

In truth our body relaxes.

 

Lies leave us without anything to hold on to or feel secure with.

 

It explains so much about my lack of connection. It was like I was adrift – before I actually became estranged.

 

I wasn't able to love the space where lies lived.

And I blamed myself for not loving – for not feeling the closeness and warm feelings.

 

She wrote about how her mother, once the truths were spoken, was able to look deeply into her eyes.   

 

This.

 

I remember how hard it was to keep eye contact with my mother.  Both on her end and mine. I am sure this was normal in our home, the not looking looking.

 

Don't they say that eyes are windows into our souls.

 

I am aware of how my denial of my own truths, had effects on my relationships.  And more, how when I allowed myself to be with my truths, how it changed me.

 

The secrets, the abuse and even the denial – all left me in a very untethered unknowing place. Both about the secrets and yet mostly about me.

 

You can't know who you are – without truth.

(I understand these quilts more now.)

 

When I try to go back to who I was back then I don't have a clear picture.  But I was living without knowing the secrets or that even I kept secrets.

 

Oh, and one thing that Kerry talked about is – when her parents kept secrets, it also made her keep secrets.  Like the truth wasn't welcome there.

 

Interesting to be raised learning how to keep your truth quiet.

 

Her mother protected her with lies and she protected her mother with lies.

But lies do not build relationships.

Folks often keep secrets, thinking they will save the relationship, and what they are actually are doing is destroying it or not giving it a chance to grow.

 

I am thinking it isn't even the lies themselves, they are huge – but what matters more is empty space or hole it creates. And the weird way we learn to leave the truth out of relationships.

 

The effect this has on children who try to grow and love among lies – is immeasurable. 

 

When I look at the environment I was raised in and how truth was scarce between myself and my parents, I see its costs.

 

The one two punch of abuse and lies – left me in a very precarious place to grow.

 

Her book also explains to me how truth means so much now.

Why I feel so strongly.

 

It isn't the secrets themselves that are so damaging, which they are. But how it is impossible to have a good relationship while they are hidden.

 

This may not make sense to anyone – but it sure has put in another puzzle piece for me.

In how I was built so awkwardly in the land of secrets.

 

I love when I find another puzzle piece – which helps me understand why I was the way I was – and how I grew that way.

 

We grow like the environment we live in.

 

I could weep for my child self.

And how she tried so hard – how the world was set against her from the very beginning.

There was no way I could have come out normal and natural – from whence I came.

 

Yet, I am so humbled at where we landed.

 

I am okay living with the need for truth and authenticity.  I love folks who hold no secrets.

Those with secrets will feel my distance – and I am okay with that.

 

I love her title, "Thicker than Water" for we all know the common phrase blood is thicker than water.  What I know is that families who harbor secrets are families with watered down relationships.

 

 

The mask we often wear is to keep the secret from being known.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ghosts from my past can walk up at anytime and say hello. They can ask how I am doing and then go for a swim. They can lay on the beach and read for hours near me.

 

It is all curious.

 

Curious we are sisters.

 

Living worlds apart.

 

Very close today.

 

Completely different.

 

Other relatives swam – I didn't recognize them.

 

A beautiful beach afternoon – overcast with memories.

 

Sunshine, warm sand, clear water – two strangers now.

There is much unknown.

Her path and mine.

 

I don't know hers.

She can't know mine.

 

Words that could fill the lake – would leave us both exactly where we are.

 

Estranged.

 

The little wave – when we first recognized each other – would have been enough acknowledgement for me.

 

I am curious – but not really wanting to engage.

 

So, it was shocking to hear a voice come up along side of me – saying Hi.

 

The pleasant niceties lasted a minute or two.

 

I wonder what propelled her to me.

 

Being kind?

We both brought family with us to the lake.

Our chance encounter – wasn't like we 'wanted' to meet. That she sought me out – but once I was in her line of vision – she approached.

 

Not the time for deep investigating into her world – into her choices and how were they working.

 

Comparing – maybe our lives.

I would have questions – how would she answer.

Who is she now?

I wonder if her denial is deeper – or are there cracks starting to show.

 

I wonder what she saw as she looked at me?

 

Mostly I watched two girls play, giggle and have the best day.

I sat there grandma – grateful of my choice to be estranged.

Grateful for the separation.

Hand stitching on a quilt.

Sun warm on my body.

Waves in my ear.

My heart at peace with my choice.

 

The ghosts of my past were on the left of me – and on my right the future.

Her innocence is worth the distance I have walked from my family of origin – worth feeling the awkwardness of a stranger we once knew.

