I M Perfect lady

Tag: choices

  • Waiting to be told.

    I thought came to me why no one is asking, why no one is making an independent move,for they all are waiting to be told.

    Not told there is a pedophile, but told what to do.

    As far as I remember, the church was setup and families set up for there to be one dominating figure, be it God, Father or husband.  It wasn’t a place where individuals were able to think for themselves or act independently, it was driven by the Head.

     The Head of the church or of the family makes the decision….we wait for the okay.

    And the Head, which we have approached, are not interested or responsive. 

    It is my humble opinion that they will sit in the pews waiting instruction from on high.  And I feel to the depths of my bones, it will not come from that direction.

    When my children  have choices to make I offer them my viewpoint and then I say, honey, this is your life and your choice, you will have to make the ultimate decision, it is not something I can do for you.

    And I can see them weighed heavy by the choices, and we both wonder what will their minds and desires tell them to do.

    As I was pondering my oldest daughter and a choice that has arrived in her world, it came to me that many in the FALC, haven’t ever been given the liberty of choice.

    The church has always made the choices for them. 

    Wear this, don’t wear that.

    Listen to this, don’t listen to that.

    Don’t watch TV, don’t go to Movies.

     Go forth and multiply.

    What I feel down deep is that they are waiting for directions on this, from the pulpit, from the boards or the leaders within. 

    And I also feel this is beyond what the Leaders have been prepared for, have been taught or educated on.  This is out of their league, and damn it, it would be wonderful if they would just say so, instead of saying and doing nothing.

    Saying and doing nothing will not change the outcome.

    There needs to be a fearless leader to stand up and take charge, or the church will decay and fall apart from the inside out. 

    It was always preached that the devil lurked outside of this religion, now is the time for them to stop looking outward and instead look within.

    It pushes me into my chair, to believe that many fine folks are doing nothing, because they are waiting to be told.

     

     

  • An Old Friend I outgrew.

    I went and did yoga this morning, and it felt sooo good.  My body yearns to be stretched, my neck and jaw are so tight, that I could stay much longer in the postures that are pulling on those muscles.  My arms also are sorely in need of being put in awkward positions as to stretch the bunched up overworked muscles always going in one direction.

     As I work sorting mail my left arm is bent to hold a pile of mail, this arm was painfully stretched out and that felt so good.

    Towards the end of my hour and a half routine, it came to me that my programmed self needs a body that is sluggish and asleep, in order to pull a quick one on me time and time again. 

    So, there has been a struggle within me, as my awareness becomes more aware, the odd twist between my ‘treats’ and how they feel are coming to light, and their gig is up. 

    I believe that the more brainwashed you are and the more confused you are about what feels good and what is bad…the more you need to have a shut down body.

    Perhaps a clear mind starts to crave foods that will help the body be a clear signal reader too. 

    I just feel that the mindset I had matched the shutdown foods that I ate.  They swayed in harmony together, holding each other up. 

    Yoga is a health food in my day; and I don’t like the way my body feels when it misses this.

    It also came to me while mowing the grass…We never ‘miss’ a sweet treat, or short ourselves on chocolate, or cheat and only eat a half a candy, but when doing yoga, I am tempted to stop early or doing anything that is truly good, we tend to slough off…but the old reliable bad stuff we are faithful to.

    Just interesting to notice where we cut corners and when we take more than our fair share.

    Perhaps soon I will be a yoga hog and glutton when it comes to fresh fruits and veggies and my old sweet treats will become an old friend I outgrew.

     

  • Save your soul.

    The biggest hurdle in stopping abuse is stopping being a part of the family it is within. How easy to report abuse in another family but where it actually counts is when you see it and respond in kind within your own.

     

    To stop treating a father as a dad and see his actions of being a pedophile and putting him away and out of reach of other little girls.  My family failed at this big time.

     

    The authorities brought him to court, but the family set him free.

     

    I wish this was an anomaly but sadly, most will defend the father and not even let it get as far as ours did.

     

    There is this thing called, “Unconditional Love” that keeps this from happening, and another thing called, “Forgiveness of Sins” that does as well.

