I M Perfect lady

I'm perfect – it's impossible not to be.

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about – A Fiber Artist -passionate about women empowering.

  • The War of Art

    "The War of Art" by Steven Pressfield


    "Fundamentalism"

    "The artist and the fundamentalist both confront the same issue, the mystery of their existence as individuals.  Each asks the same questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of life?"

    "At more primitive stages of evolution, humanity didn't have to deal with such questions.  In the states of savagery, of barbarism, in nomadic culture, medieval society, in the tribe and the clan, one's position was fixed by the commandments of the community.  It was only with the advent of modernity (starting with the ancient Greeks), with the birth of freedom and of the individual, that such matters ascended to the fore."

    "These are not easy questions. Who am I? Why am I here? They're not easy because human being isn't wired to function as an individual.  We're wired tribally, to act as part of a group.  Our psyches are programmed by millions of years of hunter-gatherer evolution.  We know what the clan is; we know how to fit into the band and the tribe. What we don't know is how to be alone. We don't know how to be free individuals."

    "The artist and the fundamentalist arise from societies at differing stages of development. The artist is the advanced model.  His culture possesses affluence, stability, enough excess of resource to permit the luxury of self-examination.  The artist is grounded in freedom.  He is not afraid of it.  He is lucky.  He was born in the right place.  He has a core of self-confidence, of hope for the future. He believes in progress and evolution. His faith is that humankind is advancing, however haltingly and imperfectly, toward a better world."

    "The fundamentalist entertains no such notion.  In his view, humanity has fallen from a higher state. The truth is not out there awaiting revelations; it has already been revealed. The word of God has been spoken and recorded by His prophet, be Jesus, Muhammand, or Karl Marx."

    "Fundamentalism is the philosphy of the powerless, the conquered, the displaced and the dispossessed.  Its spawning ground is the wreckage of political and military defeat, as Hebrew fundamentalism arose during the Babylonian captivity, as white Christian fundamentalism appeared in the American South during the Reconstruction, as the notion of the Master Race evolved in Germany following World War I.  In such desperate times, the vanquished race would perish without a doctrine that restored hope and pride.  Islamic fundamentalism ascends from the same landscape of despair and possesses the same tremendous and potent appeal."

    "What exactly is this despair?  It is the despair of Freedom. The dislocation and emasculation experienced by the individual cut free from the familiar and comforting structures of the tribe and the clan, the village and the family."

    "It is the state of modern life."

    "The fundamentalist (or, more accurately, the beleaguered individual who comes to embrace fundamentalism) cannot stand freedom. He can't find his way into the future, so he retreats to the past.  He returns in imagination to the glory days of his race and seeks to reconstitute both them and himself in their purer, more virtuous light. He gets back to the basics.To Fundamentals."

    "Fundamentalism and art are mutually exclusive. There is no such thing as fundamentalist art. This does not mean that the fundamentalist is not creative. Rather, his creativity is inverted.  He creates destruction. Even the structures he builds, his schools and networks of organizations, are dedicated to annihilation, of his enemies and of himself."

     "But the fundamentalist reserves his greatest creativity for the fashioning of Satan, the image of his foe, in opposition to which he defines and gives meaning to his own life. Like the artist, the fundamentalist experiences Resistance. he experiences it as temptation to sin. Resistance to the fundamentalist is the call of the Evil One, seeking to seduce him from his virtue. The fundamentalist is consumed with Satan, whom he loves as he loves death. Is it coincidence that the suicide bombers of the World Trade Center frequented strip clubs during their training, or that they conceived of their reward as a squadron of virgin brides and the license to ravish them in the fleshpots of heaven? The fundamentalist hates and fears woman because he sees them as vessels of Satan, temptresses like Delilah who seduces Samson from his power."

    "To combat the call of sin, i.e., Resistance, the fundamentalist plunges either into action or into the study of sacred texts. He loses himself in these, much as the artist does the process of creation. The difference is that while the one looks forward, hoping to create a better world, the other looks backward, seeking to return to a purer world from which he and all have fallen."

    "The humanist believes that humankind, as individuals, is called upon to co-create the world of God.  This is why he values human life so highly.  In his view, things do progress, life does evolve; each individual has value, at least potentially, in advancing this cause. The fundamentalist cannot conceive of this. In his society, dissent is not just crime but apostasy; it is heresy, transgression against God Himself."

