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 other end of abuse!

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    The last time I saw my mother, I felt inside…what is pictured above.  A small woman in comparison to the world, and especially in her presence. A woman without a voice, a choice.  When I walked into her home, three months after my father's arrest, I felt like above.  I was not used to using my voice….and certainly not with her.

    I did use it though.  I said what I needed to say.  I stood my ground.  And began the the journey or my growing into my self.

    As I picture myself in an encounter with her, I forgot to remember, I am no longer the woman/child I was over 8 years ago.  

    Who I am today isn't the small diminitive woman on the first quilts, or the terrified woman standing against her mother, while standing up for herself.

    I wasn't articulate that last meeting. I was on the verge of or in the middle of a break down.  A break down of my old "pleasing self" and the small image I had of me…breaking into my own power.

    I don't believe, I will easily be reduce in size by seeing her now after all the work I have done on me…..but I will instead find my strong inner sense of self.

    I will arrive at the wedding…as I feel in my latest quilts.  Large, bright and filled with great energy….a woman who knows her own strengths!


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    What else I have standing behind me and besides me, is the Health community; from Dial Help, the Houghton County Sheriff, and Copper Country Mental health and a wealth of women who like I, have found our way out of abuse.  

    I am not the woman/child whose self esteem was barely on the scale….

    Today I stand on the other end of abuse!

  • Who they are…

    I was hesitant to do yoga…for I thought I would be overwhelmed with sorrow or sadness, that my disappointment of my family would take over each pose.  But, nothing happened, like that.  I was strong and had balance and flexibility.

    It came to me that the road of Estrangement is not ever going to be easy to navigate, but like a tough yoga pose, if you breathe and focus, you can get through it.

    Estrangement from family who you left due to their behaviors…will not change their behaviors, because you left. 

    In fact, the very nature of my mother is and always has been to disregard what is good for her child…and her grandchildren. That IS why I am estranged from her.

    There is also something about skipping me and her wanting to see her granddaughter, like a skip in a record….she wants to continue to sing her song…going to a believing ear and by passing one who is on to her.

    How like abuse.

    To find an easier target.

    I know, my non-supporters, believe I am adding drama, for it simply is "just a grandma wanting to be at her granddaughter's wedding for pete's sake.  Do you have to drag abuse into every occasion, can't you just let it go and forgive and Move ON!"

    It is 'just a grandma' that I do have issues with…as we all well know.

    She is anything but, "just a grandma".

    Her getting to play the role of "just a grandma" tags her as innocent and those of my father's victims….as guilty.

    Will a Guilty Grandma Arrive?

    Hardly.

    She will come in fully blessed and forgiven and right as rain….with all the grandma rights restored.

    The simple wiping away of her contribution of so many girls being abuse over a period of 40 plus years…leaves the victims standing in a very awkward position…she is right as rain, but we are not.

    The walk of estrangement from her seems odd if she is innocent.  It only works if she is the one who actively created a home where little girls were directed to his lap…the lap of a pedophile.

    Sometimes it does seem like I may be overreacting, that I may be a drama queen…until she reminds me once again why I walked away.

    It also came to me, that the wedding guest list began a long time ago….when I gave my child the right to choose who she would have relationships with.  Allowing her to be with folks I walked away from. Now, both worlds will collide….

    I will have to suck up my awkwardness and dread for the sake of my child.

    What also strikes me…is that the reason I walked away was for the good of my child and now the reason I walk back in is on her wedding day.

    One thing I know for sure, is that the toughest parts on the path of estrangement are the places where you see your true strength and character….and you also get a crystal clear view of who they are. 


     

     

  • I know the difference.

    Ever since I heard my mother is coming, as well more siblings than I had originally thought; I have been in a state of Dread.

    I had to look up Dread, to make sure I have the correct meaning.

    "To anticipate with great apprehension or fear."

    It seems these feelings have the ability to overcrowd the ones of Love and Joy I have for my daughter and her wedding day.  

    Where the past's characters are taking up way too much room…overshadowing any other emotions…unwanted guests in my mind.

    What I can see from so many vantage points is the life of an abused child.

    How, the light-hearted joyful emotions are an easily overrun by fear and dread…

    I can see how normal life events are eclipsed easily and you are not left living in a space of Light…or even this moment of time.