 

Sitting there I felt my age or maybe more, my wisdom and empowerment – my strength.

 

The day changes with these encounters – they leave an essence on me – a brush with the past – a lingering of wonder.

 

I would love a real deep dive into the truths of our lives.

And yet it would be horrifying.

 

I wonder if she would have sat to have an eye to eye – heart to heart chat?

 

Perhaps if we were alone.

 

I wonder what she'd really want to know about me?

 

Lately nieces have asked to be my friend on Facebook and Instagram. An easy way to approach someone – a distant relative.  I wonder what the nieces would like to know about me?

More, I wonder what they have been told. 

 

I am the oldest girl in this family of women.

An odd character – I left before some of them were born – or just little babies.

They have always known me as the odd man out.

The old aunt who doesn't come around.

 

Part of me would love to know their hearts and yet my heart probably couldn't bear it.

 

The reason for my estrangement comes front and center. The power that propelled me was abuse – my heart knew it couldn't be with those who could see the side of the abuser(s) more than the child.

 

Sitting on the beach today two sides were there.

We both stood on different sides. 

Between us years of silence.

 

A photograph of the beach scene today – would not reveal all the interconnected disconnected strings of relatives – together on a beach separated.

 

All I know is that if any woman/girl in this relative pool asks me why I am out here – my heart will be at peace – for I can fully own my choices to be on this side of history.

The girls who walked away.

 

Girls who found their self-worth.

 

Girls who left trying to end the cycle of abuse.

 

Girls who felt the truth in the bodies that never lie.

 

Girls who left family – to save family.

 

 

I see the relative girls and I wonder.

Wonder what has been communicated and what stays silent.

Wonder if I spoke – would I be heard.

 

As I go to bed tonight – my heart and soul are peace with the road I am on.

I can't know how the women relatives sleep.

 

I wonder if one day I will have a heart to heart with one of them.

I hope one is curious as I am.  Who wants to know about the family tree's outcast and why her limb is different.

Today I didn't feel the shame or negative feelings of being different.

Being different today feels like a fun piece of art.

A freedom of expression.

Perhaps like an eccentric aunt.

 

An odd caricature in the circle of women relatives.

 

They say the best thing a father can do for his children –  is to love their mother.

 

My husband didn't have the easiest of roads.

 

He and I didn't know my past, and when it was revealed – he could have easily cut bait and left.

 

He not only choose to stay – he learned to love the new me – along with me.  

He was willing to lay our marriage down – and to work instead on ourselves – to find our best versions.  To work with the concept that the marriage is only as good as the people in it.

 

My breakdown was the worst and hardest thing we experienced together – and yet it has been the most rewarding to see how truth and being ourselves has allowed us both to relax and love without conditions.

 

Love is easy – when it is kind and beautiful looking.

Love is so much harder when things go sideways.

 

What I recall is not knowing who I was – and how I could not go back to being blind – and yet I had zero ideas of who I would ultimately become.   And more than all of that – I had the space in my marriage and my home to become.

 

He did not put any rules upon me.

 

He and I both allowed the old me to die and the new me to be born.

He not only accepted my truths, he loved me with them.

He loved my wounds.

 

I felt that my family of origin only wanted the old blind complacent forgiving boundary-less person. They had zero interest in or engaging with my new awareness and truths.

 

The juxtaposition between how my husband engaged with me – compared to them – is so completely vast – there is no common denominator.

 

On this one little and gargantuan way of loving me – changed the content of our home.  In how he accepted me – as me – wounded and unknowing who I was – also set the tone in accepting others.  He has shown me it is not only okay to be myself – it is something to be celebrated.

 

This.

 

This is what I celebrate in great fathers.

Fathers who love their wives.

Are faithful, kind, loving, respectful, hardworking, hard loving, fun and forever curious —- the list goes on.

 

I know how lucky my children are – for he loves them the same.

He allows them just to be themselves – and LOVES them as they are.

There is nothing he needs added – for him to love them more.

 

Our family has love – boundless love because of this man.

 

Unconditional love – no rules – freedom to be love.

 

He has a happy Father's Day every day.  

He makes being a father look easy.

Being a grandpa a piece of cake.

For what he truly does best is just allow us all to be.

 

What I also love about him – is he is always himself.  He doesn't change – he is what you see – there is no mask.  He is unabashedly himself – always.  He is his own man – he follows his own north star.  Just being so content to be himself – has allowed me to settle into being Me.

 

This love.

 

Is the love that is our legacy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We traveled down so many beautiful roads and loved seeing what was around each bend.