    "When the fundamentalist wins, the world enters the dark age. Yet still I can't condemn one who is drawn to this philosophy.  I consider my own inner journey, the advantages I've had of education, affluence, family support, health, and the blind good luck to be born American, and still I have learned to exist as an autonomous individual, if indeed I have, only by a whisker, and at the cost I would hate to have to reckon up."

    "It may be that the human race is not ready for freedom. The air of liberty may be too rarefied for us to breathe. Certainly I wouldn't be writing this book, on the subject, if living with freedom was easy. The paradox seems to be, as Socrates demonstrated long ago, that the truly free individual is free only to the extent of his own self-mastery. While those who will not govern themselves are condemned to find masters to govern over them."  Steven Pressfield.

    I find this very interesting how the "fundamentalist" is looking to go backward and the artist to go forward.  One is dancing with the devil.  How similar is the FALC to the fundamentalist.

     

  • Where it is wanted.

    Today I was once again, or I was STILL reviewing the two events on Saturday; one a beautiful wedding and the other the collision of estrangement..my family of origin and I…many I hadn't seen face to face in almost 9 years.  

    The two events couldn't be further apart in sentiment and energy and yet they were being played out in real time one on top of the other.

    These two events were mostly being felt by my estranged family and I.  The rest of the guests came only to one party…or so I think.

    I wonder, if all weddings and funerals and other life celebrations have this double gathering?

    On one hand social niceties would be expected…and the other cool detachment of estrangement…some expecting a forced nice.

    I also suspect the same double life exists in many families….where abuse is hidden behind the normal activities of life.  

    Where you are supposed to put aside your differences and party on.

    It seems so inauthentic and a loss of ground or being encroached upon.

    This also feels like my first 46 years of life, whereas you would just ignore and play friendly with folks who you had negative feelings towards.  Put your feelings aside and please people…in order to keep the party or normal life going.

    Perhaps the wedding with estranged guests mirrors exactly a dysfunctional life.

    Where the 'negatives' come to the party, but we all mingle and pretend all is well with thee.

    My post traumtic feelings, or high anxiety and repugnent feelings are to be put back into that same energy field.

    What I also felt helpless about, and I know this has to be true for most children of abuse, IS that I DIDN'T WANT TO BE THE ONE TO RUIN THE WEDDING. 

    Like it was Me who invited them….or me who ignited the hostile feelings…etc.  Me who wouldn't pretend is the party pooper.

    We dont' have to wonder about why it is so tough for a child to stand up against abuse…for it is pretty tough to be the lone ranger and be made to feel it is your fault for the turmoil.  If I would only 'let it go' and 'forgive and move on' we would all be one big happy family. 

    Where there didn't have to be separate parties.

    Where all would feel free to come and go.

    The reason most dysfunctional families continue to flourish, is that very few will stop attending functions or life celebrations…they 'bury the hatchet' and get back in the social graces…and before you know it life returns to 'normal' and the abuse is like it never existed.

    But it did.

    It not only did, but it is continuing on.  Just because you have buried your memories or the feelings and rage, or forgiven it, it doesn't mean it has disappeared.  It will come back.  

    The legacy of abuse is that when you return to family as usual, when things are back as they were before, it means, the little ones are once again in harms way.  You have not taken the steps to eliminate the threat of abuse.

    I know they believe that since my father is dead, abuse has died…that the children are now safe.

    It is not.  

    Our family had abuse coming in from all angles….inside the house, inside the relatives and inside of the neighborhood.  Abuse flourished in our relationship for over 40 years…due to the exact behaviors I see now.

    Abuse knows which families to visit and which ones will be harder to penetrate.

    I see the deck stacked with folks who are so unaware of what evil even is….and who allow anyone near their children…I see my mother in many of them. 

    As they think I am the biggest enemy or the one to keep away from….abuse sneaks in closer, becoming friendly…accepted by the adults. And adults unaware.

    It isn't IF abuse will strike again, but when and from where?

    It is like watching a train wreck about to happen…while the adults are busy being sisters….being family by overlooking the very thing that is feeding upon the little ones.

    And, there is nothing I can do to stop it.

    They keep seeing me as the problem, when I am trying to be the impetus for change….to stop the legacy of abuse.

    Abuse/perpetrators love that they are looking at me as the problem for it leaves no eyes on them.