    And, this is just the anticipation of the collision.  Not, even the actual event.

    Again, in a child's life, waiting for the next encounter with their abuser(s)….how it consumes your world.

    What I am watching is my mind playing with scenarios.  Planning exits stragedies, etc..all unknown.

    Yet known.

    My body remembers how it feels in their space.

    It isn't jumping for joy, but bogged down in dread.

    I am being asked to walk among them again…and it feels like a walk back into the known dysfunction.

    I understand enough, that when I am 'asked' or forced by the Universe, when there isn't a choice, it means something for my soul…another growth spurt.

    In this fear and dread is a big peice of my Self.

    By walking forward, I will meet her.

    A long walk back into my estranged family's presence…to embrace another part of me.

    What I know, is that I have to feel this.

    I have to walk forward in order to gain another layer of strength…for IF I can do this, the world opens up a bit wider.

    I will enter into the family spaces a different woman.  I have words that I can articulate and the strength to say them. 

    My resolve to be present and graceful at my daughter's wedding is already being practiced…in how I continue forward with the party prep, knowing the pitfalls it now holds.

    The day will be what I pay attention to.

    Each come with an intention in mind..

    I can't know their reasons or the choices that were made in their worlds…their being there is their business, not mine.  

    What I do know, is that the dread seems less today or perhaps my resistance. I also know, I have traversed many side-roads that were not easy; but were amazing in how I gained wisdom about me and even the other person and/or event.

    What I know for sure, is without my estrangement or walking away from dysfunction, there would not be another side of this wedding; but one.

    There would not be a collision, but a union.

    No contrast.

    No polar opposites to the dread.

    No awareness to the evil that denial breeds.

    No feelings inside of me.

    No complete and utter freedom to know love, peace and joy.

    Because I walked out, there are now two worlds.  Two sides….I see the Light and have experienced the dark.  I know the difference.


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    Me and a Copper Country Mental Health Board Member….at my "Meet the Artis."

     




     


  • A New Play

    I think I thought I had to prepare to be different. Prepare to change. Prepare to move backwards, to undo, un-think, un-act.  Prepare to undo the authenticity, to no longer be the me that I have uncovered in the painful excavating as I delved into the reality of being raised steeped in so many layers of dysfunction….that somehow, I had to prepare to cover all that I had uncovered; about Me.

    That standing in the truth of me; will be unacceptable. 

    And, perhaps those expecting the old covered up and hidden abuse girl, will be disappointed. The pretending and hiding of feelings will not happen.  The old me is dead.

    Her ghost is what perhaps I fear arriving.  For the old me was loved and accepted….the new me was not.

    My words were not believed…

    Oh, they would tell you they believe me, that they THINK, just like me….but, it is the actions that have the last say.  

    They have never not stopped acting like a family.

    A 'loving' family…even against reality.  It is the staged act that fights with my reality.

    What I know is how you are treated IF you don't appear on the Family Stage, if you refuse to utter the scripted lines, if you are unable to hit the correct marks on stage…I then become the 'wrong' one.

    I am the one moving out of sync.

    It feels like a family tsunami is arriving; a full cast of characters in complete family costumes…orchestrated from long long ago, and none of my lines and movements are choreographed in.  I will be the one actor whose lines are from a different play.

    How I move and what I say will not fit into the play of "family".

    That I am the odd character…

    The one who refuses to "get in Line".  

    Like I crashed a Long Running Theatrical play, purposefully to ruin it.

    And, in a way I have. Well I tried at first to use my new Lines….but they were not accepted or heard.  So, I left the stage….walked out of the theater.  And, now the old play is coming to town. The show is back. The stage is heading my way.

    I used to have dreams of trying to get the words out, and I simply could not use my throat and mouth, they seemed frozen….and no matter how hard I tried to speak, nothing left my mouth. My words unspoken.

    I have found the key that unlocked my jaw…but not the one that has opened their ears.  

    So this family play that is coming to town, has ears that only hear family lines…

    And I on the other hand only spew forth words that contradict the image of family.

    They will have a chorus of voices to my one lone voice.

    It will be like spitting into the wind.

    It is also what any child who dares to speak up about a family member who has abused them is up against. 

    It is to stop the play.

    A play that began many generations ago.

    The Family Play.

