I M Perfect lady

Tag: behaviors

  • Trajectory of my life.

    Going to sleep last night with tears drying on my cheeks, after feeling the feelings of being a child with no one at your back, to feel the absence of protection of safety, and feeling the feeling of free falling with screams and no landing, I awoke to wondering who has my back now.

    I understood that most of my over dramatic ways is due to the fact that I have been unhealed, and that I have been healing as I walk with my daughter in what I call abuse, and how as I watch others respond, I am again plunged back 45 years and get to see and feel the dynamics of my own childhood.

    The present day actions are bringing forth my unexpressed feelings and giving me the chance to voice them now, letting my little girl say what she needed to say, feel what she needed to feel.

    Yet, my thought as I went to sleep last night, was who has my back now?

    Who is supporting me, who is standing with me and walking my walk?

    Am I living with people who are for me or against me?

    Frightened I felt alone again, almost childlike yet with adult options.

    I can flee; I can go where no one can hurt me.

    Confused about leaving or staying, I fell asleep.

    This morning I began writing and became more confused, so I went to my room with the heater running for yoga, and was hit directly that here, this is the warm caring I need, and then quickly felt that, I am the one I am waiting for.

    I am the one who cares for me, who will bring me to places that I need to be, allow me to speak when I need to speak…

    I am my own mother, I love and care for me.

    I have my back.

    While inside I felt the desperate need of wanting to be cared for, it would actually be relying on others for my needs, wanting them to take care of me, to be a child again.

    Wanting to feel like a child being taken care of is going backwards, reverting to childhood…

    It is my job to heal me, to feel and separate the emotions from childhood and those from today, to not mix my anger towards my mother with my husband, to keep the plays in their own era.

    The degree of separation is huge.

    Knowing that I can set the stage, make my life comfortable, that I am strong enough to watch my own back, and have the courage to speak my words, always, is huge. That I can withstand deep sadness, grief and sorrow, that I can still find my inner balance and core, that I can muddle through until clarity can be found, that I am healing and dealing and being who I am coming from whence I came.

    A woman whose childhood left scars she now has to deal with along with the raising her children, even when they dovetail, and I am asked to flow between child and mother, the wounded and the healer, the caretaker and the needy, I make it, I deal, I survive the ride down the rapids of emotions and character changes.

    What a dance, to be playing all parts, and feeling their psychological damage and or healing, repairing as I go…while growing new emotional strength leaves me exhausted and exhilarated.

    My inner body feels like it has been churned up and shot through with huge holes, bruised and achy in the feelings that run through me.

    I feel inside like I ran back-to-back marathons and carried my daughters and generations with me, that I was solving the puzzles and correcting movements, re-writing my life’s script.

    And in doing so, will change the trajectory of my life.

  • A new you emerges…

    “When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge.” ~Tuli Kupferberg

    Somehow this quote paints a scene of great Art, of stepping out of the box and being presented with a wondrous new world.

    In my experience breaking an old pattern requires stamina, fearlessness, standing out and being different, walking away from familiar and entering into the unknown, which I guess is where the new world emerges.

    Even if the new world is much healthier, happier and more peaceful, there is sorrow as the old pattern dies.

    It is a piece of your personality or a fragment of you that is being disposed of.

    If I were to pile up all the old patterns that I broke, you would see a whole person standing there.

    Her pattern had shades and tones of abuse and dysfunction, faint colors of washed out places of low self-esteem, heavy dark corridors of unawareness and brainwashing along with righteously wrong values.

    She was an enigma, a very confusing mystery to unravel, a body of truth and a head of fiction.

    The breaking of the pattern was all headwork, my patterns of thoughts and beliefs that didn’t match reality and I had to work to reconfigure them in my head.

    It was going backwards in time and reworking or removing the patterns I had set in my head.

    Patterns of me that were formed by childhood, patterns that reflect those who raised me, those who cared for me, doing the best they knew how.

    It was their pattern that I was living by, not mine.

    I was a designed for their use not mine.

    When patterns are broken, a new you emerges….

  • Mask of High Morals.

    When I looked up the meaning of Evil it said “profoundly immoral or wrong.” And when I looked up the word Immoral it said ”contrary to accepted moral principles.”

    And, Moral is defined as “relating to issues of right and wrong” or “derived from personal conscience: based on what somebody’s conscience suggests is right or wrong, rather than on what rules or the law says should be done.”

    So evil is breaking the moral code.

    What happens in a family where the moral code is twisted, if right is wrong and wrong is right?

    When a child breaks that code, instead of being right, the family actually sees them as evil, for they broke the family’s moral code.

    I am surprised that evil is actually defined more by morals or immoral behavior than actual rules and laws.

    Discerning evil is harder when what you call normal is evil and good is a foreign concept.

    Evil is actually only a personal affront to your own morals. And the morals are personal to you.

    Morals, “according to common standard of justice: regarded in terms of what is known to be right or just, as opposed to what is officially or outwardly declared to be right or just.”

