I M Perfect lady

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  • Who we want to talk to.

    I have watched myself in various conversations whether online, in person or on the phone, and I marvel at myself and its ability to respond or the lack thereof.

     

    I find that I mostly enjoy dialogue in the present, and the first person. Stories of stories have me fade away or zone out.  I can’t seem to be present with a non-present story.

    It is almost like having a front row seat to their minds, and them replaying what happened.

     

    I guess I am much better in a happening place to have it going on in real time.

     

    Real speak, real dialogue, not dialogue about dialogue.

     

    And I was friend for a day with one lady, whose walk was similar to mine, but we viewed our healing totally opposite.  After a few exchanges, she de-friended me.

     

    There can be fear when someone doesn’t see what you see, and it may be threatening to your pathway.  However, unless it gets personally draining or toxic raining, I can stay in and actually enjoy the exchange of different views.

     

    I am more alive in a conversation where I am dancing around the same issue with someone who sees differently than if I am listening to a conversation about a conversation.

     

    People are so revealing in conversations, about what they talk about, don’t talk about, or talk around, sometimes you can have a full conversation without ever seeing the person you are talking to…for they give you info about things, but not themselves.

     

    I used to be interested in things, now I wait for the person to arrive, to step forth and to talk to me, to leave the ‘things’ behind and just show me their self.

     

    It is almost like the mind talking and rambling along…and the real self is seldom revealed.

     

    I can see that I challenge the mind and seek to go around it to find the real self.  Both in conversation with others but more importantly with me.

     

    We can talk to our selves about things, or about what really matters, our truths, our fears, our dreams, our inner desires…we have to decide who we want to talk to.

     

     

     

  • Pain Free

    "A huge part of our task becomes noticing unskillful reactions and learning to let them go. This is not a denial of some part of our self. It is simply the abandoning of actions that cause harm and suffering (mostly to ourselves). When we pick up a hot utensil on the stove, we don’t have to think about who we are before we drop it, or who we might become if we dropped it, or become afraid that we would not be authentic to ourselves if we drop it—it’s painful and we drop it!Most of us only make such a mistake once. It’s the same in the heart, except that the hot utensil has been in our hand so long, maybe most of our life, that we’ve forgotten what not buring feels like or don’t know who we would be without the burning, we are afraid to put it down. This may sound absurd, but when you think how hard it is to stop being defensive in the face of criticism, or to let go of self-judgment, it makes sense.  But that doesn’t mean easy.”                       Sean Felt

     

    I saw this posted on Facebook, and find that it is the perfect paragraph I was seeking to explain how it is easier to hang on and continuing doing the same hurtful thing instead of letting go and changing. 

    It seems incredibly insane to want to hold near and dear to you things that cause you pain, but if the only ‘normal’ you have ever known feels this way, it isn’t painful it is love.

    Which is why it is so very difficult to get people to drop the burning utensils, for they have become calloused and acclimated and have forgotten what not burning feels like.

    Not burning feels like an enemy when it is actually your friend.

    This flipped upside down reactionary response to clutch hurtful things and steer away from cool non-hurtful ones, creates a journey filled with self inflicted pain for we don’t know how to let go.

    As incredible as it seems it is ‘easier’ to hang on than let go.

    It is the only self we know, this painful hurting self, we fear being a pain free self.  

    I have found that it is incredibly hard to let go and drop that which hurts you, when you had labeled hurt love.

    I wasn’t dropping abuse… I was dropping love.

    It seems so silly that you will not release yourself from hurt, but we don’t call it hurt we call it love.

    And in this flipped out state, our reactions are the opposite of what is normal.  Clutching hurt we push away from real love.

    We live as this anomaly, upside down and inside out.

    It’s not easy to change this, it will take Herculean efforts to return your self to normal responses, to reset your reactions to what hurts and what doesn’t, to feel normal while pain free.