By the time we made it home, we had traveled almost 5,000 miles.  That seems unreal to me.  And, I didn't drive once.  My husband prefers to drive and I navigate with an old fashion road atlas on my lap. 

We also use the phone and car navigation.  I can't imagine now how we did it with just road maps.  But we like to have the atlas with us to see what is in the area etc.

We spotted wild life right away – as we started down Needles Highway.  As you can see there was snow there too – and the road was closed 6 miles from the fun part – where there are tunnels.  

Lots of cars were driving around – and we all would have liked to have the road open. I believe it was weeks away from being open.  

However the wildlife loop was open so we drove around.

Still the Jackasses mooching from cars.

Just fun to see different animals.

"Custer State Park in the beautiful Black Hills of western South Dakota is full of lush forests, quiet and serene meadows, and majestic mountains. This 71,000-acre state park is also home to over a thousand bison—one of the world's largest publicly owned bison herds."

From here we headed towards the badlands – and miles closer to home.

 

We took a Spring vacation – heading south and west – towards the mountains.

Stopping first to see our two grandchildren in North Dakota.

They were so fun and warmed right up to us.

But first we had to drive through some nerve wracking roads for me.

The pictures don't show the slush and crazy drivers. 11 in the ditch in 198 miles – between Fargo and Bismarck – one landed on its roof.  It made for an intense ride.   I tried really hard to be quiet.  

I now have much respect for the winter winds and snow across the interstate in the Dakotas.

 

But these two!

Oh my gosh it was so fun to spend time with them. They are growing and getting really good on their bikes!

They really love being outside. 

And they were my helpers as we tried to set up the serger's so my daughter can start sewing some fun outfits.

They are lucky their mom takes them outside each day and there are lots of parks and trails there to explore.

We had a girls lunch.  She was so so good!

Her level of focus is incredible.  She is learning to color the picture.

And it was a treat to go in the restaurant – and have ice cream – and this a mini ice cream cupcake.

The boys went to the farm.

 

It was the best – our first stop on our Road Trip.

 

 

 

She hasn't always been sure of love and the sentiments of Valentines.  

It seemed to her it was a made up holiday; one where you forced love upon unloving things.

Hearts were repelling, as was the color pink.

Romantic seemed to be a game in play acting.

 

Until

She loved herself.

 

Now she sees what all the fuss was about.

How it is to celebrate the heart and how it can break and still feel love.

It seems the greatest part of her lives – from her heart.

 

Perhaps being comfortable in her own love of self – allowed her to feel the solidness of love.

 

Whereas before – prior to self love – it was all just a exercise in imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today I sit with the date December 4th and how 18 years ago I began my journey of leaving my family and church.  

I discovered I was brainwashed and how my perception of reality was gravely affected by abuse and a cult-like religion. 

I marvel at what I survived, and more, who I have become.

 

Those early years are imprinted upon my soul.

The depth of pain my heart suffered – leaves me breathless.

 

But what catches my breath even more – is how I was able to walk forward with so much loss and gather into me, love peace and joy.

 

I don't believe I even dared to dream of the beauty that is my life now.

 

The pattern I was hoping I was creating – was a design that was unknown to me.

It grew choice by choice – with a shaky weak voice – that grew in volume.

Bold choice gathered bolder ones.

 

My life has such depth and breadth.

The early years were the hardest – to get the pattern started.

It was foreign and I was a stranger to myself.

Hoping for a better life for the generations who would follow me, I blindly set forth to create something from the ashes of my past.

 

First though, I had do it for me.

I had to know what love was, how peace felt and to experience joy.

I learned love by mothering the little girl inside of me.

When she was calm – it was my peace.

We learned about joy.

 

Often these came after making a tough boundary.

I guess I would drop the Often.  

Creating boundaries literally changed my life and set in place a new pattern.

 

I have been building this pattern now for 18 years and I love the tapestry it has weaved together.  The way the dark moments bought me brilliant clarity. The very things I thought would break me – delivered to me strength and empowerment.

 

My journey is colorful and heart wrenching beautiful. Today I celebrate the brilliant pattern of complex simplicity of being truthfully me.

I have lived two life patterns.

One I was following the generations who came before me.

In the second, I took the road untraveled.

 

On the untraveled road I broke trail, I made mistakes, wrong turns and false starts. I felt lost, alone, vulnerable, scared, and often hopeless.  Turning back was never the answer.

I knew who followed me.

I also felt empowered, strong, connected to myself and the universal energy of love.

 

I grew to trust my instincts and to honor my feelings.

On the new untraveled road I discovered me.

 

I am very grateful and content to be who I am. I am okay on the untraveled road now.

