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.

  • Failed to Register…

    "A man set to stand trial for molesting an underage girl was sentenced to nine months in jail for failing to register as a sexual offender after an earlier offense."  

    Now let's see. This 27 year old man is awaiting a new trial…but he is in jail because he failed to 'register as a sex offender'.  Perhaps our court system needs to be in jail too, for not putting this man away the first time.  How many chances do you get in our legal system before they get the message.  "SEX OFFENDER".

    Who is failing to register that he is a sexual predator?

    He knows it.

    His victims know it.

    The family of the victim more than likely knows it, Unless he is family, than the jury is still out….they too may not have registered his sex offending ways.

    Who doesn't know this man is a sex offender?

    And yet, we will have a long expensive court case to see if he is guilty or not… 

    Really?

    To me, he is not the only one who failed to register….

    (article on the front page of the Daily Mining Gazette – Houghton Michigan)

  • Love is in the Details….

    "Work is Love made visible" Kahlil Gibran

    Two of my daughters and I put on a Bridal Shower for my daughter who is getting married in three weeks…and the attention to detail was mind blowing, fun and involved, time, care and work.

    As the time drew nearer to starting the shower, we had almost pulled off all our ideas, in creating a wonderful outdoor lady party…and it came to me "Love is in the details".  Love is what we were making visible or tangible.  

    I grew up in a culture or environment, where details and fluff (extras) were not necessary and were skipped.  We just did what was needed and rarely went above board.  I am certain money had a lot to do with it and the sheer number of children to care for, but I hadn't realized until we (the girls pulled together the creative ideas) were putting it all together that this is what love does.

    It is the extra attention, the getting the right feel, the perfect color, just the right jar or container, it all mattered.  It mattered, because the daughter and sister it was to honor, mattered more!


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    Each piece we picked out reflected my daughter and our love for her.  

    What was also fun to put it all together, to plan and figure out the details….okay, the third triangle banner was a bit much, but I LOVED how they looked!   We all pitched in and created a shower to remember….and visible love!


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    Fresh flowers….lovingly put in mason jars…..


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    Table set for special ladies….


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    and my most special ladies….


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    A great place for a shower.  When, my girls were little, this was their place to play house, to dress up, and hang clothes in the trees.  I tried talking them into a dress-up shower, where we would all dress up in large hats and long dresses…..but, they were not sold.

    And, the fabric in the banners were material with special meanings….or at least some.  Dogs to represent my daughters furry children, a piece from my favorite Aunts stash, who passed away and passed on her love for quilting to me, a piece from Finland from a special friend, my hand-dyed, and lots of left overs from many Lady quilts….together their colors and stories created a wonderful decoration…giving love to the shower.

    I want to thank my daughters for giving me the lesson…..that love is in the details!


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  • Joining the Team

    We have all heard the term "Co-dependent", but I just read "Co-Alcoholic" as a woman described herself being married to an alcoholic.

    It somehow puts the other person into the disease much clearer than co-dependent. It shows you being part of the problem more clearly than being dependent upon each other.

    I then, of course, looked at other behaviors that we would be Co-Members in….such as Co-drug addict, Co-pedophile, etc.  This to me, joins the so called 'innocent' into the negative energy field as aiding and abetting the addicted individual in a way that isn't just co-dependent, but an active participant in their addiction…enabler.

    I had previously seen the co-conspirator, as in denial, but being a co-pedophile, you are doing things to make his addiction continue.  It isn't about denial, it is about allowing and giving ease for him/her to continue this life style.

    I believe, if we started defining the non-addictive spouse this way, it may open their eyes to just who they are and what they are doing to actively support a negative lifestyle.

    I know that I have seen/felt and believed that my mother was not an innocent party, and defining her as a co-pedophile would be much more accurate than any other word I had.  Where she actively participated to ensure he had his drug of choice and to live his lifestly of choice, he indeed needed a good co-pedophile.

    I also enabled him, by denying my own feelings and body.  When I was able to be with my body and speak out about my feelings and truth of my fear of him,  I stopped being a co-pedophile.

    Defining those who are willingly, even resentfully, taking care of the addict, in this way, will help not define the addict and blame them….but to see clearly the side of the non-addict…the Co-addict.