     

  • I faded

    It is so easy to fall out of sight of your self, to disappear and only catch fleeting glimpses through out the day.  It is amazingly easy to not see and pay attention to your inner world and to be present and aware to all things.

     

    When I did yoga each morning I was with myself for an hour and a half.  I was with each breath and focused on my body, and when I stopped doing yoga, I spend very little time paying attention to me.

     

    I miss being with me in such a concentrated healthy way, watching my body become stronger and more flexible, being with the emotions that seemed to flow from my muscles, to gaining balance inside and out.

     

    It has been good as well to see how I seem to disappear from my self while being here, how I can lose sight of my wellness and get lazy…fall back into a sea of apathy.

     

    It’s easier to do nothing…

     

    It takes time, effort and its much more difficult to be on task of being the caretaker of you.

     

    You have to carve up your time each day making sure you take a good chunk for yourself.

     

    I used to do this right away each morning, starting out my day with me in focus, and that set the tone for the rest of the day.

     

    I would then have my best interest front and center.

     

    I am toying with the idea of getting back into the demanding routine of daily yoga.  Perhaps taking one day off each week.

     

    By doing this all things in my life go better; I move better, feel better, sleep better, am much more alert, aware and see clearer…and I am lonesome for that self.

     

    I allowed my self to start fading away, to drift along in the sea of life without really paying attention to where I am going.

     

    Yoga brings me back to me and I feel a greater connection to the Universe…

     

    The wise people are right, you do get what you focus on.

     

    I was not focusing on me and I faded.

     

  • Everything as it is.

    There is this thing called ‘something’ that keeps you from being totally happy, at peace…something precedes your every step and lives out in front of you stealing your peace, and when you can dismantle the something making machine, you will find life a friendly place to be.

     

    It wasn’t until I lost ‘something’ that I found it had stood between life and me.

     

    Perhaps it was the absence of desiring, wanting, being disappointed or stressed that felt odd, or the lack of plans or having to reach a certain place, that I realized it was gone.

     

    This elusive something changes and ties strings to all your destinations and gatherings, it runs ahead and creates images for you to reach for and scurries off before you arrive, is always one step ahead of you.

     

    In my mind it wasn’t crystal clear, what the something was, but I searched for it like a hidden treasure in each place when I arrived.

     

    I had an image, a feeling or a desire to be fulfilled when I arrived.  I sought it and when it wasn’t found, I left disappointed.

     

    This future something rode ahead of my life planting little seeds of desire for me to harvest when I came behind it, sprinkling my world with what I thought were dreams, when in fact they were moment wreckers.

     

    These moment wreckers became larger than reality, like an overlay, I sought them more than I appreciated what was actually there.

     

    On my latest mini vacation, I was pleasantly surprised I had arrived ahead of something.

     

    I arrived minus a preplanned or arranged idea in my head.

     

    Usually, I had a something plan set in my head that a place had to match.

     

    Whether it was a mood or experience I had to find a certain thing to make me happy.   I didn’t arrive happy, but had to find something to make me so.

     

    I may be unable to articulate this, but to travel with zero expectations, and instead see how you feel when you arrive is totally the opposite of my old traveling/living days.

     

    Before a romantic getaway had to deliver a certain number of things to make it so, perhaps the right sunset, the perfect dinner, the right clothing, the awesome motel, the right weather, the right vehicle, the temperature…you get the picture.

     

    In fact I painted a picture in my mind and then IF reality didn’t match most of it, I wasn’t fully satisfied.

     

    And it can happen in the smallest of situations or on a weekend getaway or two week vacation.  Prior to going your mind sets in motion a something trail that you have to follow and depending upon how many things you match, your trip will be a success.

     

    Imagine the insanity of your trip having to measure up to a trip in your head, a desire or fantasy list?

     

    This last little getaway I forgot to pack the list of something.

     

    I had no preset emotions, feelings, desires and things to capture in order for it to be completed.

