I M Perfect lady

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  • Ambiguity and Authenticity.

    Ambiguity and Authenticity have to be polar opposites.

    I was wrong…the opposites of ambiguity are; direct, decisiveness, straightforwardness, exactness, clearness, brightness, obviousness.…etc….so its opposite is unclear, not direct, not exact…not obvious.

    In my exchanges with a few siblings…what stands out the most is the indecisiveness….the waffling back and forth.

    I am accused of being wrong when I label them as abused.

    I am then accused of grand standing AS the ONLY one being abused, and told they too were abused.

    I was accused of being part and party to the abuse years ago, and now I am seen as a family wrecker today.  When the actions of before and after are completely different.  You can't have it both ways I keep saying…..

    But, they can.

    There is nowhere for me to gain ground with them.

    I would be damned no matter what….well I am damned no matter what.

    This is how I know clearly it isn't about me.  For I have been two ways and it hasn't changed their worlds.  If it was about me, then at one point things would be going smoothly….either in the years where my father was abusing or in the years I stepped away from him.  Something should have changed in their worlds IF I am the one controlling them.

    Easy to blame the sister/daughter who is nowhere near their lives; than it is to look in the mirror.

    What I know for sure…for me, is that I need something that is not flipping and changing and two sided.  I need steady and clear decisions.  I need folks to be who they are always.  Not the 'kind' public persona and then lambasting me behind the scenes.  I don't know who you are.  I don't trust you kindness, when the ugly erupts.

    I know how this is.  

    That was me for 46 years.

    I would be kind and then spew hatred and anger and rage….and then back to kindness.  What I have discovered of me, was that my anger and rage was for the duplicity of my parents. My fears of not knowing who would appear….

    What I know for me, is that I don't trust folks who are unable to own who they are.

    I can handle dysfunction if they are working towards eradicating it in their lives…victims of abuse who are learning how they became so backwards and are working like hell to undo the damage. But, I dont' know what to do with those who scream they are kind, normal and blessed….coming from abuse.

    I looked up again….authenticity.

    Authenticity is defined as "real or genuine : not copied or false. : true and accurate. : made to be or look just like an original. - Conforming to fact and therefore worthy of trust, reliance, or belief. Trustworthy or genuine.

    I would rather be with authentically dysfunctional folks who know they are not right….than to be with those who have no idea who they are and how they contaminate this world.

    I just can't believe that my authenticity with my dysfunction is harmful….but, I can believe that their denial about the depths of their dysfunction is harmful in ways they would be shocked to see IF they were aware.

    Our paths are different….and worlds apart….as far as ambiguity is from authenticity.


     

  • Normality in Ambiguity.

    What I got left with, after all the mind twisting and thought turning, was how does a 'kind' person show their boundaries?  If you can't step back or move away from things that insult your soul, then how can we, watching you, know how you truly feel or who you are?

    What can we trust about you when there isn't a clear you…an outline of boundaries that clearly define who you are?

    I was struck by the blurry vision or mixed messages that assaulted me…in the ambiguity of who my siblings really were.

    And, it then led me to wonder how this amibiguity was the image we were given of our parents; hence ourselves.

    That my father, due to his acting out in abusive ways, was not just one solid self, but a double vision.

    My mother also had two sides…one being a 'good' christian woman, but one who allowed an abusive man to live in her home.

    This ambiguity gave us the license to be two faced.

    That being two-sided was normal.

    And…kind.

    And…Non-judgmental.

    Even, loving.

    When I no longer have two sides, but one crystal clear out-line of me, I am not 'easy' to be with.  For, I won't flip to the 'easy' side, that allows anything.

    What I feel is that they want me to capitulate and roll over and be friendly…while inside I am not feeling that.

    This technique, of doing that which you don't feel, feels very abusive to me…or it has echoes of it.

    That you are doing that which you don't feel like doing, but you do it to make someone else 'feel good'.

    As I view my siblings and my mother, I can't see a clear picture of who they are, I see no out-lined set point of what they stand for and what they stand against.  They have no clearly set apart self, but move as a group.

    Either a group called family.

    Or a group called church.

    But, not as a one…character.

    I don't truly know who they are and what they stand for.

    What I feel is that they will fall for anything.