    It is my belief, that a huge part of the problem is the lack of holding accountable all the co-alcoholics, co-heroin addicts, co-meth addicts, co-child abusers, etc…that if we start focusing on what enables these folks to continue, we will find that the problem doesn't begin and end with one person.

    I had to go and look up "Co".

    It says, "Jointly, mutually, common…"

    Jointly….means, "with another person, together.

    So, there you have it.

    When you are a Co, you are joining the team.


  • Recovery of being you, Perfectly.

    When Normal seems Perfect and all others are considered 'mental' and imperfect, there becomes a need to hide that which isn't perfect.

    We have somehow believed incorrectly, that the majority among us are living perfect lives and it is complete and utter failure to admit your life isn't going okay, that inside of you it isn't the peaceful pasture of perfection.

    In order to lose the stigma of entering a facility for help with our lives and relationships and most importantly to find peace with your self and your life, we need to recognize there is NO Perfect.  Oh, and There is NO normal.…and only those who believe it to be so, are even more confused than the most confused among us.

    I even wonder, is it harder to maintain the image of normal and perfect, than it is to bear the discomfort of failing to get there?

    What if, we all were to embrace that each of us is our own kind of perfect normal, coming from whence we came?

    I will fail at being perfect each time I seek to have a childhood untouched by abuse.

    I will succeed at perfection for me, when I embrace my whole past.

    My perfect me, was abused and raised in a cult like religion. I made choices based upon those two very distinctive events.  These two ingredients in my life created a perfect representation of the two.  I was perfectly abused and a perfect woman whose mind was brain washed by a fanatical religion.

    Maybe we think perfect only in the good terms and not perfect at being dysfunctional.

    If we looked upon the recovery places as places to restore our own sense of perfection, they would not have such a negative connotation. Instead we see them as places that will shine a light of imperfection upon us.  That only those of great imperfections will enter there…will fit in.  And, perfection passes these places by.

    Perfection is a myth in the sense that we will all match and look the same and do the same and fall into a category of normal.

    What if instead we embraced the individual.  That the healthiest among us are the most authentic and original.

    What if the "mental health" places were places to go for becoming original….to break out of the crowd mentality, to separate and individualize you from the masses, to perfect a complete and perfect you?

    While September is Recovery month, is recovery to recover YOU?

    Okay, I had to look up recovery's definition.

    "a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength."

    "the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost."

    So the 'shame' or stigma is that we don't want to admit we have lost our self…our strength or the control of our lives.  And yet we will each see many folks living lives out of control, while trying to convince themselves and others they are in perfect control.

    Recovery to me, is to regain the power of self….individuality and authenticity, the recovery of being you, Perfectly.  


  • On the Road to Recovery

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    My second visit to Copper Country Mental Health was carrying a carpet roll of 26 Art Quilts…or Art Therapy quilts to be more exact.  My Lady is being showcased for Recovery Month at this healing space.

    Shelly and Joe were terrific in orchestrating where the quilts were to be hung.  It was decided to not put them in numerical order, but to have them be placed randomly and for it to be a surprise as to what each mean and their order.  I liked this idea.

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    Rick was our measuring man, keeping things in balance and so easy to work with…Everyone who happened by had comments and interest.  I love that my lady was catching attention…


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    A good team, fun quilts and wonderful wall space…and it is my hope they will inspire and lend courage to those who are healthy enough to realize the help that can be gotten here.


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    My lady engaging the sitting area with their color and content…part of the recovery conversation.



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    This is space is as you enter into the building.  I think the quilts do a wonderful job welcoming all!

    It is my hope they bring a softer tone to a place often filled with stigma and shame…at least for those of us who are in need of their services. 

    And, you have to wonder how we, society as a rule, have it so wrong…that it is shameful to admit we need help, that we are not able to handle our lives and our truths.

    My Lady is bringing the public eye to a space that is typically protected and private, and feels even that I am hanging quilts in spaces often kept in the dark…bringing artful color and loud boldness to clinical hushed tones.

    There is even a small fear that the 'public' will mix with the 'private' and that it will cause 'discomfort' and, for us not to advertise or to open up general traffic, so that the privacy can be maintained…

    Meaning, to offer this display to the public, will draw to much of the general public to this space…a space where folks like to keep their mental illness private.