     

    In its place instead was arriving…like a free motion painting.

     

    Creating an artful vacation by being inspired in each moment, not knowing what you need until you see it, and bringing it in to your vacation instead of hunting for the right thing, the right thing came to you.

     

    Giving up something you can greet everything as it is.

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    We came around a corner and this guy caught my attention…he was standing in front of an Art Gallery…he beckoned me inside.

     

  • Obscuring the view!

    I used to marvel at my husbands ability to move around the planet comfortable in his skin, how his clothing and appearance were secondary always that he seemed to enjoy life without a care.

     

    He wasn’t a participant in the game of looking a certain way, in the contest of having the latest fads, or a living mannequin moving about the planet, he just lived under his own set of rules, being himself.

     

    At times this irritated me, for he didn’t often match the men in a group, but it never seemed to faze him in the least, he arrived for dinner and enjoyed his meal, he got on the boat and enjoyed the ride, he traveled around thoroughly connected to what was, without a barrier between him and what was going on, for he wasn’t concerned how he looked.

     

    This concerning or discerning behavior I had, often times stepped in the way of me relaxing and enjoying myself, for I was so aware of the comparison between me and others, and most often times, me falling short of the mark.

     

    On this trip, I noticed me being much more like him, where I didn’t notice me in the setting, but the setting.

     

    When our cabin didn’t have a hair dryer, I just brushed it and let it go.

     

    In the midst of crowds of people, I was able to move about as me, confident and strong with flat hair, admiring wonderful art, scenic beauty and be totally with my husband, instead of having this drape of not fitting in flapping in front of me obscuring the view!

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    What freedom lies in just relaxing and facing the world no matter what your outwardly appearance says, inside it says…I feel fine!  I am thinking, that we call it peer pressure trying to keep up the pace with others, when it really is mere pressure of being uncomfortable with who you are.

     

     

  • And Me

    Today my husband and I leave for a few days, just him and I and the 1983 Chevy truck. 

     

    While it may not seem like a big thing, what kind of car you drive, we do however have a few vehicles that bring out the date in you, and the Big Blue Truck is one.

     

    It doesn’t see the open road much, it rarely has plates on it and surely not insurance.  It is used mainly for plowing snow and is kept in the barn on hay…well actually beach sand, but I kid him.

     

    He bought it brand new in 1982, the fall he and I began dating.  He has had it painted, a new engine, running boards and running lights, chrome wheels, loud mufflers etc.  It is a well-loved truck…a truck of young boys dream.

     

    Before taking it out on the open road, he had a few things to fix, rear breaks, led to new break lines, led to wheel bearings, and to things called spider gears (well we may let that go and pray for the best), but he won’t back out of our driveway until he is assured it is good running shape….  I have no idea what these things look like, but his concern for the truck equals his care for the things he loves.

     

    Overall, it is his care that has kept the truck going, our love going, our family going.  He is a man who pays attention to the details.  He catches things before they are way far-gone, he hears little sounds the truck makes telling him which part needs his attention, just as he notices when any of us are just a hair off. 

     

    If he had his way, we would all be kept on hay in a barn, safe, sound and out of harms way…only to be taken out for joy rides.

     

    I am so thrilled to be going on a joy ride with a man who loves, who cares and who shows it.

     

    He has taught me how to care, how to love…we have traveled far and are very lucky that we can dip back into our earlier years and enjoy dating. 

     

    Today is his birthday…and he will be like a young kid again driving along in his big blue truck…28 years since he bought it he still loving it, and me! 

     

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    My husband just came back from the parts store, the part we were waiting on did not come in.  He was able to get a part for my Mail Jeep…a wheel bearing that too has been making noises.  So, we will continue on…leaving the Chevy for dates near home. 

    This is our first time taking the Jeep on vacation…it will be a good cool ride. Air.

