I M Perfect lady

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  • Flooded into my Life

    What I find so incredibly amazing is that our thoughts are the main things that separate us.

     

    We all have such similar bodies, which are capable of doing much of the same things, except we are all given unique gifts, talents and individual traits, but the main bone of contention if you will is about thoughts; thoughts that turn into beliefs.

     

    We seldom, if ever, argue about gifted people or talented people, however we do engage in verbal and written disputes about what we each believe.

     

    And these thoughts seem mostly to be owning things a human can’t own or promising things that they have no right to promise, it is seldom about concrete items.

     

    In the past few weeks, the written exchange has been about using words to delete, erase or hide a ‘sin’…

     

    The person doing the ‘forgiving’ has the power to erase it and in doing so promises you entry into heaven when you die.

     

    All this ‘action’ happens in the mind, you could not see this with the naked eye.

     

    Little children have a hard time believing this as well as ‘Mentally challenged’ people, for they need to see an action to believe it or feel it, have a personal in body moment.

    Religion is what we fight about the most and it is something you can’t see, but need to have a strong ‘faith’ in.

    Some may say, you can’t witness God or experience Him, but when I put him up against the rules and ‘beliefs’ of religion he is easily seen and felt.

    It didn’t take faith to see Him… it took awareness.

     

    Religion seems to want blindness, at least in my experience.

     

    The synchronistic events that I have experienced, going deeply into questions probing the answers, to only find them in a book that was set out on a shelf in the library, to having the right person ask to be your friend on facebook, to a perfect comment, a song played on the radio,etc.

    From being still and hear the knowing response from deep within.

    Knowing no one outside of me knew me best.

    To walking in nature… 

    Life is filled with God.

    Religion seems to promise things it can’t deliver.

    God delivers all our intentions.

    It seems when I let go of religion, God flooded into my life.

     

  • I am Lens Free

    When you write your story on a blog you are offering up the opportunity for others to plunge themselves into your story, to come in and walk awhile in your life.

    It is amazing the types of responses you get from others when you display your life on a blog.

    Some come in and bare some of our pain, add bits of wisdom and cheer us on.  These experienced travelers lend us their strength that helps us continue forward.  These cheerleaders are priceless. 

    And the other half or maybe three fourths are out to make our truth into lies by showing us their side.

    What is a lie to one side seems to be the truth to the other.

    That is why there are two sides.

    And the truth stands alone.  However, depending upon which side you are standing on you will look upon it differently.  Very few will face the truth head on.

    What I didn’t know in the beginning is that the reader is made to explore their own lives and feel if what you say is true for them or not.

    That half of writing is reading.

    The reading part I wasn’t paying attention to, for I was the writer part.  I didn’t know how the reader would feel reading what I wrote and I never paid attention to that and still won’t.

    I am not writing for the reader’s ease or comfort or even their understanding.  I am writing for me.  What I am doing is offering a view of my online journal to all who chose to read.

    It validates my life to put it in writing, for I am in a sea of known strangers who can’t seem to understand me, and if I didn’t have this space to connect to, sometimes I would feel like I am disconnected and floating in space.

    I need this connection to anchor me to me.

    You fail to realize how much your life gets anchored by others, until there is no place to hook into. 

    In the beginning it felt like I was the only one who was seeing reality with my view.  I was looking with eyes unshielded and others had these weird lenses that contorted even simple things into complex issues.

    They looked at reality through the lenses of family and religion, and if it didn’t fit that mold, it was reconfigured.

    I took off the glasses of family and religion, setting them aside, and life took on whole different view.

    For the first time I could see life outside of the frames of religion and family.  I could see independently.

    I no longer had to make reality fit into their rules and traditions; instead life got to flow free.

    It didn't have to work for family or for the religion, it just had to be.

    It was amazing and scary and horrific.  To now see what I hadn’t seen with the lenses on.

    I can tell when people read my story with the lenses on or with the lenses off. 

    I am writing without a lens…and can’t help how others see it.

    I just know that you can change my story to say something else if you are wearing the lenses of family or the lenses of the FALC.

    It matters and it will change how you view me.