     

    We all think that the biggest thing we can do is report pedophiles to the authorities, but that is only a small portion of the job.

     

    The biggest deal is to take a family and rip it apart seeing who really does what, what are they doing, bringing and being, to bring in consciousness where before blindness lived.

     

    The key components a pedophile needs the most is your undying faith in them, your unconditional love and your willingness to continue to bless away his bad behaviors…for you to be relentless in this and NEVER changing.

     

    What most fail to realize it aren’t the authorities that are to blame but the families of these perpetrators.  Well, I believe the law of the land needs a big wake up call and to see that they are allowing dysfunctional families to call the shots…

     

    For as it stands now they are asking blind people to see and act clearly.

     

    Most often, and in my case it is true, that I wasn’t the first one abused, but rather just one of a long line of generations worth.

     

    This was normal behavior.  A mother who was unable to discern abuse for she herself never healed from her own abuse.  Her abused self worth and image attracted a man who operated at the same level.

     

    I am finding out that my brother and I are very much changelings within our family’s heritage, that every now and then one comes along and switches the family traditions, but in order to do so, you leave the family.

     

    What most want is to stop abuse, but what few will do is stop being part of a family.

     

    You will have to go against generations of folks, relatives in order to stop abuse.

     

    It isn’t a simple task, for 99% of the abuse is from someone you know and trust and of the 99%, 50% is from someone who is your blood relative.

     

    It is like turning against your own self…and is.

    You will have to take all you have ever known and begin yet again.

     

    I get so incensed with folks who tell me…I would never or I don’t stand with abuse, while they are still having relationships with people who abuse.

     

    It is insanity.  You are being just as abusive to the child by having a relationship with the person who hurts little children.  The child sees who you are aligned with and KNOWS you are not a safe person or one to help them.

     

    This matter is far more complex than it appears.

     

    Abuse is an infection that has spread through generations of families and will continue on unless you walk away. 

     

    You have to leave the infection called abuse… IT will not leave you.

     

    It will not one day change from hurtful abuse to wonderful love, stop pretending time will heal and change things.

     

    You have to leave it in order to be free of it…and then you have separated your self or isolated the infection to just you and then the real work starts.

     

    You have to see it in all your thoughts and beliefs and have to start working on each one to right it.

     

    To change your old definition of unconditional love to love that is free of abusive effects.

     

    You have to change your mind about a million things.

    You have to be willing to not know your self or those you ‘loved’.

     

    You have to be willing to walk a walk against family and ‘loved’ ones.

     

    I walked this walk…and while it was extremely tough, it is well worth the effort. 

     

    You will not walk alone; you will have the guidance of the Universe if you are a seeker of the truth.

     

    You will be changing your very DNA and the legacy you were born into.

     

    I will help anyone who has been chosen to walk this walk.

     

    So, go ahead and report, but mostly start the dialogue in how far would you go to stop abuse, would you go the whole way, would you forsake the world to save your soul?

     

  • Many years of pain.

    Yoga is the opposite of junk food for the soul and when done, I get left with a wonderful feeling, a relaxed stretched out calmness…a great way to begin my day.

     

    What I marvel at is that I drag my body to the mat, I slowly exit the bed, and begrudgingly tossing the quilt aside, I almost angrily put the heater going, like preparing for my death or torture. 

     

    And it is torture to take this neglected body and bring it back to life, to make the muscles strong, as they should be, or the joints as flexible and mobile as is their nature.

     

    I have noticed in the past few months, when I have been doing just a few yoga sessions a week, that I have fallen backwards in how my body moves.

     

    I can see how we become stiff and weak.  It is by far easier to stay beneath the covers and not make the effort.  But we will have pain either way… as Bikram says, “90 minutes or 90 years.”

     

    By making the difficult choice of getting out of bed, I struggle or suffer for 90 minutes and that will save me many years of pain. 

     

  • When I am 80.

    My writing assignment was to write a letter from my eight-year-old self to my adult self, and I sat there blank.  I could not figure out what the little girl needed to tell me.

     

    So, I went and did my morning yoga session. And it came to me that if I look at her sitting within a family of dysfunction and her seeing her older self having escaped, that perhaps then there would be lots to say.