    In my new awareness or understanding…kindness has critical lines and boundaries.

    Kindness is solid.

    Value has one side.

    Respect, love, honor do not twist in the wind and become something else; when it is too hard or uncomfortable.

    I see the affects of living in a home with two-sided parents; whose real truth was covered up, to be that we learned to live without a clear sense of who we were….for we were asked to be something we were not.

    In abuse you are asked/demanded or bullied into something you don't want to do.

    I feel that my family now is subjecting me to the same tone of abuse.

    In that, they are wanting from me something I am not freely giving; due to their nature of being two-sided.

    Abuse in families adds the second side.

    It goes from normal…to abnormal and the combination is ambiguity.

    And Ambiguity's definition….

    Something that does not have a single clear meaning…

    Doubtfulness or uncertainty of meaning or intention: to speak with ambiguity; anambiguity of manner. 2. an unclear, indefinite…

    Something with ambiguity is unclear.

    What I feel is that my family is asking me to support and stand with ambiguity…to remain loyal and committed to ambiguity.

    For there is no clear message of love, with abuse tossed in on top.

    I do understand and appreciate where they are coming from….that living in the two faced world gives you a pattern and role model to follow. Where what you feel and how you act do not have to match…and who you are and how you act can be complete opposites. They find comfort and normality in ambiguity.


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    I was so drawn to nature, for there was no ambiguity!  It was as it appeared; always.


  • Listen to how I feel.

    I just read the line, "inauthentic authenticity" and how there is a trend in being authentic, and how many are not honest…in their authenticity.

    I read this after doing yoga this morning….and what came to me there was how difficult it truly is to live authentically; for it will require you to never pretend in order to 'spare' another's feelings for example.

    The road that I chose many years ago was to go towards love, peace and joy…and keeping away from things that hurt me or disrespected me or were indifferent.

    It was to live authentically with my self.

    It wasn't designed to make me appear kinder to those who for various reason did not bring me love, peace and joy….it did however make me respond authentically to their messages.

    This wasn't always easy to react or respond…"Move away from things that did not feel good inside of me" for typically the behavior was attached to someone who carried the label 'family'.

    Some Christians continue to preach "Do Not Judge" and "Be Loving and kind to all" and I believe they are being inauthentic or dishonest with their authenticity; by discounting their feelings when in the presence of hurtful people.

    To me, it is not kind in any form to pretend or try to love that which you feel repulsed by, frightened of, abused by, shamed by, lowered by etc.  

    What I hear is that the 'kind' person HAS to work harder to LOVE the 'unlovable'….but that those bringing negative energies don't have to do anything…they get to sit in the chair called "Don't Judge Me – Just Love Me."

    And, then if the Christian or Kind Person can't feel peaceful or loving….THEY have a problem. 

    To me, if you try not feel your feelings as they are or overstep and discount them, you are not living authentically. AND, sadly you're doing this to make the person who is hurting you FEEL better.

    This to me is the dance and courtship of abuse.

    Where the abusers sit in the easy chair of non-judgement and no-remorse and no-change and the Kind Folks are challenged to feel loving, no matter what.

    When I walked among the family of estrangement, I stayed true to form within me.

    Nothing within me wanted to get close and be friendly.  It, and I knew, that we had experienced non-loving energies and were not going to pretend otherwise in order to make them comfortable…and betray my feelings inside.

    My feelings are me.

    My feelings are my guide and gauge to my authenticity.

    Steering me towards love, peace and joy….and away from indifference, disrespect, self-absorbed hurtful folks.

    I can only be authentic when I listen to how I feel.

  • Your Comfort is at Stake.

    There are times when it is hard to see the big picture, while living in each tiny frame, when there is no space to see how it is actually going; are you living the life you want?

    Just as a sweater is knitted, one stitch at a time, it is each stitch being knitted correctly that makes the final product.

    Looking backwards with review, I can see the new pattern…and how completely different it appears to the old.  They are two completely different stitches being created…moment by moment.

    As I recounted The Wedding and the guests from my past, I was able to see clearly how I accomplished my mission.  I may have failed the old pattern, but I was successful in stitching the new.

    Here is what I know for sure; my daughter's special day was first on the agenda.

