I M Perfect lady

Tag: abuse

  • Self Love

    If you held a woman’s vagina sacred, if you held a woman sacred, you couldn’t murder her or rape her or mutilate her or hurt her. Eve Ensler

    I just listened to the Vagina Monologues.

    What an incredible and insightful look at the one body part that has been used and abused to take our spirits and how sad most often it occurs in young childhood, before we even know it intimately ourselves.

    The heart of a woman, the place where we can experience and express the wild nature of women, is captured and raped before we even connect, stolen before we find our own worth.

    Eve Ensler opens the dialogue in how detached and unowning we are to our own body parts after they are misused.

    We walk away from the wound too.

    We treat ourselves as others treated us, without care or feeling, we turn ourselves off.

    In one part she mentions a group of young girls who just returned from Rape Camp and how they lined up with their mothers to have a picture taken, and not one of the girls looked at the camera, all heads down in shame.

    Looking down in shame for being raped.

    It is how they see themselves now, through the eyes of their abused vagina.

    Their sense of being a woman has completely changed by the treatment their vaginas received.

    The treatment they received is now the ruler of self worth.

    What a journey into regaining your power back, to hold yourself worthy, to find the specialness, to feel again after the most sensitive and sensual part has been brutally treated.

    By looking at abuse from the body part which abuse occurred is to see the difference between a sacred and loved vagina to one who has been ravaged by abuse.

    Again, the saddest part to me is that very young girls are being abused before they even know what it is, how it works, that it is sacred, that it is an expression of love, a tool for pleasure not pain, and they are driven away from the most intimate part of themselves.

    This disconnect creates frozen or careless owners, where they are ‘ice maidens’ or floozies. The swing from one pole to the next shows how out of control of their bodies they are.

    Learning to love and hold sacred our own bodies is a huge part of the healing process, to reclaim them from the abusers, redefining them once again, returning them back to their innocence.

    Because it is such an intimate part of ourselves, when abused, we lose our sense of intimacy, a personal loving relationship with self.

    This loss of self intimacy is our greatest loss…we lose reverence and sacredness of self, we lose our own self love.

  • Mother for them.

    I want to say “Happy Mother’s Day” to all the mothers out there who stood up and did what was hard to do.

    Who had a voice that spoke out when their hearts were breaking, who walked away from their home and family to end abuse.

    Who were willing to leave all they have ever known to change the course of abuse in their children’s lives.

    Mothers who walk with shaky legs and confusion, but walk anyway, the ones who can see the hurt child…and then nothing in life matters more, they walk against many who demand their silence.

    The mothers who will give up her dreams for the safety of her children deserve all the accolades of this day.

    The mother who is in fear, but walks anyway, who leaps into the unknown to save her child, I cheer you on.

    These are mothers of true courage and strength and willingly walk face to face with life’s greatest fears to save a child, theirs and others. They do not sit silently and watch and not get involved, they leap when others sulk back.

    They are the heroes who this day belongs to.

    Mothers, who mother in love, walk fearlessly against evil, and are a strong secure place to be held. Who you can trust and who will lead you to your highest good.

    My Happy Mother’s Day wishes and good energy go to you.

    May you stand tall when the world is falling, when your voice is the lone one in the sea of silence, may you find your courage within you, and know that the Universe walks with you always.

    Feel inside and you will feel the strength of all the mothers who sat in fear, they are cheering for you to show them the way.

    Even mothers need heros, you are a mother for them.

  • Warn the Authorities.

    I had a multifaceted dream just before waking this morning, confusing about places, time lines and doings, but yet totally clear with overall theme.

    I was at a high school reunion that was taking place at my childhood home and I left early, just walked out. In my car as I was leaving I seen my old neighbor running through his house with little boys chasing him. The next time he passed in front of the big bay window, he is wearing underwear, boys still laughing and chasing him. He then heads for the upstairs, stops midway and I see his underwear have fallen and his butt is showing. He stops on the step and turns…it is like he wants me to see him…doesn’t move for a second or two and then ascends the stairs…little boys following.

    I even notice that the stairway has been moved, for in the old floor plan, I would not have seen him taking the game to the upstairs bedrooms, out of sight.

    In the dream I call my brother to tell him…and then the next thing I am in a grocery story and see another old neighbor boy who is now an older man with a gray haired ponytail, and he is carrying a little boy who wants to get down…he lets him go. He and the boy are fully dressed and appear normal.

    I am buying a drink for my son who is in the hospital for a surgery and have witnessed in the dream my husbands loving teasing ways with him.

    This underwear game man juxtaposes the normal or regular men to boy scenes. The cat in the matrix, that something isn’t right, showing me the differences…and how I didn’t run over and wrestle with the man who was in the midst of a pedophile game.