    But what doesn’t change is how I view myself, for I am lens free! 

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Dark Space of Unknowing.

    Deepak Chopra writes in The Book of Secrets about the caterpillar changing into a butterfly.

    “Outside my window in winter I can usually spy at least one chrysalis dangling from a branch.  Inside it a caterpillar has turned into a pupa that will emerge in the spring as a butterfly. We are all familiar with this metamorphosis, having witnessed it as children (or by reading Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar).  But what goes on invisibly inside the chrysalis remains deeply mysterious. The caterpillar’s organs and tissues dissolve into an amorphous, soup like state, only to reconstitute in to a structure of a butterfly’s body that bears no resemblance to a caterpillar at all.”

    “Science has no idea why metamorphosis evolved.  It is almost impossible to imagine that insects hit on it by chance – the chemical complexity of turning into a butterfly is incredible; thousands of steps are minutely interconnected.  (It’s as if you dropped off a bicycle at the shop to be repaired, and when you came back the parts had become a Gulfstream Jet.)”

    “But we do have some idea about how this delicate chain of events is linked. Two hormones, one called juvenile hormone, and the other ecdysone, regulate the process, which looks to the naked eye like the caterpillar is dissolving into soup.  These two hormones make sure the cells moving from the larva to the butterfly know where they are going and how they are to change. Some cells are told to die; others digest themselves, while others turn into eyes, antennae, and wings. This implies a fragile (and miraculous) rhythm that must remain in precise balance between creation and destruction. That rhythm, it turns out, depends on day length, which in turn depends on the earth’s rotation around the sun. Therefore, a cosmic rhythm has been intimately connected to the birth of butterflies for millions of years.”  Deepak

     

    It came to me today, that blogging the way I do with total transparency is not going to need the same things as those who blog from the cocoon.

    Writing from a cocoon hides what is going on and this is not something I am familiar with.  So I can’t be the one to say what is best for anonymous bloggers.

    But I can speak from transparency. 

    When I began writing I did so with full disclosure, it wasn’t to hide stuff, it was to shed light and to enlighten me, to find answers to who I was, as well as to leave a path for anyone who wanted to know about me.

    I wrote about the dark corners within me that I didn’t know. 

    I asked questions of the white paper and it seemed answers came if I wrote long enough.

    I never felt I had the right to have a voice and writing opened up a space for me to let it out.

    Once I got the knack of it, it seemed that the only way for me to know me was to write it out. 

    The more I wrote the more I knew and the more I knew the more I wanted to know. And slowly I began to really really know me and what I began to learn about me, I didn’t want to cover up nor did I feel the need. 

    Whether it be my mixed up mind, my flipped around thoughts and beliefs or the multiple things I did incorrectly with my backwards mind, all of it became extremely exhilarating for it all was growing a new me.  I wasn’t ashamed of who I was nor who I was becoming to be.

    It was like I was the caterpillar and I was changing and I would grieve the caterpillar parts that were dying and had to grow comfortable with the new butterfly pieces that came in their place. 

    I left my old caterpillar ways…and had to learn how to maneuver life as a butterfly. 

    What I know for sure, for me, is that I need to see me in my past, see me in my present, see what inside of me needs transformation and what needs to totally die. 

    I couldn't hide and build a butterfly me.  I had to see. 

    I would have liked there to be an etiquette book on how to navigate the rough waters of exiting a dysfunctional family and knowing how it feels and what would happen as you go from the inside of a family to the outskirts.

    How to leave abuse, is how to leave a family…

    It isn’t comfortable and there is no cocoon.  You are in the open and vulnerable for pot shots that many aim at you trying to shut you up and protect the family’s dark legacy. 

    And even more importantly, I wanted proof or evidence of my sanity.  I wanted there to be a blueprint of undoing the affects of being abused.  With so many turning away or not agreeing with me, it was a place for me to have my say.  I didn’t keep parts hidden away; I shared all of me, for there wasn’t a part of me that was too dirty or shameful for me not to see.

    It is my humble belief, if you can’t bear to see your self, you will want to remain hidden from others. But, if you have the courage to really really look at yourself and all the cracks and crevices you will find a very interesting and intriguing life. 

