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I misspoke in my last blog, about Mothers who suffer to do right by their children. I do not believe this is true. It isn't suffering as we think of suffering. It feels so different. It feels constructive and empowering – while being hard and tiring.

I believe that women who are unable to find the courage to do right by their children will suffer much more. They may even experience becoming estranged from them, due to their lack of seeing their child's needs.

The un-natural mothering of being so self-absorbed is the cause to much suffering.

What I believe to be true, is that neither is easy, but one will have the outcome of a child who feels connected to their parent.

Part of the dysfunctional family is self-absorption, due to their own childhood trauma.  And, they then in turn mother in a motherless way.  Leaving their child feeling unseen, just as they were unseen.  Hence the cycle of dysfunctional legacy.

Being so self absorbed, that you can't see your own child, is a blindness to other's needs and this itself IS a sign of your own abuse.  Your inability to put aside your own life routine, in order to take care of your child's needs.

I am privilege to know grandmothers who are contributing greatly to the lives of their grandchildren, due to the needs of their own children. They are easing the burden of childcare, in order to make less stress upon their child -while making their own lives MORE stressful.  And, more adventurous and living with the purpose of love of their child and grandchild.

What I see is that the wisdom of their own lives, flowing down to the next two generations.

A grandmother who  steps in with grace.

Life is about exchanges. 

Like I have written about caring for my granddaughter, there are times when the selfish part of me wants its attention.  However, its needs are so empty compared to the rewards I have gotten being a bigger part of my daughter and granddaughters life.

There is a cost on both ends, whether your self absorption doesn't allow you to place the long term wellness of your child ahead of your own. It is my belief, you will lose the real connection of seeing you child and being seen by your child.

I see you and you matter to me, is priceless.

As grandmothers who have raised children, often our siblings and then our own, we are just plum tired of the idea of taking care.  However, what I have found on this third time around, that I can teach and play during out time together.

We are both excited about the hours we spend, either doing art, hiking, snowshoeing, hiking and now biking. What a gift I have been given.  

It isn't easy to navigate free of the selfishness and self-absorption that being unseen by our mothers caused.  We wrongly believe that being selfish is self loving. 

I am not certain I can articulate the depth and breadth of transcending this entails.

To ignore or quiet the neglected self and reach out to help another.

And, I believe we can still whine about being tired. 

We are. 

It isn't easy.  

And, don't they often say the harder road is one where change happens.

The easy road is to do what was done to you.

Anyway.  

Happy Mother's Day to the badass grandmothers who are kicking it.

Who are not only watching their grandchildren, but are outside doing fun things!

We are rewarded with the awesome relationship we have with this child.

I mean – I am one of her Besties!

And, more I know at the end of the day, I am doing my utter best to do what I can to fulfill a need that wasn't planned.

The slower pace of being old, often matches the slower pace of being young.

We also get a chance at another childhood, at a slower pace and with more wisdom to realize the small things are what living is about.

I sit between two mothers – my mother and my daughter.

The past meets the present, and flows into the future.

I have lived long enough to see the legacy living itself out.

I know what I needed and I know what I needed to do.

As Mother's day approaches, it is always bitter sweet.  

Looking up at the one who came before me, I find the empty spot.  Most will look back fondly with remembrance, the estranged look back and feel pain. We are reminded what wasn't there, by those who celebrate what was.

Being her daughter who is a mother, I then have to turn to me.

Who am I as a woman?

Am I the woman I needed her to be?

The attempts I have made to fill the space often seems to fall short. The gap was so empty of the things that really mattered.

Some may say that the basics of life are food, shelter and clothing.

I had those things.

What I perhaps needed more, was someone to see me and show me that I mattered.

That I mattered enough for her to stop her world when she knew abuse was happening. It leaves my heart feeling hollow.

How do I celebrate that on Mother's Day? 

I celebrate what I did when I knew abuse was happening.