     

    My little self would look upon this adult woman and admire the strength it took for her to walk the walk needed to walk the walk to get her out of the situation of her childhood and to now be working on becoming more artful self.

     

    She at 8 could look upon me where I stand today and be so grateful that I was able to circle back and regain the ownership and awareness of her soul. 

     

    That I was able to traverse the wild churning waters of abuse and arrive seemingly unscathed and actually prospering as an adult woman, she would be amazed at my ability to withstand the truth and then to make new choices based upon it.

     

    She would be so grateful that I am no longer in abusive relationships or that I am still being victimized, that I have learned how to do self care, to speak for my self and have the strength to follow through.

     

    She would breath a sigh of relief to know that we survived and are now heading into an even brighter future, where I am honing my self-awareness with yoga and The Artist’s Way, that we are on the pathway of self-loving.

    At times I too find it hard to see the distance I traveled and the depth and breath of change that my life has withstood…I stand with my little girl in awe of where we have been and sit in gratitude we not only survived but also are thriving.

     

    What brings me the most peace is that I can look straight into my little girl’s eyes and feel proud and wise and strong, and not have to look away in shame and guilt.

     

    I feel so strongly confident that we are on the right path, and that when I am 80; I will look upon this 52-year-old self the same way.

     

    And in fact there is a writing assignment to write a letter from your 80-year-old self to your 50-year-old self.

     

    I found that much easier, for I was telling me what the Artist’s Way is teaching me, to be more artful, more daring, more wild in learning new things and experimenting, to go out and grasp all the delights the world has to offer, to change your routine, to add some spice and thrill, to toss in colorful experiences…

     

    I want to be at 80, what I am today, but more of it. 

     

    I want to look backwards at the next 30 years and be breathless at what I did!

     

    Each Artist’s date is adding to the list of things that will blow my mind as I look back when I am 80.

     

     

     

     

  • Pain Free

    "A huge part of our task becomes noticing unskillful reactions and learning to let them go. This is not a denial of some part of our self. It is simply the abandoning of actions that cause harm and suffering (mostly to ourselves). When we pick up a hot utensil on the stove, we don’t have to think about who we are before we drop it, or who we might become if we dropped it, or become afraid that we would not be authentic to ourselves if we drop it—it’s painful and we drop it!Most of us only make such a mistake once. It’s the same in the heart, except that the hot utensil has been in our hand so long, maybe most of our life, that we’ve forgotten what not buring feels like or don’t know who we would be without the burning, we are afraid to put it down. This may sound absurd, but when you think how hard it is to stop being defensive in the face of criticism, or to let go of self-judgment, it makes sense.  But that doesn’t mean easy.”                       Sean Felt

     

    I saw this posted on Facebook, and find that it is the perfect paragraph I was seeking to explain how it is easier to hang on and continuing doing the same hurtful thing instead of letting go and changing. 

    It seems incredibly insane to want to hold near and dear to you things that cause you pain, but if the only ‘normal’ you have ever known feels this way, it isn’t painful it is love.

    Which is why it is so very difficult to get people to drop the burning utensils, for they have become calloused and acclimated and have forgotten what not burning feels like.

    Not burning feels like an enemy when it is actually your friend.

    This flipped upside down reactionary response to clutch hurtful things and steer away from cool non-hurtful ones, creates a journey filled with self inflicted pain for we don’t know how to let go.

    As incredible as it seems it is ‘easier’ to hang on than let go.

    It is the only self we know, this painful hurting self, we fear being a pain free self.  

    I have found that it is incredibly hard to let go and drop that which hurts you, when you had labeled hurt love.

    I wasn’t dropping abuse… I was dropping love.

    It seems so silly that you will not release yourself from hurt, but we don’t call it hurt we call it love.

    And in this flipped out state, our reactions are the opposite of what is normal.  Clutching hurt we push away from real love.

    We live as this anomaly, upside down and inside out.

    It’s not easy to change this, it will take Herculean efforts to return your self to normal responses, to reset your reactions to what hurts and what doesn’t, to feel normal while pain free.