    My family of origin had abuse coming from all angles, because the level of people my parents were attracted to were of the same kind…if you overlook and excuse abuse, abuse will follow you…and be your friend.  It only stays where it is wanted.

    "The highest treason a crab can commit is to make a leap for the rim of the bucket." Steven Pressfield

     

  • Define as Love.

    My behaviors seem odd, strange and a bit dramatic, IF you can't see the reasons for why I act this way.  

    I can understand the confusion, for I went along with the show for 46 years and then, all of a sudden, I saw or felt or became aware of the insults to my soul…when another little girl spoke of being abused by my father…I saw her…and me….and him.

    What I had once called family and normal, was now the complete opposite.

    I now see, you can't act different, UNLESS you see different.

    What I know for sure, is that they will be upset with me as long as they are okay with her (mother). 

    This somehow makes me feel better.

    Of course they would get angry at me and have expectations of me being a daughter and a sister, when they can't see/feel the actions of abuse.  

    I become the irrational one, the odd acting weird one. 

    What really is unreal, is that all kinds of characters will fit into this group, anyone is welcome who see it as family. And, not a dysfunctional family, but family. Although, this switches from time to time.  

    I was told I am not the only victim of sexual abuse in the family.

    But, I am also told that they are not dyfunctional and they don't like to be labeled as such.  

    It is like a White Family not wanting to be seen as white, really.  

    What I love the most, is that they characters within the family can't not act normal, their dysfunction keeps showing.  And yet, I am the odd one for saying it is so.

    Not only saying it, but backing away from it…and not calling it love, family or kind.

    I became dysfunctional in the family of dysfunction.

    In the family of dysfunction; you have no say.

    You have no needs.

    What you say doesn't matter.

    No one sees you…or your pain. 

    And no matter what someone does to you, you stay.

    The "Family" matters more than the individual and her needs.

    If and when sexual abuse or neglect or verbal abuse arrives, you are to look the other way…tuck it down deep and keep the family alive.

    Pardon the mother's words…for she is mental.

    Excuse the father's actions….for he is sick.

    Overlook a sister's anger…for she doesn't mean it.

    Overlook, pardon and excuse any negative behaviors to keep the family running smooth. Don't notice and nothing is wrong…or notice but don't act upon it.

    "Thank God for all that we have and that we are all here together".…in family.

    You either stay in deaf and blind….or you are out. 

    I still feel better it isn't that they can't see the abuse, but that they can't tolerate my healthy or new response to it.

    I believe they are all aware (subconsciously) of the swirling energies of neglect and awkward movements and are still working hard to make it a family.

    I know how hard this can be.  I did it.  I too worked like hell to shore up the deficiencies my parents had…until I became to exhausted, tired and plum wore out.

    I stopped.

    I stopped trying to make them anything but what they were.

    I didn't dress up by over compensating for their negative actions.

    I let them just be.

    And, the family broke and dysfunction lay littered everywhere.

    I didn't have a speck of energy to pretend to pretend to pretend to be a daughter or sister…in that mess.  

    It wasn't me that started it and it will not be me that ends it.

    All I could do was save myself and undo and redefine what is love and kindness.

    I leave them on the porch, believing that they are family.

    They see me as leaving a family.

    I see me as leaving dysfunction and sexual and physical and verbal abuse.

    We see each other from own perspective…and with what we define as love.


     

  • Remains the Same

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    For the past few days I have sat in Reflection…allowing myself to process and feel the events…the encounters or the lack thereof…to see what is what or what is not.

    What I failed to consider, oddly, is how others see me and/or speak of me…and in my mother's case, tell lies about me.  

    It boggles my mind, that while I have been pointing out the things my parents did or the things my siblings did…I couldn't understand why they were so unaware of the changes in themselves.  When in fact, they have not changed at all.  I have.

    I am the only one who has changed and they are upset by this.

    My father remained unchange to the end.

    My mother too is staying completely in character of herself.  Nothing has changed. She never took my side as a child.  She still lies about my actions now. She is not a newer version of herself…she is the same lady that was with me as a child.

    I have been trying to show others in my writings an abusive mother…like it is something new.  I can't.  She is as she has always been this way.

    I had wondered why so many are upset with Me and not her.  How they couldn't see the abusive parts.  When I was asking them to see what they have always seen and called normal.