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  • Out of Control Controlled Person

    While discussing the attributes of suicide, two different people suggested that the body is out of control…and neither felt it was ‘them’ that did it, but a whole other person, a self that they did not know.

     

    I am very intrigued by how they see the person who almost died as someone different than them…and yet when they are well, or back on solid ground, that depressed person does not resemble the person who now has some control.

     

    This led me to ponder that you can be out of control as a rock, who is incapable of moving…or out of control moving… incapable of stopping.

     

    And it matters not whether you are moving or not moving, what matters is the lack of control.

     

    This lack of control means something or somebody else has control over you.

     

    You have lost owning your self.

     

    This lost self and the found self are totally different.

     

    A self that is under the control of a cult like religion and who has grown up in a dysfunctional family does not have control of her self at all.

     

    We give up the rights to our own lives, choices, beliefs…we lose control of self movement.

     

    No one says that a brainwashed person is out of control…we use that term only for moving things…yet it works the same for unmoving.

     

    The staunch faithful will not make a move that goes against the teachings of the church…while being controlled by others, they themselves have no control.   

     

    They only control themselves to remain faithful to the other that is controlling them.

     

    There is no self to control; they lost contact with the self.

     

    They see themselves through the controller’s eyes.

     

    Who would ever think that a person who is completely under the control of cult etc, is out of control?  It seems like an oxymoron.

     

    A very out of control controlled person.

     

     

     

     

  • A wooden Lady

    It came to me while writing today, that I used to be a rock.  A solid unmoving sturdy chunk of ‘being okay’ no matter what Rock; that you couldn’t shake my good nature.

     

    I withstood false promises and never showed my disappointment, I relied on the unreliable to come through and never once stood up and walked away.  I lived for years and years being the rudder in lives that seemed to be adrift and in need of my steadiness, getting splashed upon and caught in the undertow, yet remained standing with them.

     

    I somehow felt so needed and secure to be their rock.

     

    A rock. That was my role.

     

    Not partner, friend, mutual exchanging, but a rock.

    Something to stand upon, sit upon reliable always being there, for them…my needs, thoughts, feelings hidden under the solid hard cover.

     

    Looking back at my rock days, being a rock star perhaps in a sick and twisted way, I see that I had no sense to move out of the way, that I didn’t have legs to move me, like a rock I waited for some one to come along and pick me up and throw me out of the relationship I was in.

     

    It literally never occurred to me to move.

     

    Six and a half years later I am good at moving, I am fluid like a stream, I show my emotions and voice my feelings, I am no longer stuck in the hailstorm of others peoples lives, I respond in kind to what comes my way, I move, I bend and turn…free.

     

    I watch now other rock ladies and witness the sickening way they try to control things that are out of their control, like an alcoholics wife the promises never take root.

     

    It is weird that the rock changes color depending upon who they are with, like a huge living breathing mood ring…they fill in the weak spot, overlook the negative and bring in the balance of what is missing.  It never crosses their minds to leave, to turn and get out.

     

    What I felt was a solid rock of good nature, was actually a solid rock victim.

     

    The difference of how you feel inside filling up the low spots in a relationship, like you are helping, adding, growing, when if fact you are helping them remain less.

     

    At first glance it seems like a good deed, that you are being so accommodating, but in actuality you are enabling them to treat you poorly.

     

    It is like you are helping them slap your face again and again, while you sit as a rock.

     

    I was proud of how much I could withstand, see it as my strength, and all it showed was how little I thought of myself.

     

    I was a rock…I was an island….isn’t that a line in a song?

     

    What continues to shock me is how backwards I had everything…sitting as a rock never moving, being so loyal…like a wooden lady.

     

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  • Not in Harmony

    Within me there is a frustrating dilemma, speaking out in a society that is uncomfortable about suicide or remaining silent.

     

    Silent seems dishonorable or maybe rude to not hear such an inhumane scream of suffering…indifference even.

     

    How is it possible to turn away from such a blatant act of desperation?  Surely we want to learn from this.