    I am one of the lucky ones who could read beneath the lines, see behind the scenes and see that the play they all thought they were playing, was really a show of horrors.

    It is Billed and Advertised as a G-Rated show….but in reality it is all X Rated.

    Behind the innocent appearing costumes and lines…is an intricate moving, living, breathing play of abuse.  And, it will continue its long run as long as the family plays along.

    Abuse needs the Family to cover, to play along.

    What an incredible cast of supporting actors…playing their family roles so that abuse is covered up and not seen.  It is like seeing a double feature at one time!

    It almost feels like IF you concentrate hard on family, you will not see the abuse show that is running underneath. 

    In my world there is only one show in town….I refused to act and pretend the family show even exists…for its only purpose is to hide abuse.


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    This is me, at age 9… I believe I pretended to play family after the abuse, but now I can no longer pretend to pretend.  My father introduced me to a new play. 

     

     

     

     



     

  • Back When I was 7

    "You prepared to see you mother at the wedding?" my husband says to me tonight.  "She's not coming," I say….confidently.  He says, "SHE'S coming, so you better be prepared."  

    I am to prepare myself for this?  How exactly am I to do this.  Prepare what?  What things to do I have to ready for this event?

    Is the all knowing, all loving Universe really going to combine these two events; my daughter's wedding day and a unwanted meeting with my mother?

    These two items don't match.

    For one event, I have prepared, I have done the errands, sewn, hot glued, shopped, ordered….been preparing…to set the stage for her wedding vows…a love party.

    The second encounter would have none of that.

    I would have not prepared for the unwanted reunion…nor would it look like a love party.

    Again, how do you prepare for it?

    It angers me even that I HAVE to PREPARE.  Like 'brace yourself'….

    I feel like the second event is to plant a mine field among the honest efforts to ensure a happy day.  It is like a mad demonic comedy…swirled into the wedding flowers.

    Prepare yourself….

    For what?

    For the all the dysfunctional personalities?

    For the 'surprises' that these dysfunctional folk bring?

    How do you prepare?

    It feels like this is asking way too much.

    You know, some say that last night, speaking up in public about sexual abuse and displaying my Therapy Quilts….takes courage and strength etc.

    But to me, that is child's play compared to being in the same space with the woman who can't see me.

    How easy to be with those who can see you.

    How incredibly tough to be put back into her presence…to not be seen.  Or more accurately for my wounds to be ignored….again.

    Rage…rumbles around…like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum….that surely when you didn't have the time or space or effort when I was in the pits of hell….to see me….that you would now want to pop back into my world.

    Why now?

    Why when the drama, trauma, bleeding, pain, tears, terror, anger, rage, injustice, betrayal, feelings of such huge magnitude, that I thought I would literally go insane…you were NOWHERE TO BE FOUND, and now you want to arrogantly strut in?

    Now?

    Really?

    Now you will enter INTO my life?

    Better be prepared, your mother is coming.

    What in the hell do I prepare?

    Welcoming Arms will not be raised.

    Warming feelings will not rise.

    Eager heart not racing to reunite.

    Instead the opposite is within me.

    Arms raised, palms up in a stopping motion….

    I don't have feelings for her….emptiness is there.

    Pulse racing in anxiety…knowing I don't want to be near her.

    Prepare.

    What?

    The juxtaposition that will be inside of one body on that day overwhelms me.

    "It is your daughter's day" echoes from many voices….Prepare yourself.

    I feel like I have to arm myself for war…and dress like the mother of the bride.

    The clashing of these worlds overwhelm me….and leave me weak.

    "Your strong," they say.

    "I am not strong enough"….I sigh.

    "You are the one showing them how it's done…"

    "I don't know how to prepare"…

    Guess I have never been prepared…never given the rule books, the "this is how it is done" section on the mixing of the ghosts of my past with the loves of my present…to take down the barriers and let them all mix AND stay standing in grace.

    How do I prepare….to let all that I have stood against come flowing back into my world?  

    I looked up the word Prepare.

    "To make ready – for use or consideration."

    Guess what it feels like I am suppose to prepare to be a daughter, a sister  Or to use a mother.

    I have no use for a mother like her. 

    And, I feel like they are making me use her.  Making me have a mother.  Making me engage in even a cursory fashion…to 'consider' even the possibility of using a mother.

    I have no use.