I celebrate how I stopped my world.

I celebrate how I fell apart.

I celebrate how much my children mattered.

They mattered enough for me to become estranged.

I loved them more.

And, I look at the mother who came after me.

My daughter.

She mothers in a soft way. 

She sees her daughter and her needs. 

She matters to her on a level that is beyond what the heart can hold.

Her actions show love.

And, we are catching a glimpse at what we both have passed on down to my granddaughter, who I believe is reaping what we sowed. 

I am seeing my legacy flowering into a pattern of beautiful knowing she matters.

There are mother's whose actions are remarkable. Who have put there children first no matter what.  These are the mother's whose love knew no bounds or limits and they suffered in order for their children to have a better life. They are the badass women I celebrate on Mother's Day.

Being estranged I feel multiple feelings, but mostly I feel that the choices I made may not always make sense to others. But they have always made sense to the child within me.

She knew she mattered by the choices I made.

I mothered her, and she too flowered into a woman I am proud to be.

Happy Mother's day!

To the many children out there who have lost beautiful souls as mothers. I want you to know, how special it is for you to have a heart full of memories, knowing you mattered. What an incredible gift you were given.  The love you feel will be with you always.

My husband has been married to two women in our 32 year marriage, both lived in the same body, and their lives are so different.

How do you explain the two of me?

From brainwashed, to open mind.

The contrasts from the inside go from tight constriction, to breathtaking expansion.

Void of deep feelings and vulnerable connections, into a deep understanding of myself; my body, mind and soul.

From colorless to colorful.

Meaningless to deep meaning.

The woman he married lived with fear as her driving force. Rules and sins defined her, in how she saw the world, herself and others. 

The only way I can really see and understand her today, is to be with women who are still living in the confines of their religious mind. Compound that with affects of being abused.

Looking back, I believe I was drawn to the opposite of me.

My husband's unwillingness to be ruled by rules. His effortlessness to be himself always.  He lived by kindness and a warm heart. He wasn't going to fit into a small box of conformity.

He actually was my guiding light, as I integrated my truths and dared to live outside of any religion.

He didn't need anyone telling him how to feel, how to live, how to be himself.

He knew himself and was just that.

He has always been comfortable with authentic people regardless of how they express themselves. 

He accepted and loved me as a religious woman, who believed she had high morals and values. I believed back then, that I was living my truth. And, perhaps I was.  

The sign I was abused, was that I came from dysfunction and didn't know it. My unawareness of my truths.

I was 46 years old and had been married for 18 years, when I discovered the truth within me. The life changing discovering that I was a victim of sexual abuse. We, at that time, thought we had a good marriage, and that we were in a good place.

A new woman was born in that moment, and we both had to be open to who she was.

What would this new woman need, and be, and love?

We placed our marriage on the floor to give ourselves time and space to explore how she would fit into the world we had created without her.

It is still amazing to me, for it was quite terrifying to be her.

I was learning where I truly came from and the truths of my pasts and who I was. And, the horrifying understanding, that I didn't know me. 

Not the real me, the me who was abused and how it affected and directed who I was.

Bringing in the whole truth of me into an already running life, was a very challenging, exciting, and daunting task.

I didn't know which parts of my life were authentic or just an un-natural response to abuse.

The woman who grew from each choice I made was one that naturally fit in with my husband.

A woman who unabashedly was herself, uncompromisingly so.  There isn't a part of me that is built for the comfort of others. 

While this may seem harsh, it really is quite freeing to be with someone who doesn't need you to complete them. There is no part of me that is upheld with how others act or behave.

Love to me is being free to be yourself.

Love doesn't try to shape you or model you into something else.

The reason that our love works, is that it accepts you as you are.

And, this allows for expansion.

It is boundary less.

Perhaps the only rule of our marriage is to be yourself. We can tell immediately when one of us is off – when we are not being true to who we are.

We were married at my parents home with just immediate family.