    My mother has not changed a bit…so they love/like and are still loyal to the one mother.

    They are upset with me, because I am no longer my self.  

    I am different.

    I respond different.

    I seen the picture of them all on a porch surrounding my mother…and it puzzled me. I couldn't understand how they could support this woman who is abusive.  But, they are unable to see the abuse for they were raised in.  Like white on rice.  I was asking them to see something that has always been there.

    How can you.

    The reason they see me and are enraged and angered by me, Is that I am not like the old self.  I am completely different. 

    I just didn't get that the only thing changed in our dysfunctional family was me.

    Everyone and every thing else continued on as if nothing happened. And, they are keeping a spot open in case I change my mind.  I am the one who has fallen out of step, gotten out of line, the rest are all the same and okay.

    How did I miss this???

    How did I not know that the reason I am on their shit list is not because I see my mother as abusive or that my father is a pedophile.  It is because I no longer move like one of them.

    It has never been about my parents.

    It has only been about me.

    Their sights are on me because I am acting different.  NOT because WHY I am acting different.  Or for the simple fact that my parents were not who they said they were.

    They are okay with two-sidedness. They are not okay with me doing things differently.  Even if different is right.

    Doing what is right is wrong IF it isn't what my mother would do.

    Their choices are not about doing what is right.

    The only choices are what will keep my mother looking normal.

    And, they are willing and very able to toss anyone aside who doesn't play along.

    The only way my mother is normal is when a porch full of people believe her to be…or do not challenge her actions and words.

    And, the only way I am wrong, is that same porch full believing that I am. 

    What I also just didn't know, is the messed up mother in the center of the porch, IS the very one who speaks wrongly of me.

    This is what families of dysfunction do. They put the blame of abuse upon the one who is innocent and never look at the parent and see their wrongness.

    What I know for sure, is that my mother alone couldn't tear me down, it took all the folks standing around her to agree.

    They all agree that I am wrong…no matter what she does, I am wrong for how I respond. 

    Especially if it means shaking the foundation of the family…the family only stands if everyone remains the same.


  • We are at Peace when we are apart.

    My feelings and body's radar was spot on.  I have had words sent to me that tell me so.  I was also surprised that my mother told two different versions of an encounter with me…both painted her in glowing colors and me not looking so good.  In both stories I spoke to her…unkind words.  My lips never moved.  Interesting and oh so telling.

    It surprised me….and then not.  She has been painting her world to suit her needs and her story and to keep folks believing in her.

    How sad she continues to paint me black.

    And what I have always suspected is they never hear her lies…as well as they never hear my truth.  The thing that has ridden along for many years, "Not being Believed."  

    Her credibility still stands after being married to a pedophile for 49 years….who wouldn't believe her integrity???

    What I guess I am also surprised by is that they expected something different from me; social graces.  I know I failed at this.  I am not there…and not sure I will ever get there. I didn't have it in me to say a word of welcome…for my body didn't feel welcome, it wanted to turn them away.

    I knew it was going to feel bad for me….and now I know it wasn't pleasant for them either….but that is why we don't co-mingle.  

    I don't believe there will be a way to have us in the same space without there being drama or uneasiness, or anxiety… I just can't see how it could be done.  I see it as the truth and denial mixing and they may refute that.

    Which is why I will always stay away from anyone of their family affairs.  I refuse to bring drama to their days.  I give them space and oodles of it…

    I am glad for the messages for they showed me once again, who they are…and why we have kept our mutual distances.  We are at peace when we are apart.

  • But She had Wings….

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    An hour before the wedding, I rounded the corner and headed up this road, and recalled the afternoon we spent decorating….and all our efforts shown like touchable love…its presence overwhelmed me…along with a belly full of dread…I almost erupted into an ugly cry that would have taken over my whole body, instead I gulped, swore and vowed to stand strong on this day…somehow and preserve a wedding.

    How can it be possible for the human body to hold two completely different emotions at once?  The most beautiful dream and the terrifying nightmare?  The chest full of love and a belly of fear…

    The Universe walked with me all day…keeping me very busy up until the last hour.

    I baked muffins, and prepared a snack for the girls primping session at the house.  I washed/cleaned my daughter's car.  Oh, and cleaned the house before even baking…I walked the dogs and I cut my son's hair…(after being wedding ready, I had to change into haircutting clothes….and then back into wedding garb.) and few other last minute tasks for the Hall.  