    How do you prepare for something you are not going to use?

    It just seems that the Universe is being unusually harsh about this….to reserrect her now on my daughter's wedding day.  

    The joining of two lives in love and the public display of a mother and daughter's shattered relationship…the hollow sound of nothing for almost 9 years…echoing among the sighs of love.

    One whole and one broken.

    Why?

    Why am I to publicly keep walking among the broken pieces. 

    Prepare for love with the wedding and prepare for no love with estrangement.

    How?

    No one tells the mother of the bride "Prepare yourself".

    And yet on my daughter's wedding day…the mother of the bride will do her usual party prep….hair, outfit..and then I will have to steel my insides for the encounter of the accomplice to my childhood abuse.  Really.

    How will that look?  

    How do I sit there smiling in pleasure in a party dress with the steel battle ready insides…ready to face evil?

    You know, that very image is exactly how I had to look back when I was 7.


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  • Beyond Fabric!

    I am not sure what I expected the Meet the Artist event to be like, but it was way cool….very nicely set up, flowers, cake and refreshments….with wonderful people milling about….surrounded by my quilts.  

    Yet it wasn't about me….really or the Art specifically….or the journey of recovery….but about us all.  Each one brought something that made the night perfect.

    I truly do love that many love and get my ladies and the message that seems to pour out of the seams….the way she speaks the language of the viewer…touching cords deep down within.

    I saw old friends and surprise friends….and new ones yet to be.  I felt again the helpful caring nature of those who work for Copper Country Mental Health.  

    I had a wonderful young lady sing me a song.  Yes, that's right…she sang for me.  It was a beautiful song about the Spirit in the Wind…the Spirit in the Earth and the magic, I believe, of the moon….and the Fire Within!  She will be sending me the right words…she said she viewed my ladies by the water….in nature and was inspired to sing to me.  

    I feel that this is a debut for My lady….for there was talk about her going on the road.  And, she travels well….like a carpet roll!  How cool will that be.  To see where she goes and who she meets and the connections she will make….

    Oh, and the local paper was there.  I do believe the reporter was quite taken with My Lady and the way she introduced herself to me….by secretly coming out in my Art. So, he said he was going to submit it to the paper for tomorrow….we will see.

    It seemed the like the right and perfect place for her to be….gracing the walls of the place where so many go to seek the answers…and to even inspire those who are working with folks like me.

    We all were in awe….My Lady and I….a journey that will go beyond fabric!


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    Again, thanks to Joe, Shelly and the rest of the staff…for making the perfect "Meet the Artist" event and for the wonderful folk who came to meet My Lady and I…..

  • The Woman Who Sewed.

    "The conflict between what one is and who one is expected to be touches all of us. And sometimes, rather than reach for what one could be, we choose the comfort of the failed role, preferring to be the victim of circumstance, the person who didn't have a chance."  Merle Shain

    I have learned in the past 8, almost 9 years, that I can no longer live my life as others expect, but have no choice anymore but to live as I am.

     I can't pretend to pretend, that I will even endeavor to be what you expect me to be….what you would prefer me to be…I will never even try to please you, before I please me.  Not ever.

    I use to live in the comfort of the failed role that was not me…and so many were at peace…while I lived a life of quiet resentment.  

    I resented you for expecting anything from me.

    I put the rage/anger/resentment on you.

    When, the truth was, I didn't know who I was or how to be me AND do this without failing your expectations of Me.

    It was the most exhilarating and completely terrifying journey….to disappoint you and please me.  I lost all who expected a different me…and, there are some who still mourn for the old me.  She is dead…

    Who stands in her place is me…the me I recovered or uncovered. The me who is completely known to me…but may be unfamiliar to you.

    Imagine, I lived for 46 years as someone who failed at being herself.

    I lived for your peace.

    I lived for your love.

    I lived for your joy.

    I was going to write, I didn't know what brought me peace, love and joy…..and perhaps I didn't.  But, I did know, that IF I began to question or stop serving others, there would be moments of discomfort…

    I guess I did know, deep down what I truly wanted…but was too afraid to do it.  To just say what I needed to say and do what I needed to do…for I knew that so many relationships were based up the expectations of others…and had very little to do about individual needs.

    I am sure the crux of dysfunctional families is that we all live to serve the parents. No matter who they are and what they've done. We are taught to live under their expectations.