Here is a picture I gave him while we were dating.

He and I both had no idea where our lives would lead us, and how much I would change.

Even in my wildest of dreams would I ever have dreamed I would be where I am today.

I was authentic as a religious person and one who didn't know her own truth.

Authentically in denial.

I am at peace with the woman I have become and thank the woman I was, for she allowed me to survive.

I believe the strength of any relationship is valued by how much you can be your true self.

I have been trying to write out the contents of anxiety, and how the thoughts were the opposite of reality, like it was trying to predict the unpredictable, but with a very heavy overtone of negativity that would leave me in worse shape than I was in.

I then thought to look up the word and see what the correct definition was.

Anxiety – "a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome."

Feeling nervous or unease about an uncertain outcome – strikes me the most.

I can see how family focused events, evoke uncertainty within.  

Not only is a spotlight upon my estrangement, it seems to be questioning my certainty.  Challenging my new boundaries, even if they are just thoughts, and not outright challenges any more.  And perhaps the latest sibling encounter was still ringing in my ears.

What I also know, is that uncertainty feeds into any other areas, where I am feeling a bit off. Where I am feeling overwhelmed, naturally.

In anxiety, the past and present get all messed up.

Feelings of uncertainty land upon things that are innocent, IF I am not careful.

New patterns are made up of uncertainty.  It has not been done before in my family.

I am the black sheep the odd man out, the changeling.

There isn't a certain path I am walking.

So the natural feelings of being uncertain in a new endeavor, clings on things I can see in this moment in time. Like a heat seeking missile it will find things that I can put my anxiety upon. Which IS I am looking to control as much as I can, to downgrade the feelings of anxiety.

Such as "my husband should be helping me clean and not be working on a tractor." I want to control his life by making him do my life, in my insane thinking mind.

I can create a story that ends up with him becoming an asshole.  Instead of a very happy man, who is excited to get a tractor running. A man who has watched his little granddaughter for most of the day.  A man who truly wants his family happy and well cared for. A man who asks for very little. I can take the certainty of him and create an image that is the complete opposite. 

In the space of few hours, I created similar stories of untruth that overshadowed beautiful realities.

The truth is being estranged from a family will bring uncertainties. We can't know where we are going for we are doing something different. 

When I feel the most uncertain, I look to control in anyway I can.

However, in the quest for control, my thoughts are not look deeply or widely. They just want what they want right now.

Luckily, I worked alone on the house and let my husband to his glory.  He never knew what my thoughts were saying, I blissfully didn't have the opportunity to spill them onto him.

After working on chores, my mind saw I wasn't going to follow its lead. I allowed the feelings of uncertainty stay with me. Anxiety and I worked together.

Now, a day after the holiday. The threat of being judged for not being part of my family of origin has passed, and with it the anxiety is gone.

What is so odd, is that I know I can answer any question relating to my absence from my family. This isn't a trick question that I can't answer.  

It may be that I have the anxiety or uncertainty how I am viewed for being estranged from so many. I don't know which avenue of uncertainty was feeding me. 

All I do know, is that anxiety is often a normal respond to an uncertain outcome in reality at this moment or it can be a time traveler about other past uncertain holidays.

What I do know, is that you can learn from anxiety, and you can investigate your reality to find a source, or ask yourself "what am I really uncertain about?"

What I also know, is that I am not really uncertain about me.

I am living as close to my truth as possible.

I know there are places where I am now being challenged to live my new pattern, and where my old selfish tendencies would like to reign. The short term gratification is going unfulfilled to accomplish long term change.

I have been around children my whole life.  I have been responsible for kids since I was about 7, and now life circumstances are that we can help my daughter.  The selfish part of me, wants no part of this, especially when I am tired.  The new pattern of me, knows this is a growth area.  It is where I can literally change the legacy of the women in my area of influence. To put aside my temporary needs for long term affects.