    Too busy to ponder the actual collision course I was on.

    I knew they were coming, I was braced…and stayed braced for 4 hours.  I was braced and embraced.


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    It was like the consciousness would flip from beauty to estrangment or maybe just strange…back to love and beauty and then into stress.

    I had no clue how to navigate these rolling waters…but I was buckled up to ride.

    The Universe was on my side as best it could be…while it brought me back into the sea of childhood emotions…to see things in a broader view.  Dipping me perhaps in the past and then in the future, like an insane carnival ride.

    If you look upon the beauty and innocence of the day; washed in love…and juxtaposition it with estranged family members, it almost mimics the life an abused child.

    At one point, while sitting in the front row…waiting for the ceremony to begin, two hands dropped down on my shoulders and a voice spoke in my ear…."I didn't know this was you sitting here…" What he didn't know is that was I bracing for this….and it still was a shock to have it happen.  It was out of the blue a voice from the past…with layers and volumes wrapped up in it.

    I have years worth of things to say to them, but none they can hear…and I have nothing to say…so I say little.

    What struck me most was the presence and sheer volume of them…swarming my space, the forrest, the trees and sun…focus wavered and drew back.

    Once the ceremony began my heart was where it should be…overwhelming with warmth and gratitude that I have this love…that I can feel and give this love…and then, roaring back to fear.

    For once I had to leave my chair, I felt vulnerable and approachable…and they did approach, at least some.  But, I wasn't an open invitation…I was sending out signals some could read, others were too intent and barrelled in.

    I am not sure why some did and some held back, there seems to be no protocol for the estranged to seek or not seek the black sheep.

    And the black sheep either feels cornered or surprised.

    After the usual wedding photographs required, I was able to move away from the wedding scene….I was a mixture of emotions once again…never being able to stay in the relaxing comfort of love and my family….but seeking to be away, to be less accessible.

    I stayed, but no longer than neccessary, no lingering/chatting and passing the breeze…but fleeing instead from their energies.

    What I forgot to remember, to remember, I was only free for a limited time….and then this insanity would begin once again…when the reception started, but for now I was alone.

    It was on to the hall….

    Mother of the bride tasks awaited and I was busy and occupied and then, they began to dribble in….early.

    Some made eye contact when we passed, others kept their gaze down…

    We know each are present but wanting to remain unseen.  

    The eyes know the truth of our separation as do our hearts and the mind wants to pretend to pretend we are thankful that we are all here together….but my body knew and read each signal and registered "not safe"…making me steer clear.

    Not only unsafe, but UN-Wedding like it would be to drag into this wedding space the histories between me and each of them.  Like a ton of baggage dumped into our careful wedding preparations…and I felt like I was the only one keeping the garbage at bay.

    While keeping the mother of the bride gig going….bracing once again and embracing.

    I believe that there were two mother of the brides there that night….one that was reaching out and engaging and one that was closed down and protecting.

    Not free to move about freely in the room, but had to navigate the tricky waters trying not to hit a bump of the past…while keeping the event flowing effortlessly.

    They only had to slip around and by me, and I had at least 3 tables full.  Their presence was group energy… to one…with the matriarch taking the lead.

    How does one create a party atmosphere for her daughter with such loaded histories with so many guests?  It isn't one ex-spouse or one lost friend, but many…the odds were so stacked against me…or so it seemed.

    At times, I still am unable to know why it was set up this way…that I had to have a loving wedding intermixed with _______.  I don't even know what to call it.

    Each person has its own history…beginning and ending and middle. And each came for reasons.  Each I have known for years…loved and then lost…or lost and never found…or maybe have never known.

    Family to estrangement is a very weird path.

    My mother kept her distance until the final hour.  She had me in her sights and was approaching fast, I put up my hand, palm up, turned my head and walked away.

    I mean really?  Like we were going to stage a______ in the middle of a wedding reception. And, not just any ole reception by my daughters. Really?  That was the time and the place of her choosing.  Really?  She has been up here all summer long…and decides to make her move in public on her granddaughter's wedding day.

    No said the Palm, not today.

    And, I am or will be seen and experienced as the bitch, the cold hearted one, the one who refused to approach. Really?  To approach and do what in the middle of the wedding? 