    Daring to live, thrive and flourish outside of what they had expected is so freeing and can often seem like rebellion…

    When all it is is to be living the role of Me.

    It will be Me who walks among my Art Therapy….quilts.  The ones who represent how the world was so large and me so small, the inner self esteem almost non-existent.  

    It is a surreal moment to be the Lady….speaking of the "Lady"….knowing it is Me and Me.  

    As I pondered the "Meet the Artist"….I see it as meeting the Divine or the Universe or something other than me. For often I was unaware I what I was creating as I was creating it.

    It is like I too want to meet the artist to see the source of these quilts…

    I will go tonight, feeling less like an artist, but more like a Fan…knowing this is not of my doing…but that I am the woman who sewed.


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    "Lady" quilts on display at Copper Country Mental Health – Houghton, MI

     

  • The Imperfect Artist!

    When I was asked to do a "Meet the Artist" at Copper Country Mental Health, I eagerly said yes…and then I thought….great, I get my Haircut the same week, a few days before….a fresh haircut always makes any outfit look better.  And, I even have an outfit….all set, Oh and even had my eyebrows done….I was way ahead, prepared and in good shape, until my tooth broke.  Yep, I will do the artist meet and greet minus a tooth.  I laughed out loud.

    It isn't in the front, but on the side in the lower left of my mouth, but it will be easily seen when I am talking….or so I believe.

    What I am accepting is that each time I aspire to reach this pulled together look, the Universe arranges me to be imperfectly imperfect.  With no effort at all, I left standing a bit disheveled….although, hey, I will have awesome hair and nice eyebrows and a new outfit!

    Knowing that I have this 'defect' in my mouth will be something that will bring a smile as I move around.  I just love how I no longer have to reach for this un-reachable place of being fully put together….now, like dinging a new car, I can relax and just be….the damage is done, no more perfection to maintain or worry about.

    So yes, come and meet the Imperfect Artist!

    (Copper Country Mental Health….across from Econo Foods in Houghton…from 4 to 6pm!)

  • Who Believes in Me.

    The kick I had in my gut, I at first named it fear….and then, I thought maybe it was guilt…but today, after letting this sensation ride along for a few days, it felt more right calling it the feelings of Not Being Believed.

    To have oodles of writings, musings and prose excavated from my soul, only to have it doubted or disregarded…to be challenged or simply not believed.

    I more than likely will not have face to face confrontations, but rather be silently ignored.

    The fear of not being believed feels right to me, that my outspokenness will not be heard.  That life will continue on and my voice muted…echoes of my childhood.

    Will my ladies bring enough attention?  Is it hard to disregard when Art is carrying my words?  

    While the general public and perhaps other victims gaze upon my Art, I wonder what the Believers (FALC Members and other similar churches)will see?  Will siblings wander by…and glance?  What will they see?  

    The Story Line quilts and the Lady quilts for that matter, are the essence of me…the vessel that allowed me to express myself, they were the catalyst that allowed me to see inside of me.

    When there is doubt and disbelief, it is to not see me…again.


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    And maybe, the most important person this Art was meant to reach, was me!

    Guess it doesn't matter who believes, hears or sees….for I am the most important one who believes in me.

  • A Reflection of Me.

    A few years back, Susan Boyle made a splash in the world, when she began to sing; such an unlikely sound coming from this average looking woman…as my quilts are hung in public, it feels like the complete opposite of Susan Boyle….I am an average looking woman, and coming from me…is the articulation of what, for generations, has been kept in the dark.  The family secrets.

    It is one thing to sorta know what lives in the darkness, and quite another to have access to the inner workings of an adult child, working her way through sexual abuse….into recovery. The feelings and actual movement or dance of being estranged from a family of 14.  

    I feel like I am about to sing in public, and the words will be awful…that instead of applause, I will get booed off the stage.  

    I never wrote or quilted for an audience.  I did it to fight my way into peace, love and joy.  And, in order to find this love, joy and peace, I had to walk away from abusive relationships or ones that were no longer working with my authentic stride to wellness.

    And, I believe in me and my Lady quilts and my journey.  What I have not had was public scrutiny and I feel vulnerable and open and exposed.

    That being said.  I am very proud that my Ladies are out and standing proud….a reflection of Me.