    However, it is my humble opinion, that most of the public is/was or will be in need of these services…if not now, then at some point in their future.  Mental Health is for all, not just the most wounded among us.

    I would love for My Lady and I, to begin the process of normalizing the look of those in need of Mental Health.  To stop the judgement against those who are willing and able to admit, their lives and their minds are in need of a second opinion.  

    I even believe, that my quilts, if allowed to be advertised in a public way, would bring folks into offices in which people are too scared to enter….to admit, that they could use an ear to listen or help with locating helpful services that will restore balance.

    Perhaps we could all start entering this space as we do a dentist.  We don't let our teeth go untreated, due to the fear of being recognized that we have neglected our mouths, and yet our minds somehow have been tagged with a negative connotation.

    And really, who among us can state that they have always had a clear mind, that they have never had troubles with their lives, their choices, and their truths, that their history has been a clean slate of pure brilliance and perfection?

    I truly believe that we all could use extra help. That if we paid attention to our mental health, our emotional and physical would take care of itself.  

    So….that being said, I highly suggest we all take a stroll through Copper Country Mental Health and begin to neutralize the stigma of Mental Health.

    And, you know what came to me….that when you can recognize and own that your mental health isn't quite right, you are on the road to recovery.

    (Perhaps there should be a sign only the Perfect need not enter. We somehow believe that it is failing to be imperfect. And, as you know, It is impossible to be imperfect….for even the word says, I'm Perfect!)



  • Toys and Candy

    In the jeep today, I listened to Nujood Ali's story, "I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced."  What a remarkable girl.  

    She is the first one to break down the door; showing a different way.  

    She is trying to get the laws of Yemen changed…for it to be illegal to marry before 18.  At the time of the book, the law hadn't been embraced by the leader of her country….

    What you hear is a little girl caught up in a grown-up world far beyond her years of comprehension and without family who dared or moved to help her.  In fact, it was her father who married her to an older man….and she but 9 or 10. (She doesn't have papers to know her real age or birthday.)

    After she was granted a divorce, two other little girls, ages 9 and 10 also got divorces.

    Imagine???

    She often drew a house with beautiful windows. When asked about the home she dreamed of….It was a home for girls like her.  A place for them to go to escape family.  A House of Joy!

    It goes to show what great change one person can achieve, if they dare to buck the system.  

    In 2008, she was only 10 years old….today she is near 18.  Her goal was to become a lawyer to help other little girls like herself and to Never Get Married, ever!

    I wonder where she is today and what turns and roads her life has taken.  

    I almost, ALMOST, respect these men who openly marry to perform sexual abuse, for they are doing it in plain view.  I said, "almost".  And how tragic that the grown women in her life, did nothing to help her, but to say, "This is what the life of women is in Yemen, for generations…to suffer in silence for the sake of family honor."

    She didn't even know what "Honor" meant.  Or, how her suffering would be good for her father and her family name.

    I got that.  

    How the family honor is upheld as long as we suffer in silence.

    Nevermind, that the honor wasn't there to begin with.

    All it takes for changes to happen, is for someone to dare to be different! 

    Go Nujood!  I hope you are following you life intentions….and that you will be a lawyer and have a house of Joy, for the little girls who have lost their childhood.

    When she was divorced, she wanted toys and candy.


     

  • Protecting my truths.

    In an online group, we were having a conversation about journaling, and one women said, her journal is on her computer and password protected, and it struck me as it was her true self that she didn't want known.  Or, at least that is what my journals are filled with, bits and pieces and scattered and jumbled up thoughts, about me, my feelings and need to express.

    How it hit me, that when we feel this desperate need to hide our selves…it (the things we don't want known) then has power and becomes a shield or wall in front of us.  The words we write but don't dare have anyone know.

    I wonder too, how adults still live in this spot.  Or perhaps how they live in front of this secret spot, not wanting or able to live from the spot itself.

    I have a real hard time now, recollecting how I too used to live without ever touching, looking or even considering, my secret spot; my truth.

    And, how I would often catch glimpses of wishes…of telling someone the truth, but instead politely smile and go along.  Or grit my teeth, and try to stem the flow of rage. Or do it, get it over with, and then return to my peace…like doling out parcels of my life, and saving small bits for me.  

    I didn't even write a journal until I was 46 years old.