    You will see how you took that path or formed that opinion or learned to believe this or that.  You will discover a life that you will never ever want to cover up again and go back to live in a small dark space of unknowing. 

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • I am Able to Respond.

    In understanding another persons walk in life and having compassion for it, doesn’t mean they are allowed to walk all over you, due to their lack of growth if you will.

    Just because my father was abused and went on to abuse, and I know this, doesn’t mean I have to have a relationship with him or allow him into my life.

    In honoring who he is I am completely, 100% in agreement that he is not in his right mind, nor has he ever been healed from his own abuse.

    Honoring his path and allowing him to continue to hurt me are two drastically different things.

    Even in accepting who he is doesn’t mean that I accept bad behavior in my life.  Instead it means I accept who he is and that his CPU about love is completely messed up and that it would be harmful for me and others to be near him.

    I accept that he hurts people.

    I accept it and have put up healthy boundaries.

    He is not allowed in my life.

    I am honoring and completely understanding that he is out of control, so I need to be more in control of my home, my life and me, where he is concerned.

    He has never, not once tried to contract me.  It hasn’t been a tough thing to do.  If there were to be a relationship, it would have had to been me making the effort.  I did not.

    So, as my last post was recognizing the folks who are unable to stand out in the light of day as I am with not only my abuse but with my views on my old religion, I am honoring who they are. 

    I am accepting that it is uncomfortable for them to be out.

    In accepting that, I no longer have this driving desire to yank them out.

    I accept that they want to talk anonymously.

    And on my blog, if they want to comment, it is up to me to control the tone.  I get to have boundaries for folks who speak from the dark or not. 

    They are free to hide and I am free to hide their comments. 

    I sometimes fall back into my old habits of not allowing others to be themselves.  I forget to remember that free will runs both ways.  Sometimes I forget that giving them free will gives me free will.

    My father is being himself, his best representation of a boy who was abuse and went on untreated.  In the dance of life, I would much rather be a victim than an abuser.

    However, if I was an abuser, I would pray that someone would shut me down keep putting up hard boundaries to make it so difficult for me to reach the children.

    We all have responsibilities for our human beings.

    If I am harming others I need to know.

    If others want to harm me, I need to know. 

    I honor who you are and will act appropriately…that is being response able.

    I am able to respond.

     

  • I have listened.

    I had a wise voice talk to me, reminding me of the lay of the land or the overview of us all talking on the blogs, and that there is room for everyone.

    Her message struck me as totally on target, and I could see how there are folks who are not ready to say their name, to be ‘out’ here like I am.

    That in order to talk to them, I may have to duck back in and speak in the dark, until they feel okay to meet with me ‘out’ here.

    I had used the term, “being in the closet” and it does sometimes feel that there are not only abused people hiding in there, too afraid to talk about their abuse, but it seems too that there are abusers hiding there as well.

    Meaning under the cloak of secrecy, and for different reasons, they are all hiding who they really are.

    What I failed to appreciate is that while I am trying to yank them out here to be with me, I need to meet them half way. 

    It is not helpful to be forceful.  Our tug-o-war was getting us nowhere.

    While I am yelling louder they are shrinking further back and that isn’t what I wanted this blog to be about.

    I do want it to be a place for all.

    My fear was speaking to the unknown. But you have reasons I can’t know.  And if I want to hear your side, I must allow you to be in the dark.

    The trick here is to speak from our side and not assume the others position.

    If we position each sentence or feeling with the word “I”.

    With you feeling safer in hiding and me feeling safe in full view, we can figure a way to work together. 

    I recall reading in a book about the caterpillar changing into a butterfly, if you force it to leave the cocoon too soon, its wings will be too wet to fly and it will die.

    We all fly in our own time.  I apologize for my loudness and empathic words and shouting about my journey…And me not realizing you will open the door on your journey in the right and perfect time for you.

    I have been told and I have listened…

     

     

  • I have listened.

    I had a wise voice talk to me, reminding me of the lay of the land or the overview of us all talking on the blogs, and that there is room for everyone.

    Her message struck me as totally on target, and I could see how there are folks who are not ready to say their name, to be ‘out’ here like I am.