My daughter and granddaughter and the daughters that follow will model selflessness.

They will make choices that will have long term affects in the well being of their children.

What I learned most from my mother was selfishness.

When I am overtired, this feeling arises.

It stunts the growth of children.

I have had to look at my selfish needs in certain moments and when they stand alone against the distance of time, they are so petty.

When I then look at the gift I have been given to be involved in the care of my granddaughter and how it will affect her life, it is beyond what I can articulate.

This morning she said again to me, "We are besties, cause we like so many of the same things." 

I guess the bottom line of anxiety for me is that have I changed enough?

Did I make enough changes to change the legacy for my family?

This for sure is my greatest concern, to not repeat the cycle of abuse.

Being selfish, is one of the biggest hurdles in setting a new pattern.

It can look like self love.

And anxiety is natural in new patterns.

Oh, and the other definition of anxiety is "desire to do something, typically accompanied by unease."

When you are trying to redo family holidays, this too would be a natural response. 

As long as there are not disproportionately amounts of anxiety, it is a healthy emotion to have when your are uncertain.

It's no wonder that I am comfortable in art, which too has an uncertain outcome, for in creating new patterns in life, I am getting practice in uncertainty.

On the eve of Easter, my anxiety rose and my irrational thoughts swept in and out of my world. The idea of a holiday and all its trappings seemed too much. I wanted to cancel and be alone.

My mind eagerly came up with a ton of things to blame for my anxiety.

The list is long and false.

After a few hours of cleaning, and getting my home in order, I felt more in control.

My mind was sorted out too.

I had heard about triggers, and how we often think they are trauma sounding, and not so familiar as FAMILY.

Or, holiday.

Unbeknownst to me, just the idea of getting ready for a holiday is triggering for me.

It isn't my children, but the way it amplifies my estrangement.

Even while focusing on this house, I feel the emptiness surrounding me.

And, it leaves me feeling ungrounded.

It challenges my stance and my peace.

Even now this many years later, family holidays are unsettling.

I believe, that this will always be the case.

That I will never be able to forget and will always feel this anxiety during the holidays.

The ghosts of the pasts.

It isn't even so much the memories, but the reality of our partings and more, the silence of our now.

Family has lost its innocence.

And, holidays are much more complicated, and I will have to prepare myself better for them.

Even to get the cause of the anxiety put in its proper container, so I don't spread my angst upon the innocent family in my home.

This is why I am sure, that what pain we don't heal is spread down to the next generation.

For, the inside of me was roiling with feelings and my mind was wanting them to land upon something in my present.  And yet, it was the pain of the past visiting me in my present.

Holidays are complicated as your relationships with your family.

What I am so overly grateful for, is that I am at peace with my family.

The the relationships in my home are not anxiety ridden.

I will have to find time for me in the midst of holiday prep. This is a time I need more care than normal.  I need to make room for the anxiety of estrangement.

It will always be part of me.

The part that made me stronger and empowered.

It is okay.

You can come and sit with me.

There is room for all my feelings and emotions.

Anxiety is a reminder of our reality. It isn't good or bad, it just is.

Often anxiety pulls my glance backward and steals my present.

And, when I am taking care of me, I can bring me to the present and be with my family in my home.

Anxiety will be my guest.

I am honored, to be honored.

Dial Help, was one of the first agencies that I worked with. An-gel was the first person I met there and together we began WIND – Women In New Directions, which is now in its 5th year.  There are so many women I would never have met had this not began. Women who are active and creative, who push through life's difficulties to try new adventures. Together we have grown in new directions.

The me who entered their offices, who spoke at their Gala, who donated journals, who even took their course on becoming a sexual assault victim's advocate, etc, is not who I am today.

Back then, I was just beginning to share my story in public. I was so naive to so many parts of the victim's journey into becoming.

Looking back now, I can see that being believed and heard, was a huge part of my trusting them. So often, children of sexual abuse by a family member are not believed.