    In "Simple Abundance" Sarah Ban Breathnach writes, "But in order to be true to a creative work, the artist must journey to the center of self.  Past the conscious sentries in the brain, beyond the barbed wire barricades of the heart, into the trenches of "truth or dare." You can't write a true sentence or live authentically if you don't trust yourself. You can trust yourself without courage."

    What I know now, 8 years later, is that I was unable, unwilling and not even aware or conscious, that the life I was living was out in front of my secret spot.  And, once my secret spot was exposed, (I was sexual abused by my father) I had to write in order to find out who I was.

    Journal writing was self exploration, it was excavating of my soul.  And, I guess once it made the local news and papers, the need to hide was null and void.

    But, what I know for certain, the need to hide and be secret, is the very thing that is stopping you from living a soul full life of freedom and living in love, peace and joy!

    I am so grateful that I am able to live from my inner spot…and have not from the outer layer, in front of the barrier that is protecting my truths.

    "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader." Rober Frost.

  • Nothing to Forgive.

    I know that churches are built upon the premise of "Forgiveness" of restoring life back to where it was, 'before the sin', to keep things looking beautiful, normal and loving.  And yet, I know that this tool is only beneficial to the perpetrator of sin and is very hurtful for the victim.

    Even the sentiment and feelings that the victim should be reaching for the forgiveness application, is wrong.  

    Why is it my job to restore Her kindness?  And furthermore, is it even possible?

    Was I the one who changed her from being kind to not being kind?

    I used to believe that my behavior (usually negative) was the fault of my kids.  If only they acted better, did this or that, without my having to tell them etc, then I would not go off the deep end in rage….I too used to put my kindness or the lack thereof, in their hands.

    When you ask a child to forgive their parents For Their Negative Behavior, you are blaming the child for that negative.

    I can see it no other way.

    I am the problem.  I was the one who made her act poorly and I am the one who can give her back her good graces, IF ONLY I would 'forgive' her.

    The Forgiveness that I was asked to use, was to let bygones be bygones…to settle my mother back into her mother role.  Like I am the one who has the power for her to be motherly or not motherly, depending again upon MY behavior NOT hers.

    There is a new definition of forgiveness that I cling to…and that is accepting that the past could be no different.   Accepting that I did not have a loving mother.  Accepting that she was unable to put up boundaries to keep hurtful people away from her and her children.  Accepting her as she is and not believing that I have the power to make her kind or to make her act unkind.  

    I forgive her, by accepting that she fell far below the level of mother. I forgive her for NOT being a mom.  

    She had once wrote to me, that "I failed as a mother, but can we be friends?"

    Like it would be easy to skip the mothering part and go right to friends.  Really, as I am your daughter.  I am not looking for a friend, I am looking for a mother.  

    A mother's job doesn't end.  It doesn't go away when the children are over 18, it is a life long role in the lives of your children.  You don't get to give up and still maintain a relationship….or at least a relationship of any value.

    So again….how do you forgive a woman who failed as a mother, but wants to still hang around, if you are her daughter?

    And, you know, it isn't that she failed as a mother that is so hurtful, but that she failed to see her child, you.  Your needs, your pain, your suffering….she just flippantly, shrugs off her mother cape and wants to don the friendly cloak.

    I simply can't do it.

    I was like the seagull with the broken wing, looking for a mother…someone to care and see my wound…and protect me from predators.

    And instead she catered to his (predator) needs…allowing him access to girls so he could break their wings. The broken wing girl's needs were not seen or met or considered.  

    And somehow there are folks who believe it is up to me, to change my mother back to kindness. Can I?  Will forgiving her in the churches definition work?  Will it make her see my broken wing?  Really?  Or are you asking me to NOT see my broken wing?

    For no matter how many words of 'forgiveness' are uttered, my broken wing remains.

    And, what is truly broken is what my parents did to my love, my trust, and my faith IN Them.  I handed it over as a believe-a-head, an innocent, without much thought or restraint.  I gave it to them and they broke it.  They didn't respect it or honor it.

    I see them as love breakers.

    I see them as trust wreckers.

    What I guess many can't know, until it happens to them, what it feels like to have these thing shattered. To give out love, to have it trashed.

    Is it me?

    Was I wrong to give it to them?

    Or, is the fault completely theirs?

    What I would caution everyone, is before you ask a child to forgive, you look at the adult, the perpetor.  What do they do with love?