    It was a wedding…and I was the mother of the bride.

    It was my duty to keep the wedding first, always.

    And, in doing so kept my daughter first.

    What was good for her….and not what my own preferences were or what would be easier for me, or what would make me look kinder, nicer, more this or that.  It wasn't about me…Me, had to ride shotgun.

    This may not seem a great feat for many, but if you are changing your family pattern, it is one that I believe takes an enormous amount of self control.

    I have been labeled as self absorbed, controlling, insane, cold, inhumane even, as I was viewed on that day.

    And, yet I feel that I did the opposite of those labels, in my daughter's eyes and in the eyes or view point of a mother.

    And, that is where the real truth lies…or really matter.

    Her wedding day wasn't one where my wishes and desires were to be fulfilled…and I am grateful and proud, I was able to give her what she wanted, EVEN when and IF it was not what was comfortable for me.

    This feat, is what my mother was unable to do.

    To put her child's needs ahead of hers….ever.

    She did not succeed in dropping her needs ahead of mine…when I was a child for sure and even when I was a grown women.  

    The grumblings, rumblings and hateful anger that is directed at me….doesn't come from my child, but from those who wanted me to continue to knit together the old pattern of dysfunction, where I would drop the carefully created new mother garment I have been stitching for the past 9 years, and just unravel it all and be 'kind'…to them.

    Them…

    It then becomes about them.

    Or, a self….their needs. 

    The difference is that I was able to shelf my needs.

    And see the beautiful wedding…to see my daughter getting her needs met.

    This is huge.

    What many (of the haters) fail to appreciate, is that I could have made a huge stink, and drama, by refusing to participate due to their involvement.  I could have made it all about me.  I did not.  I could have not gone…to 'make my point'….etc.

    Instead, I gracefully as I could muster, gave my daughter free reign. AND, in doing so, became the mother my mother could never be.

    While they see me in a variety of negative ways…I see me as being a huge success in that the 'relatives' were disappointed, but the child was seen, heard and honored.

    This is leap of great proportions…that changes me from self absorbed to being a mother who sees her child.

    Sees her child and gives her what she needs…at the cost of my own discomfort.

    And, you know.

    I have been doing what is good for my child, my children, for 9 years.

    I have given up my own personal comfort.

    For it has been greatly uncomfortable to sit with and be with each and every relationship in a large family and find it lacking or hurtful or indifferent and to stay with the truth of what it is…and not pretend.

    To be seen and labeled negatively by the sheer volume of numbers of them is felt at a cellular level.  The barbs strike their targets. And, the only way for me to be 'comfortable' with them again, is to give up the new pattern of being a mom who sees her child.

    I will not.

    In the juxtaposition between Wedding and Estranged guests….were the feelings of success and being able to give to my daughter, that which was never given me….along with sticking to my truths with each of them. 

    To stand estranged.

    To keep my eye on the ball (my daughter) and not drag into her day the needs of me.

    My needs on that day were to be estranged.

    To leave…and have space.

    It was to fight the magnetic pull of fleeing.

    To stay and be there for her day.

    In as much as I had stayed away; I was now being asked to stay.

    I feel that it took great strength to remain in my new pattern surrounded by so many old relationships…AND to keep the wedding in focus.

    I feel that I was able to bring in her day and all its trimmings, even if I was uncomfortable. 

    Again, the two mixing emotions inside…with two very different events going on simultaneously…and not being dragged into the negative landscape in order to 'rescue them' from feeling estranged.  

    We are estranged.

    And, I don't think they can see/feel/or get what it feels like to keep this up with a group of them.  To keep knitting the pattern, with them trying to unravel it.  To keep to the truth, no matter what.

    I am not sure they get what estrangement means or even what it means to walk away from abuse….it is to respect your feelings more than wanting to be perceived as kind.

    And, I don't know if they can appreciate what it takes to see your child first.

    I didn't, until I was able to do it….when your comfort is at stake.



  • Trying Conditions

    My Mail Jeep was in the shop today, needing repairs.  I was thrown back into a vehicle that is 'good enough', it works for delivering mail, but it is not made for it.