    Yesterday Oprah asks her audience after listening to the Freedom Riders, what do you know that is wrong and what are you doing about it?

    What do you know or sense or feel isn’t right and what are you doing about it…?

    Leads me to sit with my life and ask what do I know that is wrong and is there something I should be doing about it?

    It just occurred to me in the past few days, that I don’t recall others talking about pedophiles to me. Of me being aware of knowing about other families. I just have no memory of them warning me of creepy men…and then I had a flash of knowing, it was me they were talking about. I lived in the creepy home. I was in the subject of what others were talking about, they didn’t tell me, for I was already there.

    This was shocking to know. No one brought the discussion about pedophiles and creepy men up to me, for my father was a known one.

    I find it fascinating and sickening to know that many knew and only warned others to stay away.

    In order for this disease to stop spreading, the ‘early warning’ system has to be ended, we have to learn how to step in, speak up, tell the authorities…do something.

    Even if you have known for years, now is a good time to do something different.

    I was taught to not speak ill of others, to not point out their negative behaviors, ‘for we all have faults’…silence was my first response.

    And I know I am not alone, there are pews full of well-intentioned good people, silently sitting by warning others to stay away, but not wanting to use their voice in a ‘negative’ way, to use it to tell someone suspicions of a child being abused.

    All it takes is for someone to alert the authorities and they will ask the child.

    It takes someone from the outside in the land of normal to come in and rescue those who were born in captivity.

    We know no different, we need you to speak up on our behalf.

    I have heard a few stories in the past six years, but I too didn’t move on it, didn’t speak up, for I who they spoke of I didn’t know, didn’t know their children or who they had access too. But what I also didn’t do is tell the person who told me, to not warn me, but warn the authorities.

    “What do you know that is wrong in the world and what are you doing about it…” Oprah Winfrey

  • Supporting Me.

    Listening to Eve Ensler on the Ted Conference about Security was amazing. I know she is right, that those of us who lost our security are the ones who will actually take the steps to make a difference.

    With nothing left to lose, we lose nothing.

    We can speak up and speak against what we suffered, our strength and courage comes from all that we lost and have experienced.

    We become strong when we can speak up as to spare another.

    My voice isn’t always accepted, my truths are not easy to hear, yet who better to listen to than one who has already been there?

    Inner security knows you can survive for you have.

    I am secure in knowing there is no security.

    It can’t be bought or orchestrated, life happens.

    Like Byron Katie, I am comfortable now in the don’t know life, where before I had rigid boundaries of knowing and in the end all the knowing I knew were proven wrong.

    Now I have security in the Universal power supporting me.

  • Unravel

    In the past few months my teeth have been falling apart, broken teeth, fillings falling out and just this past Monday a root canal, all signs that my eating machine was breaking down.

    At one point I had 6 teeth with issues, both sides of my mouth and top and bottom, which created new challenges in eating, I could no longer just eat, I had to be aware of what and how.

    How interesting that I became aware of this Pac Man like eating machine only when it broke.

    And it took 7 broken teeth to get my attention and one root canal, but I am seeing it now. It slowed me down the only way it could by busting the Pac Man…the eating machine.

    When the eating machine was broken I saw my eating in slow motion.

    The frenzy pace was brought into focus…I became aware of how much I was unaware.

    How incredible is it that the Pac Man is the control center of eating instead of it being a team of mind, body and soul…this cavity of teeth and tongue is the ruler and the rest of me a victim of its poorly developed palate?

    Changing the palate to fit the fitness of my body is my latest adventure, to begin eating from the body and using the teeth instead of the teeth using me.

    I am sure in an uncontrollable environment, we control what we can, and eating uncontrollably gave us control, as well as the feeling of being satisfied in an unsatisfied world.

    What also linger at the fringes of my out of control eating are recollections of me being out alone with my father. I don’t recall anything but us eating alone. I was young, I was special I was out on a date. Yet, knowing he is a pedophile, this isn’t a nice scene…however the food was normal or more normal than what happened before or after…was I bought by a malt, was that my price? Did my life become normal again with food? It is funny how I can’t recall the abuse, but I can recall the food and can picture the restaurants and booths and even the swirling stools…

    Each part of my world is complicated with abuse.

    How I used food to normalize or control myself is the mystery I will unravel.

  • Familiar isn’t Good.

    “Our own physical body possesses a wisdom which we who inhabit the body lack. We give it orders which make no sense.” ~Henry Miller

    I seem to have an eating person and then a person who sees the affects, but the two haven’t met.

    My eating person calls foods delicious and has cravings for sweets and she lives above my neck. She enjoys the tastes and eats as if the food will fall on the ground after she chews, paying no attention to the body underneath.