I am used to being different.

I am okay estranged.

My family wounds are faint upon my heart.

My heart now holds so many new and wonderful experiences, loves and friendships.

 

I am no longer a stranger in a strange land.

Rather I feel at home on the untraveled road.

 

 

I have listened to this podcast a few times and appreciate hearing other families talk about how their personalities were formed in survival and how that impacts their lives when they are older.

What I loved the most is how to stop shame.

That in order to end the cloud of shame - normalizing is the fix.

 

I have been talking about this – repeatedly to different folks in conversations.

How IF everyone spoke about the 'imperfections' in their lives – we'd all feel more normal.

We tend to hide things we feel 'ashamed' about.

 

I had to look up the definition of shame.

"a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior."

 

Wrong or foolish behavior.

 

What is the right and sensible behavior in responding to dysfunction, abuse etc.

 

We are not taught what is a normal response and yet we are expected to act normal in an abnormal environment.

 

This looks like living your untruth.

We can't act or respond in truth – we have to live as if everyone is fine – when everyone is so not fine.

 

This edict isn't negotiable.

We are born into a family of pretenders and believe and trust the lie.

 

The feelings of being shameful – are subconscious and maybe not.

It seems like I knew something was off, but didn't know it wasn't me.

I thought I was off.

I was not normal.

I couldn't love or feel closeness.

 

The part in the podcast where Brene speaks of not being part of the family struck home to me.

She was the protector, she was the one who took care of her siblings. She wasn't a sibling.

I too played that role.

I wasn't the parent and I wasn't the child – I was acting as the man in between and so responsible I couldn't let my hair down to have and be fun.

 

I didn't know then that this wasn't normal or that it was normal for a older child to step out of being a sibling to try and help.

 

Yet how much help can you actually do, when the parents are the ones harming your family?

 

My mother would say I was wise beyond my years – or so responsible – and what I wanted most was for her to be wise, for her to be responsible, and let me be a kid.

 

I was born into a family of shame – where the behaviors were wrong.

I wasn't wrong.

I was wronged.

I had nothing to be ashamed of.

 

Recently or I should say Presently – I have my art and my words hanging out in public.  Many have commented on my ability to share all that I do.  

And the main reason is I no longer feel shame.

I no longer feel deeply that what I am doing is wrong.

I do feel that a wrong has happened; but not by me.

 

And, I also feel it is extremely helpful for me to share my experience without shame.

For that will open the space up for another to do the same.

We need to normalize speaking up and sharing.

Normalize even the struggles of doing so.

That it is possible to find and live your truth and be in joy.

 

I love sharing my art, but my real passion is sharing my story – to normalize it.

The stigma of abuse has caused enough angst and heartache to last many generations.

The hardest thing to undo is the lies about yourself.

 

We tend to believe we are not normal after abuse – instead of that abuser not being normal.

When families are silent about the abusers, and make them 'normal' and hide their abusive behaviors and tendencies, the child then feels they are not normal.

And, they have no place to respond or be responsible in how they and their bodies want to respond.

Especially if the abuser is family.

 

There is simply no place for you to bring your truths in a family circle who is pretending the abuser is still a father and husband.  You then have to act/pretend all is well. And we are made to feel shame IF we choose to act in a right way and not uphold the wrong doing as normal.

 

I am not sure I am articulating this correctly.

But, my mind is clear in that when a child's wounds of abuse are not seen and heard – and the abuser is unaddressed and allowed free rein – we are made to feel we are shameful and wrong – not that our family home has parents doing wrong.

 

In Alice Miller's books she was right about how it is crucial in seeing our parents in the reality of what who they are – in order for us to heal our childhood wounds.

She isn't doing this to put parents down – but to raise children up.

 

Whether you agree or not agree about who my parents are and how 'good' they are or that they did their 'best'.  What matters most is how their lives made us feel about ourselves. Whether we were allowed to have a childhood with someone who was responsible to keep us safe and make us feel love.

 

What I know, in my heart of hearts is that the shame is theirs to bare.

The children were innocent when they came into their world.

And, I myself was not responsible to save them.

I was a child – yet made to not be a sibling.

I felt responsible; but not in control.

 

Normalizing that it is normal coming from whence I came.

 

My focus has been on reclaiming the little girl who could have been.

In being with me.

Being me.

Loving me and life.

Normalizing this journey so others can live without shame.

 

What I love about the clothesline quilts are how they seem to neutralize the stigma of airing your dirty laundry.  How my storyline quilts are out on display – but you feel the beauty in my journey – as well as the effects from abuse.  More clothesline quilts to come…