     

    Do we dare listen to the message?

     

    What is the message? 

     

    How is it possible to be so out of alternatives, to be so backed into a corner where living is ruled out?

     

    Where there isn’t a sliver of hope left.

     

    What is there to learn? 

    What can she teach us?  

    What are the signs? 

     

    There are papers in two different states reporting this death.  The out-of-State paper writes, “Evidence collected by the patrol indicates that she meant to step into the path of the truck.”  And the local paper writes how wonderful she was, an honor student, caring and wise beyond her years, etc.

     

    The pictures of don’t match. 

     

    What was she trying to tell us in her last breath?

     

    What is the contrast of her life and death here to show us?

     

    Due to the drastic nature of her death it seems her life had to equal it somehow, yet her life doesn’t seem to match.

     

    What lies beneath?

     

    I have heard that suicide is a selfish act, but perhaps this is way wrong.  You wonder if she is using her death to say something, loud, clear and unmistakable.

     

    Where it is impossible to call it an accident or natural cause, where it is putting her whole life out there for the world to see.

     

    What is it that she wants us to see?

     

    How can we learn from her life, to see her pathway and find the signs that were leading her to this end, so that we can put in alternative roads for others?

     

    How can her death be used for another’s life?

     

    While we pay close attention to mysterious deaths of the body and perform autopsies, we don’t look equally into suicides to see the path that leads there.

     

    What put her on this road?

     

    What I know is people who are loved, nurtured and who feel safe on this planet; they don’t kill themselves in order to leave.

     

    While it may be controversy to speak of suicide, I am thinking by not speaking of it we are screaming louder that we don’t want to hear about your suffering.

     

    If perhaps as a society we could talk openly and freely about pain and suffering, if it was okay to talk about not wanting to live, to be open and honest, perhaps we then could stop people who feel that those who suffer too much have to leave, that there is no room here for those who suffer.

     

    How we as adults talk about her death, shows the youth how much we embrace reality and truth, how much we are willing to be with those who suffer.

     

    It just seems to me, how wonderful it would be if she could spare another soul her journey.  And if we can change our consciousness about suicide, her death will not be in vain.

     

    She was here to teach us how to become more deeply aware of the signs of covering up suffering, for her social life and her death are not in harmony.

     

     

  • My own Little Plot

    It is hard to believe that I lived a life without a self that I had disappeared from my life and had not even noticed it, for I left my life before I had a life.

     

    Without knowing I got a life of my own, I spent all my time in other people’s business, leaving my own life quite vacant.

     

    I simply didn’t live a separated life.

     

    The biggest part of myself was lived in the midst of other people’s world, what I meant to them, how I made them feel, I was an interchangeable part to them.

     

    I was a piece of them.

     

    When I latched on to a person who needed me, I came alive.

     

    Set me alone…I had no value.

     

    Having zero value by myself left me very much dependent upon others, hence the word co-dependent, for my sense of self.

     

    Finding a self that stood alone was near impossible.

    I had no definition if the words sister, mother, daughter, wife, friend were not around.

     

    Who was I to myself?

     

    I wasn’t as good a friend to me as I was to my friends, nor did I mother myself as wonderful as I tried to mother my children, nor was a good partner to myself as I was to my husband.

     

    In the end all my efforts outside of myself left me completely empty…for I ignored my self while taking care of others.

     

    Imagine 46 years with nothing to show for my self.

     

    My self had lived silently still while I toiled in people’s lives.

     

    It is like weeding and tending a garden that you are unable to eat from, leaving you starving while they enjoy the crop you took care of.

     

    Slaving over their fields while my own was over run from neglect.

     

    What freedom came when I understood we are all gardeners of our own lives, that each of us can plant the kinds of things we love, and pull up and out the things that prick us.

     

    I love my life now that I see it as my own little plot!

     

April 2026
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I M Perfect, and it is impossible not to be.

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