    That in order to talk to them, I may have to duck back in and speak in the dark, until they feel okay to meet with me ‘out’ here.

    I had used the term, “being in the closet” and it does sometimes feel that there are not only abused people hiding in there, too afraid to talk about their abuse, but it seems too that there are abusers hiding there as well.

    Meaning under the cloak of secrecy, and for different reasons, they are all hiding who they really are.

    What I failed to appreciate is that while I am trying to yank them out here to be with me, I need to meet them half way. 

    It is not helpful to be forceful.  Our tug-o-war was getting us nowhere.

    While I am yelling louder they are shrinking further back and that isn’t what I wanted this blog to be about.

    I do want it to be a place for all.

    My fear was speaking to the unknown. But you have reasons I can’t know.  And if I want to hear your side, I must allow you to be in the dark.

    The trick here is to speak from our side and not assume the others position.

    If we position each sentence or feeling with the word “I”.

    With you feeling safer in hiding and me feeling safe in full view, we can figure a way to work together. 

    I recall reading in a book about the caterpillar changing into a butterfly, if you force it to leave the cocoon too soon, its wings will be too wet to fly and it will die.

    We all fly in our own time.  I apologize for my loudness and empathic words and shouting about my journey…And me not realizing you will open the door on your journey in the right and perfect time for you.

    I have been told and I have listened…

     

     

  • Reasons to Spin

    While dialoguing in the comment section on the Post, “Where Your Best Interest Lies” a few posts back, I am feeling like I am a reporter trying to get my story out and they are working like crazy Spin Doctors or the Public Relations Department of the FALC to prevent that from happening. 

    They are trying so hard to convince me it wasn’t their ‘faith’ or the church or its members or any of that religious stuff, and that my abuse stands alone, like a rogue virus.

    I feel people are working so hard to spin my story off into this lonely little section called abuse where religion never touched it, blessed it or had ANY thing to do with my abuse. 

    There is abuse, AND there is religion and never shall the two touch each other.

    It is sounding like a political debate where they want there to be two sides. 

    And I am here to tell you in my experience, Religion had a huge part in keeping abuse in my family home.  It did not stay there on its own and without the knowledge of the church.

    There is no way I can speak of my abuse without including the church. 

    In fact, if I had good faith in the forgiveness of sins, I could have had a normal dad.

    If I had good faith in the power of the forgiveness of sins, the sins would be washed away never to be heard from again…

    Maybe you all want to blame my weak faith on the fact that my father kept abusing little girls.  For damn it IF only I could have believed more deeply he could be washed whiter than snow and not hurt one more little girl.

    Do any of you know what it is like to call your childhood friends, now 40 years later and say, “I wish you would not have been my friend, for honey it cost you way too much.”

    Have you?

    Do you know that I recall one bright memory of me being on a huge white pole swing in our yard on a bright sunny summer day, and my dad came to me crying asking ME for a blessing.  Why?  What did he do to this young young little girl whose feet couldn’t even touch the ground.  What???  I don't know if I did it properly…I was way too little. 

    Did I not bless him properly?  Did I not believe it, IS that why he continued on molesting, raping and fondling little girls?  Was my faith to weak in strength to erase it correctly?

    Am I going to hell for being a bad blesser???

    When you question my story, you are saying to me, that I am wrong. Tell me where I am wrong?  Tell me, please and USE your name.

    I believed in a father.

    I believed in a mother.

    I believed in the power of the forgiveness of sins.

    I believed in order to be good, I had to bless bad people.

    I believed wrong…

    And did my ‘faith’ in the forgiveness of HIS sins spare one little girl?  Did it?  Can you put the blame on me?  Did I bless him wrong???

    Oh yeah my faith is weak now, it is actually nonexistent in the power of forgiving and blessing away the sins of the fathers.

    Yes it is.  I believe 100% that it does not work. 

    I am living breathing proof. 

    Where do you all believe these piles of sins are?  Look behind you they walk with you everywhere.  It is only in your mind, that you think they are gone.

    Each and every action you have made is written down in the book of reality seen by God…nothing gets erased ever.