    What is known to be right or just, not what is an official right or wrong.

    My teachings of evil or my awareness of morals were defined by my parents and my mother’s religion, the churches conscience was my mothers.

    Evil is going against the morals…and if the morals themselves are evil, then what?

    Raised in a vaccum of evil morals all good becomes evil.

    Imagine living up to evil morals…where the gold standard is far beneath its value, where bad is seen as good and good bad.

    It seem perposterous, incredibly insane, to not recognize evil, the evil of the norm. But when your evil was defined by a limited cult of religious fanatics, you are then raised to see anything outside the walls of the churches morals to be wrong.

    The church wore a mask of high morals.

  • A pocket of Unreality.

    What I think I have been doing in an odd way is by only looking at the criminal, I spared my ‘dad’.

    By focusing so much on the criminal aspects, I negated joining them with my father. I left the father part pushed far away, in a spot where crimes can’t touch him.

    I didn’t want my criminal to intertwine with my dad.

    I didn’t want the combo, the molesting dad.
    I wanted the criminal called Ray.

    This is a reverse of what I did as a child.

    The time has come to join the two together and make them one, a criminal dad.

    Then I become the daughter that he hurt.

    Not just a random girl, and he not a random man.

    The two parts merge as one; the disassociation now associates with both sides of the same mirror, no more trickery.

    I didn’t know that I had slipped the dad in a special spot, and only focused on the criminal, that I had still kept them separated inside.
    In my heart of hearts, in the fiber of my being I had separated them and never spoke of dad crime, just Ray crime.

    This is incredible to me that I had flipped and exchanged into my mental hiding spot, a dad.

    I hadn’t brought them together inside of me for reconciliation.

    Which is why in order to write a letter they will become one.

    A criminal dad.

    Even resorting to his given name or using the word father, removing the familiar comfortable name while addressing his crimes kept the dad safe inside.

    I would not have known that I was hanging on to a dad inside, that I immediately changed his name when the crime came in, yet there is no way to quickly alter the mind’s beliefs and thoughts attached to him.

    Now the time has come to drop the divider and let them hook up together.

    A little girl sits with a criminal dad; there is no separation or pretend space he can sit in, nor I.

    The restraining letter should have been addressed to my mom accomplice.

    What I failed to realize is I was separating them inside by addressing them by their given names, so that I wasn’t saying my mom did this or my dad did that…I was making my familiar into strangers for the crimes.

    This is unreal to me that I protected the child in me by not joining the two together, reversed from my childhood days, but nonetheless kept them separated.

    Perhaps a letter addressed to Mom and Dad is what is needed, to speak my peace now standing in a spot where there is no veil between the roles of mom and dad and criminal and accomplice.

    I never knew that you could do reverse disassociation, switching the good for bad or the bad for good, that the mechanism worked both ways.

    A pocket of unreality. Where real could hide and not be seen by me.

  • Thy Will Be Done

    A thought came to me last night as I lay down to rest, “Being a Victim is easy….”

     

    Being a victim requires NOTHING from you, you get to just sit and wait for the world to change.

     

    Victims always have someone to blame you are never held accountable, you are blame free, a loving kind individual and the world is beating you up.

     

    Someone is always coming in and wrecking your world so you lose your kind demeanor.

     

    It is by far easier to point a finger at the cause of why you act the way you act, than it is to change your actions.

     

    “If someone can steal your peace, You are the Loser”…says, Bikram.

     

    I just never felt to the depth of my soul, that being a victim was the easy way out that it required less than actually making a change.

     

    It seems that it is more painful to be a victim, but now I am wondering if that is true?  Maybe it is actually harder to change, to walk out of the old patterns, and do something different.

     

    Make a new response; require more from your self and less from the world, to bring back to you the ownership of all your behaviors.

     

    Instead of people out there pushing your buttons, keep your fingers on your own buttons; turn the buttons inward, so when you explode, it was you who did it, not some outside source.

     

    Changing from victim to empower is wearing your emotional clothes inside out, so all the buttons are on the inside, where there is no one to blame but yourself, each and every time you speak or act out, you are the only one hurting yourself.

     

    Is it possible to be Masochistic to self?

     

    It is a cycle of self-abuse.

     

    How is it easier to remain in that role, than it is to stop the pain?

     

    It just doesn’t seem right that it is easier to be hurt over and over, to have your hopes and dreams dashed again and again?

     

    How is it so much easier to be so out of control of your self?

     

    And yet, most of the victims I know are working so hard to control the world and yet are unable to see that they are the ones out of control in their own world.

     

    There is a slight but profound difference between being in control in a world that’s in control, or being out of control by and out of control world.

     

    The mirror affect yet again.

     

    If you are a victim, the world is out to get you.

     

    When you are not, the world is out to give you all that you could ever dream and more.

     

    It is literally impossible to be kind in a mad world, the laws of the Universe works beautifully always, "Thy will be done".