    I tried adjusting the passenger seat all the way forward so that I could have sat all the way over, square on the seat, but I couldn't reach the break.  So, I had to move towards the middle…which isn't made for a bottom to sit upon. I knew before the first hour was up, I would have a sore lower back and hip from stretching and sitting so awkwardly….I do.

    I counted down the hours…until I could be released from that position.

    Finally free….I was told by my husband, my Mail Jeep will NoT be ready today, they had to order a part, they were not prepared for the extensive repair.  I will have to return to that car again tomorrow….


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    So, there I was riding along uncomfortable inside and seeing the outside seemingly confused…with fall colors and winter white fighting to be seen.  

    It wasn't much fun to navigate the shoulders of the roads to deliver the mail, with a car, when I am used to being confident in the Jeep.

    What I felt immediately was how lucky am I to have a Right Hand Drive Mail Jeep, that fits this route perfectly!


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    An unsettled Mail Day for sure….inside and outside.  I was trying to be comfortable with trying conditions. 

     

  • Tree of Inspiration!

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    This tree I pass each work day four times…it has a personality to me.  It is an apple tree, but often is quite sparse…and it hangs on to a few leaves long after the rest are gone.  One year it had apples long into winter.  This is the tree that inspired the tree in one of my latest quilts.


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    Her branches seem to flow in one direction….I like that.

    Funny, how there are certain nature spots along the way that become like familiar friends….and they change with the seasons and yet stay the same.


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    Here is a closer view with the few leaves on her limbs. 

    And, the fabric image….she inspired.


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    Tree or Inspiration!

  • What isn’t mine.

    I was given some great advice about what to do when you receive letters/messages etc, written in anger/rage/resentment or just plain unhappiness….to write a small note saying, "this is yours, I am returning it to you."

    Instead I took in the energy and allowed it to be with me for a few days.  Even knowing it wasn't mine, I accepted it.  I love how I can now identify whose it belongs to…and refuse what is sent my way.

    I was playing with fabric, again today.  

    The colors and movement is much brighter and ligher…there is a dance in their steps, a co-mingling of spirits.

    Photo-15
    The background is one whole hand-dyed piece and I chose not to have borders.  I will see how it goes.  I still need to add more definition, like hair, hands etc….

    I tried one lady and it didn't work.  Three seems to feel better.

    It was fun to play with friends on fabric.

    Art fills me with good energy…while the messages contaminated my cells when I brought it in.

    Learning as I go…how different things feel in my body.

    and, sending away what isn't mine.


  • The Reasons why.

    In the last pages of "I am Malala" she speaks of how quiet her country is about her book, and her message….and how they see her so incorrectly.  Amazingly, the very people she is speaking out for, are not able to appreciate her journey.

    She had an outpouring of support from around the world, except from her homeland…instead she receives misconstrued negative messages…or she would be welcome to come back, if she would stop spreading Western Ideas, that the people in power do not want.

    If she were to get back in line, hide under the burka and give up on education and women's rights, she can go home. Or so they say.

    Another part in her story is about her praying to be tall, for she is a very small girl, and after being shot by the Taliban…she feels that God made her so tall that the world can now see her.  They wanted to destroy and make her disappear and the opposite has happened.

    While there are many in her country that are not pleased with her, she is completely accepted by her family; who love and support her as she stands up for women's rights in a country where it has never been so.  She, one little girl, is trying to free thousands of women to create a more civilized society…and doing so has put her own life in danger. 

    And, the men in power feel her power.  Recognize that in empowering women they will lose their control…she is a threat to their uncivilized life styles.

    I can relate to her.  

    I am not in a life threatening climate, but I am feeling that I am fighting for women who are not able to appreciate my efforts. 

    Malala has a bigger dream for the women in her country…a dream most can't wrap their minds around. They have lived and were born in a country where women are not seen…they are not recognized with any value.

    My view of the women born into abusive homes…raised in religions where their freedoms are so limited…are on the spectrum of Malala's invisible women.

    Invisible in Self.

    Invisible…without value; unless they are serving the men or being victimized for the 'pleasure' of the abuser.  

    They are just instruments for power gain by the abuser.

    The men in her country are powerful because they control women.

    Doesn't that just seem insane?

    More powerful to overcome the weaker among them.

    But, isn't that what abuse is?