    Is is possible that she feels the whole setup was staged for her? For our reunion? For our what???  It wasn't about her and it certainly isn't about me.  It was all created for my daughter, ALL of it was for her and her husband's special day.

    How strange that some use weddings and funerals as reunions….as meeting spots for the estranged.

    When the last one left, my body relaxed for the first time…in a week.  

    I was bruised inside and in my heart.

    I felt cheated of the full breath and depth of my daughters wedding.

    I was not able to ignore such a huge section of the guest list.

    I was not able to remain poised and in joy…but had to keep jostling into estrangment.  

    I am not sure I could have done anything different and remained me….and true to my heart and soul, my little girl inside.  She couldn't act and be like nothing happened…no matter what day it was…she held her ground and her line…in the unfair game of tug-o-war.

    I am pleased I made it through the whole day and did not leave the wedding or the reception, even if had to leave the feelings of wedding from time to time….I remained in the room….in the space, with those whom I have been estranged from for many years now.

    I stayed with the wedding.  My love for my daughter never left.  My reasons for estrangement never left.  Nothing seemed to change, just that we were all together in the space.

    The energies and the dynamics of my roller coaster feelings echoed that of an abused child; from love to fear – from relaxing to bracing.

    I also believe that this time I was being forced into the space with the knowledge of knowing who they were….without the veil of denial; to see perhaps and feel once again the content of my childhood emotions.

    What I know for sure, is that a child doesn't have my home to go to.

    My husband to love and be loved by.

    A warm and safe environment.

    I can't imagine how a child stays in that atmosphere, minus the love and beauty of the wedding.

    I barely made it through the night…well, four hours.  

    My body felt the presence of ill intent, of indifference, of disbelief, of all the myriad of voices and emotions of abuse. They penetrate the body and psyche no matter how you brace yourself, they flow unencumbured…entering into the loving space inside of your body. Fancy Wedding clothes doesn't stop them from reaching deep inside.

    My body and psyche simply can't be around them.  

    It hurts.

    And, it doesn't when their gone.

    I feel affirmed that I the reasons I left are still there, nothing has changed while I have been gone.  That my body, mind and soul are not at peace in their presence; but feel it when they are gone.  

    I know I am blamed for staying back and keeping my back to them…but what they fail to appreciate is why?

    "When she transformed into a butterfly,

    the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but her weirdness.

    They wanted her to change back into what she had always been.

    But she had wings"  Dean Jackson



  • For those you Love!

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    In the woods on rehearsal night…it just couldn't have been nicer, warmer or prettier…


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    Everyone was relaxed and I felt, "why wait, lets just do the wedding now….while it is perfect!"


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    Everyone being their relaxed selves, coming along the pond, flower girls dropping hearts cut from colored leaves….what could be more perfect??? 


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    Love walking….


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    Love smiling and holding hands…such great spirits!


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    Love in music and words… 

    (Rehearsal Photos taken by Madeline Huhta)


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    Love in preparing for the Hall…


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    Love is patient….very patient…working out each small detail.  Two of these flowers graced each table.


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    The door in the background had pictures of family….another nice touch.


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    The Candy Bar.  Oh My!  Each piece again thoughtfully selected…the bride spared no detail!


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    Down to the Guest Book (quilt)….which I completed with her color selection.  She found the door in our barn…to complete the added touch.


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    And, all of this before the actual wedding!  

    I didn't take pictures on Wedding day, the photographer will cover that 🙂

    The attention to details all made up for an over the top wedding in my book.  Perfect in so many ways!  Love doesn't arrive…it happens in again lives in the small details, with patience, effort and work.  Doing what you love, for those you love!

  • My daughter’s heart.

    If there is to be a woman disappointed with the wedding, It is so much better that it be me…than the Bride.

    As two woman enter into this day, I can see the dynamics of Mother and Daughter.

    I see me and her and I see me and my mother.

    I see the differences and the usual power game.

    I see the actions and the non-actions.

    I see me in a very tenuous spot….the choice between my needs and hers.

    This is the very crux and center of how it is to leave behind my childhood and grow into a mom.

    Where it isn't about what I want or need anymore, Or me finally getting my childhood needs met, but rather me NOT wounding my daughter.

    I am in a unique position.  

    I can get bogged down….easily…in my feelings about what is not there between my mother and I. And, even in wanting My wishes to finally be realized. That she finally see me or hear me and acknowledge me. I can easily feel the sorrow and rage at once again being ignored….the dark empty hole that beckons.