     

  • A wooden Lady

    It came to me while writing today, that I used to be a rock.  A solid unmoving sturdy chunk of ‘being okay’ no matter what Rock; that you couldn’t shake my good nature.

     

    I withstood false promises and never showed my disappointment, I relied on the unreliable to come through and never once stood up and walked away.  I lived for years and years being the rudder in lives that seemed to be adrift and in need of my steadiness, getting splashed upon and caught in the undertow, yet remained standing with them.

     

    I somehow felt so needed and secure to be their rock.

     

    A rock. That was my role.

     

    Not partner, friend, mutual exchanging, but a rock.

    Something to stand upon, sit upon reliable always being there, for them…my needs, thoughts, feelings hidden under the solid hard cover.

     

    Looking back at my rock days, being a rock star perhaps in a sick and twisted way, I see that I had no sense to move out of the way, that I didn’t have legs to move me, like a rock I waited for some one to come along and pick me up and throw me out of the relationship I was in.

     

    It literally never occurred to me to move.

     

    Six and a half years later I am good at moving, I am fluid like a stream, I show my emotions and voice my feelings, I am no longer stuck in the hailstorm of others peoples lives, I respond in kind to what comes my way, I move, I bend and turn…free.

     

    I watch now other rock ladies and witness the sickening way they try to control things that are out of their control, like an alcoholics wife the promises never take root.

     

    It is weird that the rock changes color depending upon who they are with, like a huge living breathing mood ring…they fill in the weak spot, overlook the negative and bring in the balance of what is missing.  It never crosses their minds to leave, to turn and get out.

     

    What I felt was a solid rock of good nature, was actually a solid rock victim.

     

    The difference of how you feel inside filling up the low spots in a relationship, like you are helping, adding, growing, when if fact you are helping them remain less.

     

    At first glance it seems like a good deed, that you are being so accommodating, but in actuality you are enabling them to treat you poorly.

     

    It is like you are helping them slap your face again and again, while you sit as a rock.

     

    I was proud of how much I could withstand, see it as my strength, and all it showed was how little I thought of myself.

     

    I was a rock…I was an island….isn’t that a line in a song?

     

    What continues to shock me is how backwards I had everything…sitting as a rock never moving, being so loyal…like a wooden lady.

     

     Smug mug pics 2527

     

     

  • My own Little Plot

    It is hard to believe that I lived a life without a self that I had disappeared from my life and had not even noticed it, for I left my life before I had a life.

     

    Without knowing I got a life of my own, I spent all my time in other people’s business, leaving my own life quite vacant.

     

    I simply didn’t live a separated life.

     

    The biggest part of myself was lived in the midst of other people’s world, what I meant to them, how I made them feel, I was an interchangeable part to them.

     

    I was a piece of them.

     

    When I latched on to a person who needed me, I came alive.

     

    Set me alone…I had no value.

     

    Having zero value by myself left me very much dependent upon others, hence the word co-dependent, for my sense of self.

     

    Finding a self that stood alone was near impossible.

    I had no definition if the words sister, mother, daughter, wife, friend were not around.

     

    Who was I to myself?

     

    I wasn’t as good a friend to me as I was to my friends, nor did I mother myself as wonderful as I tried to mother my children, nor was a good partner to myself as I was to my husband.

     

    In the end all my efforts outside of myself left me completely empty…for I ignored my self while taking care of others.

     

    Imagine 46 years with nothing to show for my self.

     

    My self had lived silently still while I toiled in people’s lives.

     

    It is like weeding and tending a garden that you are unable to eat from, leaving you starving while they enjoy the crop you took care of.

     

    Slaving over their fields while my own was over run from neglect.

     

    What freedom came when I understood we are all gardeners of our own lives, that each of us can plant the kinds of things we love, and pull up and out the things that prick us.

     

    I love my life now that I see it as my own little plot!

     

  • Enter In

    Julia Cameron writes in The Artist’s Way, “I like to think of the mind as a room.  In that room, we keep all our usual ideas about life, God, what’s possible and what’s not.  The room has a door.  That door is ever so slightly ajar, and outside we can see a great deal of dazzling light.  Out there in the dazzling light are a lot of new ideas that we consider too far-out for us, and so we keep them out there. The ideas we are comfortable with are in the room with us. The other ideas are out, and we keep them out.”