    The ideology of abusive families are similar to an uncivilized country.  Where the only power men have is to control those weaker than him.  Power gained by intimidating and victimizing, verbally and physically those who have no power.

    When one little girl who challenges their power….they try and shoot her, it shows them to be bullies. And, yet the people in her country blame her for speaking out.

    Not the reasons why.




  • Twilight Feelings.

    A trail of feelings linger, like clouds behind a jet plane…in how I felt sitting between two worlds. Feelings to process or express and maybe just to let them be, as they were…and as I was.

    Nature's brilliance, LOVE, past in its darkness, roles fading and focusing…and the present bright dancing with nature…and shadows lurking.

    This quilt seems to speak it in Art.

     

    IMG_1198

    The focus appears off…and the color combinations seems to work and yet seem at odds.  Perfect for how I felt that day…trying to pull off relaxed in nature with unnatural energies swirling. And, nature and the past fading; dying.  And yet a new chapter opening for my daughter.  It was like I was in a twilight zone…

    I looked up twilight….

    "when the light is half-faded, but the world is not yet totally dark, is twilight. If you are between two states, like asleep and awake…"

    I like this idea, for I was between two states.  Relationships not totally dark, for their presence can arrive at any time…and not totally gone.  And, a secondary twilight between the wedding and their uncomfortable 'reunion'.

    This quilt has tones of twilight.

    IMG_1200.

    There is a tree on my mail route that looks like this one.  A few wispy leaves clinging on….giving it an air of stubborness.


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    This was very intriguing border fabric and I am surprised, but happy with the final outcome.  I still have to find a fabric to do the final binding, and finish machine quilting.  I am pleased she captured my twilight feelings.

  • As an Equal.

    "I Am Malala" by Malala Yousafzai, shows the hard struggle for something so simple; a woman's right to education.  

    What the girl couldn't understand, was why her being knowledgeable was something that threatened Armies and bad men. All she wanted was to go to school.  And, not only did they ban girls from going to school, they bombed the schools.  

    She does give the background climate and the beliefs and religious and various clans and tribes; the perfect backdrop for this to take place.

    This simple concept of no longer educating girls…then flows into other liberties being taken away.  Little by little they lost their rights…one right at a time….out of fear of what would happen if they refused.

    It isn't so much WHAT is taken away, but that they allow it.  Allow it by going along or believing in the religious leaders.  More often the Koran was misinterpreted in order to gain control over the people.

    There seems to be a common thread in what is going on her country and what I feel/sense/see in the strict religions.  The lack of personal freedom…given up out of fear.

    Imagine this young girl being the voice of women in her country….saying it is not okay, that I want to be educated. 

    Imagine using women as pawns to manipulate in order to gain control and power? Who else does this?

    And, who is speaking for the rights of women and girls?

    Her father carried this poem around in his wallet.

    First they came for the communists,

    and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

    Then they came for the socialists,
    and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a socialist.

    Then they came for the trade unionists,
    and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

    Then they came for me,
    and there was no one left to speak for me.  by Martin-Niemöller

    At one point in her story, she says…that her whole country appears to have gone mad, for no one is complaining or striking against their rights being taken away…how they silently give up.

    There is a societal madness that seems to permeate and is spread by silence…upheld by fear.  Fear of NOT going along.

    Where is the fear of losing power or the control of their lives….and the lives of the women and children?

    In her country, male domination is completely in focus.

    And, I see that in the FALC, it is similar…women are being used, just differently.

    Malala said, "it is like they are trying to wipe out all evidence of women in our country" when they had to start hiding behind the burkas…

    The elder women in her country have been taught to disappear, unless they are serving men.

    Their lives are not their lives.

    They are but a parasite living upon the backs of men.

    I know that she lives on the extreme end of the scale, but there are religions where women have no voice in matters that matter.

    She has no freedom to say No.

    No freedom to her own body.

    I see from her story the loud display of control over women.

    The FALC is a quieter show…yet its visual is displayed in the large families and the downtrodden women.

    Malala was lucky to be born unto her father, who treated her like a son, from the moment she was born…she was never seen as less…due to her gender.  He encouraged her to speak out and supported her…while he himself spoke out for women's rights and value.  Most important he lived it…by seeing her as an equal.


July 2026
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