    The only thing you can do is do better when you know better. 

    In the past, I was a good Christian and spoke of it not, not my feelings of terror towards my father, nor my deep down resentment towards my mother, I sucked in and asked to be blessed for being such a bad child to feel unloving toward her parents. 

    I kept trying to be a better child, never even stopping to see if I had parents I should be loving toward. 

    When my father’s name was spoken as being the one to molest my niece, I became a very bad child.  I stood with the little girl and somehow I knew I was standing with me. 

    I stood in reality and refused to bless it away, like I even could.

    This little girl isn’t going to be ‘unabused’ if I utter the magic phrase.

    I am bad, a bad ass, and a bitter, cold, vengeful woman some say.  I will be alone and lonely for saying what I say.  I will be ridiculed and not believed…all the same things I felt as a child.

    As a child I believed them, now as woman who is speaking her truth I do not.

    I have faith in God and me.

    I have faith in truth.

    I have faith is using my real name.

    I have faith in others who can reveal themselves to me.

    The rest, I have no faith in.

    For if you can’t say your name, you are not standing with me, you hiding like my father behind the front of being normal.  Good people don't hide.

    Only those in truth will say their name.  This is my belief and this is my blog.  If you feel differently you can blog yourself and have a great conversation and sharing anonymously.

    Oh and one more thing.

    Someone mentioned I lost the faith in God.

    No honey, God has been with me all along.

    He was the one who erased my memory of the event.

    He kept me being a little girl with out such a horrific thing to remember.  And did however keep my truth in my body, to keep me from going near the man who did such awful things to such a sweet innocent BELIEVING girl.

    Your church doesn’t own God; he is not applauding your spinning my story to make it kind.  He was there and he knew I would not have survived life living in that house with a visual memory, sadly I would have went insane.  Only a child who didn’t know could support that family. 

    I didn’t know… and I put my faith in the folks who were spinning my life to be normal.

    Now I am no longer fooled by the spins, I only see what is behind. 

    Only anonymous have reasons to spin.

     

     

  • Who is saying the words.

    Somehow we all expect people to think, act and feel like us, when in fact we are all on our own separate journey.

    I personally chose not to engage in a conversation on my blog with people who are not willing to let me see their face.

    How many of you would want to discuss your lives with a ‘known’ stranger?  Not a stranger, but someone who knows you but wants to be treated like a stranger. 

    It seems to me that like the klu klux klan you can say things you would normally not say without your sheet.

    The anonymity of you, feels abusive to me, for I am at a disadvantage…you know things about me, that I would know about you, if your revealed yourself to me.

    It is like having ghostwriters.

    I am even finding it odd that not only does the opposition have no names, but so do the supporters.  I personally would love to know who understands and comprehends my journey.

    And the only conclusion I can come up with for hiding is fear.

    Otherwise why hide?  I know one person said that being anonymous prevents being rejected.

    And that is a concept to consider.  Rejection.  Having your own opinion may lead to rejection?  Rejection by whom?

    I even feel that perhaps I would reject some comments if I knew the source, for each time we hear a bit of gossip, we always first consider the source.

    Just because it sounds good, you have to see whose mouth it is coming from.  Words sound different depending upon who is saying them.

    Each of us has relationships and our past experiences with a person will color how the words land upon our ears.  We either know from the past how empty and hollow they are or how solid and firm and trusting.

    While many think it makes no difference that words are words and it matters not who speaks them, trust me it matters.

    Hearing “I love you” from someone who has neglected you and has lived a self absorbed life, falls flat to the floor after ricocheting around inside your heart, looking for warm fuzzy feelings.  And an “I love you” that comes from a mutually loving and trusting relationship snuggles easily inside.

    It matters to me, who is saying the words.

     

  • Control your ears

    What I find so intriguing in having a discussion with half the folks hiding behind a curtain called anonymous is that you feel so brave in calling what we do vindictive or petty or airing our dirty laundry, when you can’t even tell us who you are

    Why are you demeaning us for being so open? 

    When did it become better to hide our truths?

    Or do you only want us to hide dirty things that were done to us? 

    When we hide what was done to us, we take on shame.