    My love wasn't bad….it wasn't less worthy.  I just had given it to the wrong folks…or perhaps they were only doing to my love, that which was done to their love.

    Here is what I know….children's love is innocent.  It has nothing to forgive.

     

     

  • I Feel Kind.

    It is a simple question, delivered with grand intentions, that is felt deeply negative by me. "Will you ever forgive your mother?" 

    This was asked of me.  

    Held at my like a gun.

    That it is MY fault she is unwelcome at my daughter's wedding, taking no glances at her ledger of un-mother-like behavior, but that I as a daughter am under scrutiny.

    That my core level of kindness has to be bankrupt, that I am empty, hollow and cold.

    My behavior and actions as a daughter are closely looked at, while my mother's behavior isn't spared a second glance or even a first.  But rather her 'feelings' about being shunned come clearly into view, and the blame sits squarely upon me.  Like I am magically inventing this unforgiving 'attitude'.

    Where did I get this demeanor?

    How is that I can be so cold?

    What happened to me?

    What this 'innocent' asking person pleads for, is for me to back down and make small or minimize actions that stripped my mother from being a mom.

    What struck me today, was that the grief and trauma we experience, isn't about the pain, sex and indifference, but the disappearing loving being.  We mourn the loss of kindness.

    And now, they are ASKING me to be kind, and never once questioning my mother's behavior.

    As I turned the corner at the bottom of my driveway this morning a seagull sat in the middle of the road.  Just sat there.  Weird I thought.  What is up little fellow, I asked.

    As I got closer, I could see he had one very damaged wing; he could not fly.  He was stuck unable to save himself…and I was not daring enough to try.

    I called our local "Wild Life Rescue" girl….and she called me later to tell me she did pick him up. He had a very bad wing. She wasn't sure she could save him, but she would at least allow him to die in peace and not be at the mercy of a predator.

    I got the Seagull.

    I also got how it was that my mother looked the other way, while I called for help.

    I feel kind.

     

  • I am on the Team!

    As we work on the details for my Story Line Quilts at Copper Country Mental Health, a contact introduced himself to me as a team member of Trauma Informed Recovery Team.  I had to look up the word trauma.

    "Trauma".

    A deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

    Emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may be associated with physical shock.  

    A serious injury or shock to the body, as from violence or an accident. An emotional wound.

    What is more amazing than the definition is that I had to ask.  Like, how in the world having been traumatized, did I not know its content.  

    We use words, and words often hide the actual facts.  "Trauma" encapsulates the actual event like a shroud, hiding the literal activities and content.

    To say Trauma instead of describing the actual events, allows us to not feel, know and react or respond viserally.  It almost seems that words allow for more denial or denial period.

    And, maybe the "Trauma Informed Recovery Team" clearly understands the contents of trauma and we the traumatized are slowly awakened to them.

    Imagine, it takes a team to help us recover…to sort through the trauma and to find a way to live in peace, love and joy after it.

    I am very grateful that there is a team for trauma, a recovery team!

    The trauma in my life was to experience sexual abuse from a father.  It had both emotional shock as well as physical injury from violence.  Trauma sure seems like a nicer word, that rape by a dad. 

    I am looking forward to see what else I learn as I hang My Story Line Quilts at Copper Country Mental Health. What services and teams are waiting there to help in my recovery.  

    I am hopeful that my quilts will bring awareness to teams waiting to help those of us who sadly know the after affects of trauma…to recover and restore our center, our balance, our confidence, our self esteem….our self.

    I know, that what was clearly shattered and destroyed was my sense of safety, of having some who loved and cared for me, my faith and trust….this is what gets shot to hell, when the ones you love….sexually abuse or are incapable of responding…like my mother.  I lost my parents and that was traumatic.

    It isn't the act of sexual abuse or the indifference after, it is finding out there is no one there to protect you.  That the world of safety and love is no more.

    Trauma is breaking the innocent world by those you loved and trusted.

    When kindness and love are replaced with rape and indifference…that is traumatic, for they are polar opposites.  To recover from that, often times means getting away from those hurtful people….which often leaves us estranged from family.

    I would love to be part of the Trauma Informed Recovery Team.  And, if my quilts help someone, give hope, lend inspiration….I am on the team!