    My eating is similar to smoking without inhaling, or so my mind has me believing, but the mirror tells a different tale.

    What is so odd is the body that needs better eating is not in control of the eating and the eating mouth cares less about what happens after it tastes, chews and swallows.

    While some diets look at the food and other people are telling the person to exercise, what I am thinking needs to be changed is the mind.

    It is the town crier calling scrumptious bakery delicious, but who is it delicious for, A thought in the head?

    My thoughts about food and what is the reality of food is a world apart, not even in the same room.

    My awareness is never in both places at the same time, yet my head is attached to my body. My body is not welcome in the boardroom when decisions about it are made.

    It shocking to know that my head lies or fails to acknowledge how the words and food don’t match, that there is a huge contradiction going on.

    Yet my head is the first to complain as I stand in front of the mirror, Like it had nothing to do with the weight upon my thighs!

    It is insane, the one that is craving and eating is now berating or feeling disappointed in the body…when the body is simply a dumping ground or garbage bag for the head.

    I am right in the middle of calling its bluff, and trying to stop reacting to eating choices and instead bring the body to the table and eat for it and not for my head.

    It is a fickle head…for it slurps up food, burps and then turns on its self when it sees the affects, like the traitor it is.

    This lying eating head is the same head that wanted me to stay in bed and not do yoga; it is a part of myself that sucks the living out of me.

    Within my food palate are vestiges of dysfunction, camouflaged in pretty cakes and candy, the pretty sounding names and tastes I have become accustomed to, my way with food.

    My immature food palate will take time to adjust to eating food that the body can use for energy and nutrients instead of pleasing a childish mind set.

    I am finding it odd that I have a iron grip on my sweets and feel less without them in my mail jeep. I like knowing they are there. It is odd to have this ‘value’ in no value items.

    Like clinging to love that is really abuse.

    I am holding on to the food that is keeping me overweight and out of shape, tired and lazy…and pushing away the good.

    This is a repeating cycle in my wellness…holding on to what hurts me…fear of letting go of familiar even if familiar isn’t good.

  • New old natural way…

    I am strong enough to become weak and vulnerable.

    I am now open to receive instead of standing in defense, to look at life with an open chest instead of hunched over in protection.

    As I did yoga today, in the postures that required me to have my arms wide open and breathing deeply opening my chest, I visualized me receiving.

    Opening up like a flower bloom to welcome in the Sun.

    Receiving is something that I have forgotten to do for me, yet inside I feel the urge to receive.

    I am not sure what, for it is different than wanting or desiring, it is much easier… just being open and soft and welcoming.

    My hardness was for self-protection and as I discovered my voice, spoke my feelings and set up boundaries, my hardness began to soften and become supple.

    I was growing stronger and softer, exchanging old tired overworked defense muscles for the unused scrunched up receiving ones.

    In yoga I notice you have to relax one muscle and tense up the other, it is letting go and pulling, that in order to go deeper you relax one set and flex the other.

    Inside I feel strong enough to relax and grow soft, to weaken my hyper alertness for trouble and to heighten my awareness for joy and beauty, to be open to trust and love life in a new old natural way.

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  • I see me

    “Tolerance is another word for indifference.” William Somerset Maugham

    I am not sure you can have tolerance unless you are indifferent.

    Indifferent – without care or interest: showing no care or concern for or interest in somebody or something.

    I am looking at abuse and addictions from the point of the person who is on the receiving end.

    Usually abuse is looked at from the point of the abuser or addictions from the point of the substance.

    We forget to look closely at the person who is getting abused and why they have the tolerance or seem indifferent to the blows and words that are hitting them; it is because they are without care or interest for their self.

    They are indifferent to their own life.

    They show no care or concern for or interest in their own life.

    My question is when did they become so careless?
    When did they let them selves go?
    What happened that they no longer care?

    What I can know in my life is that I don’t even recall a self; I was too little to know I had a self to hang on to, to care about and to care for, and it was gone.

    My self was gone before I even had a chance to know it and know that there was something to protect.

    When a child is raised in an environment where the adults are indifferent to the child’s needs, we then become indifferent to them ourselves.

    Imagine, parents who are indifferent, without care or interest: showing no care or concern for or interest in somebody or something…and that somebody is you.

    We learn indifference.

    How they treat us is how we treat ourselves.

    We learn how to not care or show interest in our selves.

    In fact in order to survive, it is best to not have a self.

    For a self would feel their indifference and we don’t want to feel their indifference.

    It is easier to be without a self, to live in a pretend space, making believe that they care and the only way you can believe that story is to be separated from your self.

    To deny your body, deny your feelings, to not be connected to the self.

    A self who is not there will not feel their indifference…but lke the old saying goes, “If a tree falls and no one is in the forest to hear it, does it still make a noise?”