     

    “In our ordinary, prerecovery life, when we would hear something weird or threatening, we’d just grab the doorknob and pull the door shut.  Fast.”

     

    “Inner work triggering outer change?  Ridiculous! (Slam the door.) God bother to help my own creative recovery? (Slam.)  Synchronicity supporting my artist with serendipitous coincidences? (Slam, slam, slam.)

     

    “Now that we are in creative recovery, there is another approach we need to try. To do this, we gently set aside our skepticism – for later us, if we need it – and when a weird idea or coincidence whizzes by, we gently nudge the door a little further open.”

     

    “Setting skepticism aside, even briefly, can make for very interesting explorations.  In creative recovery, it is not necessary that we change any of our beliefs.  It is necessary that we examine them.”

     

    “More than anything else, creative recovery is an exercise in open-mindedness.  Again, picture your mind as that room with the door slightly ajar. Nudging the door open a bit more is what makes for open-mindedness. Begin, this week, to consciously practice opening your mind.”      Julia

     

     

    Yesterday I was panicked due to my one-day weekend, and I was not open to letting the chores go and just using it as my play day as I had threatened to do.  I slammed the door on playing, staying with old habits of getting my jobs done first.

     

    I was crabby but doing the work.  Resenting that I couldn’t play.

     

    It is like being locked in a room to which you have the key, yet unable to actually use it to turn yourself free.

     

    There is an exchange I can’t see to agree with, messy house in exchange for playing!

     

    I want both.  And if I stay that course, I will continue exchanging playtime for work time, for as we all know there is always another job to be done.

     

    She is suggesting that we ‘use’ this excuse in order to keep our Artist from going to explore the wide-open world, that we have become comfortable in the cramped workspace.

     

    My grumpiness spread like a virus, or tried to, but most left me alone in my unhappiness. 

     

    My daughter took her playtime first, and later on in the fading daylight mowed the grass.  My resentment at her is that she has mastered the art of play over work time…and is doing what I can’t allow me to do. 

     

    I blame her for me being unable to exchange playing for a clean house. 

     

    As I sit with this thought, I used to get appreciation and attention for keeping my mother’s house in order…and the opposite may be true, wrath if I didn’t help.

     

    I recall many siblings not caring where I cared too much.

     

    When I thought I cared about a clean house, in fact I cared what my mother thought of me.

     

    Perhaps, this is the issue that needs to be examined. 
    ”I am better if I have a clean house, even if I am grumpy.”

     

    Who do I like better or who feels better inside?

     

    It seems my self-identity is wrapped up in what I do and how external things look. 

     

    How brave to let it all go and play…That is the challenge this week…being a child doing what she feels like, letting go of responsibilites that can wait.  The 'mother' in my head may want me to slam the door to fun, but I have to be strong enough to nudge it open and enter in.

     

  • Don’t Put Time First.

    We cannot waste time. We can only waste ourselves. ~George M. Adams

    I love this phrase. How we think we are only wasting time, when what we are doing is wasting ourselves.

    As you look upon the day, we are asked to make choices by what life offers up to us, we can vote yes or no and that will decide how we used up time.

    I now know it is not a waste to sit by the river, to just be with singing birds, to experience the vast array of nature, but for me, it is a waste to be barraged by negative energies.

    I don’t mind messes and a good crisis, but I do mind people unwilling to change or look at things in a new light, and who are just giving commentary from a mud puddle.

    It isn’t a waste of myself to lend a hand while someone is changing direction, but it is to just watch him or her sit.

    I focus less and less on time and more and more on what I am doing, where I am and how I feel.

    I used to race time on my mail route, for we get paid salary, and it seemed like I was beating the system to go fast, yet I missed the ride, while focusing on time.

    Now I experience the route, the people, the animals, the changing landscape, the weather, I am on the route. I am there in each moment and time passes unnoticed and at the same pace.

    It is amazing how your life will change when you don’t put time first.