    When we expose what was done to us, we become free of shame.

    When I accept what I did, I no longer have the need to hide.

    There is something really wrong about you hiding and yelling at us for being out in the open.

    My brother clued me into why I may be a little gun shy around folks who hide their ‘real identity’, my father hid his from me and my mother hid hers from me.

    I had them pictured much different than how they turned out to be.  And even my siblings. We think we know how others will act, but you can’t know until tried and tested.

    In fact one of the comments on the comment section of the http://extoots.blogspot.com/ blog said “No offense to anyone, just not a church issue to me although if still happening today I know I could count on my fellow brothers and sisters in faith without a doubt!”

    How can ‘anonymous’ be so sure.  Has she ever brought to them that she has been abuse by someone in the church or perhaps family?  That is an untried assumption, without a leg to stand upon.

    And since when is abuse not a church issue?  If the church members are being abused, it is an issue in the church.  And how you all deal with it should be brought up. 

    That is like saying; abuse is not a family issue.

    Here is another thing I want you all to know… 

    What I thought I knew about my family and who they actually were were miles apart.  I was so far off base; in the end my family of 15 shrunk down to one.  One brother and I see this eye to eye.  The rest had a different response and it wasn’t my back they covered, but my fathers and mothers.

    You all presume everyone will take the side of a victim, but I am here to tell you it isn’t so.

    It seems to me that lots of the anonymous people are making assumptions.

    Assumptions about others…

    Assuming they are going to act a certain way when until you are there in real life, you have no clue. 

    Or assuming why others are acting a certain way and assuming this without asking the source for the real reasons.

    And at the same time the anonymous are assuming, we the ones saying our names are Telling you how it really is, and you are not believing us.

    Isn’t it just insane?

    Anonymous people assuming. 

    Named people not assuming but saying what it is.

    And who are most FALC people believing? 

    They seem to have faith in assumptions and anonymous people.

    And disbelief for the ones with experience.

    Yet we are treading on delicate surface here, we are making ripples in the calm waters of what you know to be true in your life so far.  And what we are asking of you is to take our experiences and learn from them.

     

    And what I know for sure is some will and others will need to walk my walk in order to believe.

    It matters not to me who believes and who doesn’t believe that there are pedophiles within your church.  My children are no longer there and my grandchildren most like will not arrive there.  For me, my immediate suffering within the walls of the FALC are over.

    I am saying this to spare you my long walk…but that will be strictly up to you.  How you accept my words is not my responsibility, it is yours.

    You can hear what you want to hear and disregard the rest…you and you alone control your ears.

     

  • “Only folks with something to hide, hide something”

    I was over at http://extoots.blogspot.com/ blog and reading the 38 comments on the post that mentioned my blog, and was struck by the anonymous comments.  And in fact commented, misspelling the word, anonymous. 

    But it got me to thinking about how we use the word and why.

    If someone won’t use their name, can we trust what they say?

    Do you think people speak more truthfully when under an assumed name, or is the content more believable when you use your real name?

    I know that many of the stories in the tabloids are quoted with an anonymous source…and do reputable magazines use anonymous sources to get their info? 

    Why is there comfort or protection in the word anonymous?

    In my opinion, it seems most not only want to remain anonymous, but they also want our abuse to do the same.

    There is a weird twist going on here that seems unclear and confusing.

    So, you either have to change your name and speak the truth or you have to change the truth and use your name…. 

    But to use your name and speak the truth that is just unacceptable and is seen as vindictive… that doesn't make any sense.

    The only conclusion I can possibly come to is that not all are comfortable with their own stories and they want them to remain anonymous, our speaking out threatens their anonymous status.

    For truly, I am not threatened in the least by anyone saying their truth, but I do feel I am being jerked around and used when they speak anonymously.

    The conversation is unfair, it is tilted, and they are jabbing at me while hiding behind a curtain.  I don’t have their full stories, their names, where they live, how they live etc, I just get words without supporting evidence.

    Anonymous allows you to hide who you are, why?

    Why hide?

    What do you have to hide? 

    What do you not want us to know?

    “Only folks with something to hide, hide something” Dr. Phil

     

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