Even if they are believed, there are no actions showing this is so. And, that leaves the child feeling their words were not 'believable enough' that somehow we failed to articulate our truth.

It was through Dial Help, that I met Tom Rosemurgy, a Detective at the time for Houghton County.  He and I discussed my father's evidence and court papers. It was so affirming to me, to sit with the law of the land and hear their side.  Tom also loved my art and was a great supporter of that too. 

What victims of abuse need to feel is that they matter.

Dial Help and Tom didn't change my past, but they did validate where I stood.  And in doing so, I was asked to be part of other helping organizations.

Joe Freed, was another great cheerleader. He worked at Copper Country Mental Health. And, he not only believed in me, he treated me as an equal and he too Loved my art. He understood more, because of where he walked.  

It is the individuals within these organizations that make all the difference. 

They believe we can before we believe.

And, in doing so we reach higher than we ever imagined.

As victims, we pass through different stages and some of us may use many organizations for help. They are not meant as stopping off places, but places for us to gain wisdom and energy to continue on. Places where we can safely wrestle with our truths of trauma.

Each has held my hand for awhile and then released me, stronger than when we met.

Their handprint upon my journey is indelible. 

Those of you who have held my hand each time you heard my truth, I sincerely thank you.

I am honored to know you.

It's been 10 years since I began blogging, but I had written in journals for 4 years prior to that.  

Writing out my life's questions and troubling thoughts has been so life changing for me. It has allowed me to see me in a way I wouldn't otherwise.  

I found it is pretty hard to lie to yourself, and blog.

When I began writing about my life in journals, it was to find the truth.  I had lived my whole life previous, a few steps away from it.

Denial isn't so much about denying reality, but rather denying your feelings.

In the writing, I connected with my thoughts and feelings.

Julia Cameron was my first introduction to writing. She suggests "Morning Pages", where you write 3 pages each morning. You write to just get your thoughts on paper.

I had just begun her book "The Artist Way" when I discovered my own sexual abuse.

The paper was my lifeline to truth.

I went nowhere without pencils and a notebook.

The conversations become real in writing. Often by the third page, the answer would appear; an affirmation, a knowing or an otherwise unknown idea.

My writing was for me, first and foremost. It was my guide, which seems quite insane, for it is me holding the pencil.

Writing and the blank white page became my best friend. It was always there, always willing to hear anything. Non-Judgmental or impatient.

When something bothers me, running around in my head and disrupting my peaceful space, I write.

I talk to it, explore why it is upsetting me. What it is trying to tell me about me.

For, anytime I am upset, there is something in me that believes a lie.

They are not earth shattering lies, but little ones that pile up that create a stressful life.

I try and catch them as they land.

They are simple, and often none of my business.

Lies that I am in control of another's choice.

Lies that takes me out of my business and places me in the middle of someone else's life, where I wasn't even invited.

Life is fairly simple if you stay in your own lane.

And it is a full time job to do your own business.

There is more than enough to keep your attention if you are aware.

Your emotions, feelings, thoughts, dreams, wishes, intentions, goals, desires, and how you yourself connect with them and the world around you.

Mostly, I am delighted to know that I am not responsible for anyone. For so many years, I believed I was. It was a heavy burden to bear, especially when they never seemed to do what I thought was right for them, or better or kinder or loving.

Now, I can just do what is right and loving for me.

The wide expanse inside of me feels the space they left open just for me.

A whole field to breathe in.

I know living a full life will mean pain and sorrow. I have felt the deepest dark and the most life sucking darkness.  I have also felt the extreme delights in the simplest places.

Life and all its glory is open to be fully felt. 

I love my body, my mind and my life.

The sheer beauty of its unique nature.

How brilliant it is within the truth of what is.

Just like in art, the dark and the light make it beautiful. I would give nothing for my journey today.

There is no part I could have skipped. Each part made me who I am today.