    In the same manner, if a child isn’t there to feel the indifference, does the indifference still happen?

    If a self is unaware does the indifference still affect them?

    When you are indifferent how can you know indifference?

    I don’t know what was more shocking their indifferences or me not caring for me, for me to see the lack of interest in my own life and wellbeing.

    I was indifferent to my whole life…and had to bring me back to my world, to undo the indifferences and learn how to care.

    In caring I found me.

    I am no longer indifferent… I see me.

  • Normally intolerant of Abuse

    Addiction is an uncontrollable compulsion to repeat a behavior regardless of its negative consequences. The condition of being abnormally dependent on something…being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on.

    My brother brought to my attention that addiction is to be abnormally tolerant.

    Abnormally tolerant regardless of its negative consequence…to me it is to be addicted to negative results.

    Imagine being addicted to negative outcomes!

    Being abnormally tolerant of negative results.

    Dr. Maya Angelou says, “Children’s talent to endure stems from their ignorance of alternatives.”

    What she calls our talent to endure, becomes our abnormal tolerance to negative consequences.

    We have a unique talent to tolerate bad behaviors or treatment to ourselves. I find this highly intriguing, that it isn’t the substance, but the abnormal tolerance to the substance that is our demise.

    Abnormal tolerance…to negative outcomes.

    What a cycle.

    When we have this abnormal tolerance we can withstand and endure what most normal folks couldn’t begin to fathom, and the rougher of a childhood, the stronger this endurance is the more negative treatment we can withstand.

    And mixed in the mix is love. In fact we endure for love.

    We are taught that parents love, that families love and we endure all treatment for the sake of love.

    What I know in my experience is that I tolerated a lot in the name of love.

    What is so striking as well, is that when I began separating myself from the bad behavior I couldn’t find the love.

    I guess what is the most tragic of all is you suffered, endured, tolerated, and withstood huge amounts of pain, in order to be loved, and in the end all that lay on the ground is abuse.

    The negative consequences to abnormally tolerating or being able to live under such dire circumstances is that we don’t know how to be normal. To rise up to the tolerant level, to know what is normal treatment, to thin out our thick skin, to make boundaries from a normal point of view.

    I was tough and I could endure and tolerate lots, but I had to find out how to become weak and vulnerable, to soften and feel the slightest insult and own it.

    I had to become aware of my softness inside and protect it, refusing to tolerate again for the sake of love.

    I had to become normally intolerant of abuse.

  • Taking the same steps.

    I backed away from people who hurt me, I retreated from untruths, receded from supporting religions, I moved from co-dependency, I pulled myself back from all the places that seemed to support dysfunction and it seems I landed in a corner with my back pressed against the walls of truth, and I now am standing alone.

    Perhaps this is how we enter into Heaven, we come alone with our suitcases fully packed with our lessons, our truths spilling out, our journey’s pivotal moments all stacked up like final exams waiting to be scored.

    Did I pass? Can I fail? How will I know?

    Sometimes it seems that in separating my truth from fiction, I have backed myself right out of my life.

    It is like I am at the end of my fictional life and a toddler in my new life.

    Simultaneously dying and being born, grieving while celebrating, saying good-bye and saying hello, a stranger and a new friend all living as me.

    It is like doing your own autopsy searching for the cause of death and witnessing your birth while being born, all at once.

    My greatest challenge is to find a new place to stand without the exhaust fumes of lingering fears clouding up my new self.

    To live fearlessly after knowing great fear, and not pack too much of the past into the present, be aware but not wary.

    Just as horses where blinders to shield them from scary things, I wear blinders that seem to shield me from good things. I wear them backwards.

    These blinders of immense fear stop me from seeing other alternatives.

    A wise woman kindly suggested removing the blinders, and letting in a view from the side.

    To see if perhaps there is a way to release the high emotions and find common ground where we are looking in the same direction but with two different sets of eyes.

    Self absorbed and selfish, is wearing blinders. Even if the blinders are made out of fear, they are blinders nonetheless.

    As a horse who has traveled so long relying on just one set of eyes, I am fearful in allowing others to see…with me or maybe for me.

    And to take my eyes off my road seems careless.

    Yet this one eyed view in a relationship, renders the other blind.

    Fearlessly I will have to take my eyes off my journey and look into his.

    And then perhaps when our eyes join together we will see a perfect view.

    Like getting the perfect pair of glasses that correct the distortion in our eyesight.

    I recall reading somewhere, that if two people are exactly alike as a couple, then one of them isn’t necessary. What I need isn’t someone who sees like me, but rather someone who sees what I don’t see.

    It doesn’t mean I give up my view, but I include his, and perhaps then we can find a place where we can walk together seeing differently but taking the same steps.