    It is like going towards the dark or following the Light.

    I can be the mother I didn't have…instead of engaging with the hole.

    I can mother my daughter in ways that will heal the hole.

    It will not make it right between my mother and I, but it will keep it right between my daughter and I.

    I can now see how or why a mother refuses to follow her daughter's dreams or wishes….It is when hers have not been met. She then is forever left seeking what she didn't have.

    I have given up on finding what is not there to get.  And, in fact I have given to myself what my mother was incapable in giving.  

    I gave myself the ears to hear me.

    I gave myself the eyes to see me.  

    I have acknowledge me…not only my darkest wounds but my brightness too.

    I let go of the dream being seen by my mother.

    I have a new dream.

    My bigger dream or perhaps new dream was to end the legacy of abuse.

    In this dream, I be the mother I didn't have.

    I do the opposite…

    Yet, I do acknowledge and feel the one (mother) who put the hole in me…and I get to move away from her, while attending to my daughter's needs.

     It is a new dance for me to have them both present in one space.  

     And there will be no competition in who I pay attention to.  

    It certainly will not be the one who put such a dark spot on my soul.

    She will be there.  I will feel her presence in a negative way.  

    But the choice will continue to be…what is good for my daughter.

    It isn't about me…my mother daughter dream was shattered a long while back.

     All the steps I have taken have been to re-set the pattern.  To stop the cycle of self absorption…to give what I never got.

    A mother's eyes to see you.

    A mother's ears to hear you.

    A mother…who will do anything for their child.

    Even walk among the estranged….to feel again, in each encounter, what isn't there…while also feeling the love in those who see me.

    I am so grateful I can see the road in both directions and what the consequences would be…depending upon who I try to please.

    One would unravel the dream of ending the cycle of abuse…the other will plant more beautiful consequences of love. 

    I can see that If I were to please me I would put a hole in my daughters heart.


     

     

     

  • My Daughter’s Dreams

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    The road to the wedding!  Literally.

    What came to me is that my daughter has given me the opportunity to learn how to be a loving mom.  How to listen to her needs and orchestrate the final product, to NOT inject my own dreams and wishes, but to make hers come true.

    The smallest detail is a piece of her dream.  

    We all have worked and tried to reach its zenith.

    Dreams are realized in the steps you take…in the effort you put forth.

    I know that IF the success of this wedding is based on effort, it is already a smash hit!  In love we all have done our very best…


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    My daughter has worked with her dad to get this space Wedding Ready…a few hours spent every other week or so, all summer long…cutting grass, weed whacking, brush hogging, tree trimming….etc.  

    Some think it is about One Day, but it really is all the giving and sharing and enjoying our time together…Before the Big Day.


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    To me, it almost seems like most will miss the whole picture, by only catching a glimpse of the finished piece…that the love was in the process of preperation!

    (I would love to share the handmade items, and will….but after the wedding!)

    What I know for sure, is I am able to follow my daughter's dreams!

  • A roar

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    WIND Ladies took in the Clothesline Project…we who are trying to create a movement…and in order to do that we need movement.


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    It doesn't mean helping the broken….it means stopping the ones who break others by abusing them.  What we call "Prevention" is to educate the potential victims in how to protect themselves.  Instead we need to begin treating the abusers AS abusers and the ones doing the hurt and stop calling them "family" or "Friend".

    Most of us keep looking out into the community for help when it begins in each of your relationships.  Each time you overlook an act of violence you are contributing to the problem.  It is time we empower or over power the abusers by calling them out.  Speak their names….refuse to call them father/brother/uncle and friend!

    You teach people how to treat you….are you teaching Violence and Abuse is okay?


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    Silence and inaction with abuse WILL NOT bring an end to violence, but is actually participating with indifference. 

    I am not sure we can end violence with prayer and kindness, for if it was helpful, the abusers would be 'healed'.  They are not stopped by words and awareness, they are only stopped when you remove yourself and others from their grasps…..and to speak their name.  

    As I walked along the clothesline, I was struck with the ineffectiveness this project truly has….The words were brilliant, the messages clear…but they don't seem to make people move.  I understand the intentions, but wonder about the actual response….will they make people move away from abusers in their worlds???


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    I guess it all has to start somewhere….it begins with a whisper and eventually works itself to a roar!