I M Perfect lady

Tag: control

  • Your Own Life.

    The heeling of a dog on a leash is the perfect analogy of how I was raised and then how I raised my own children.  

    Certainly there is no real leash, but the feelings of being led around are very present.

    You are unable to move freely without a struggle and face the wrath of the leash holder; for it is expected you follow their lead.

    It goes much easier if the one on the leash has no voice or choice or mind of their own…mindlessly follow.  

    Breaking them in, beating them down, taking away their freedoms begins very early on.  We put them in leashes as little children…and they are taught to follow, not lead.

    And it certainly makes a difference if you are on the leash or holding the leash in your hand.

    Holding the leash in your hand, you don't want the person on the Leash to fight you, but to heel and acquiesce…

    I shudder at the way I raised my children, to be nice folks on a leash, to 'go along' without confrontation, to 'respect' authority, to be a good boy/girl; I showed them how best to live FOLLOWING me…rarely did they get to run free.  

    Well, they were free in the things I didn't care about….or would reflect back to me. But mostly I had a strong hand on the leash and expected and needed them to act a certain way.

    What is also very haunting is that when I took off their leashes, they didn't believe they were gone.  

    They didn't immediately go and run freely and make choices on their own…OR certainly didn't feel comfortable going against me….they were waiting for me to jerk back their chain and get them quickly back into MY choice.

    And in the past, being a good girl on the leash elicited loving praise from me.  I liked it when they did what I wanted without a fight.  And when they didn't I hollered until they obeyed…got back in line, behind me.

    Once free, they didn't know where the love would be found.

    In the past fighting the leash, love was withdrawn and my anger arose full force…love was delivered if you quietly went along.

    So, when you take of the constrictions and constraints, they don't know how to judge their own actions…or mine…and now what does love mean? Or where do you get it???

    Removing the force from the relationship left us all in an odd place.

    I didn't know how to mother letting kids do as they wanted….any more than my kids knew how to be free kids.

    It took time, like six years and counting to undo the damage of the leash.

    When you are praised and loved for not fighting for your own feelings and life…you feel its unloving to embrace your own set of values, feelings and choices.  It seems harsh and angry NOT to follow the woman with the leash in her hand.

    What was so interesting in my life, was that I was learning how to be off the leash with my mother, while I was letting my children's leashes go.

    I was able to see what I needed and could give the same to my children. For you can't just unleash yourself from your family of origin, and keep your children on a leash.  

    The disconnection has to be complete…no leashes and total freedom to move. If you are still holding the leash, you are both prisoner to the dysfunction…and the legacy continues.

    This was perhaps the hardest lesson to navigate; to restore freedom in my family.  Oh it was hard won…and stilll continues to be.

    I have the unnatural instincts to control and to want everyone moving with me.  Leash lifestyle is comfortable for me…all moving as one.

    I feel anxious at times and unloved when they leave and do things that are not what I choose to do…forgetting that love is freedom.

    My mind still has a hard time without a leash in my hand….although, I am way fine with having removed mine from my mother's hand.

    Imagine in order for me to be free, I had to cut the leash and move away from my mother.  She didn't set me free, untie the leash and wish me well…instead she feels unloved now that I am free.

    Her feelings of Love was to have me on her leash…ME doing what makes her feel good, loved, happy…it had nothing to do with me.

    The hollow hole that is left when you leave the leash is almost unbearable, for you realize that all of the things you did for love was all for naught.  Sacrificing your freedom and self in order to win her love, was in and of itself abuse.  She didn't love you, she controlled you.

    And while giving up your life to be controlled you believed you had piles of love to relax upon….for you had given so Much…only to find nothing there.  Just cold piles of giving up…a cold and empty life.

    There is no life filled with love once the leash is gone.  Once the leash is gone, you are alone and separated, lost and unsure, but free.  

    It is then, that you begin to have your own life.  

     

     

     

     

  • Programmed self.

    Sometimes I sit here aghast at the programming that runs within me and wondering how much of it is left running, when will I uproot the last thread.

     

    It is hard to believe that each and every thing we do is for a reason, it has a belief attached to it, an ironclad will that has been laced through the middle…and we have to destroy it or it will destroy us.

     

    It is like having an enemy’s mind living in our cells.

     

    I have been putting off having a sweet treat for a few hours to regain control of my craving button.  Usually, the button goes off and I run to find what it craves. 

     

    I am coming to learn that I will not die or go crazy without it, and that the whining subsides and the mind goes on to something else.  It is talking back to the control or putting it on pause that I believe will eventually give me back my power.

     

    This programmed system that has been running my life is more than the abuse and the church, for both also imprinted on me that bad was good and good was bad, that self loving was bad, and neglect was good, that feeling wretched was good and feeling good was bad.

     

    Which is why it is so hard to get one clear precise belief on any one thing, for my major CPU reads bad good and good bad.

     

    Even if my mind knows best, my operating system discerns the opposite. 

    Just as foreign as I seem to my family, which is what a veggie treat feels like to my body.  Or my actions of yoga compared to actions of co-dependency my family of origin is used to. They want to feed upon me, not have me be my own self.

     

    I am not certain I can articulate this correctly, but me doing good for me feels bad for them.  And me doing good for me feels bad for my programmed old self.

     

    What is good for my programmed self will destroy my real self.

     

    What is bad for the programmed self is good for me.

     

    I am getting the twist and seeing that it is normal to feel the angst and stress and force it takes to wrestle back our rightful feelings, to unhook and rehook them onto the right feelings.

     

    I was programmed to feel bad when I should have felt good and visa versa.

     

    Incredible that the feelings are in sync with messed up mind.

     

    I knew it wasn’t just that there was a belief that was running along un-questioned, but that the feelings were messed up too.

     

    My body was programmed feel the opposite.

     

    Programmed feelings instead of having natural ones.

    My programmed self loves sweet treats, I feel like I am getting something good, when I am really feeding myself something that has no value.

     

    Imagine, my treats are getting something of no value.

     

    Very interesting to watch what your programmed to like and do and to explore deeper and see what is going on behind the façade.

     

    Within my childhood religion, the same dynamics were going on.  The sins were for the programmed person, not the real self, in fact what is a sin for the programmed person most likely was good for me.

     

    To take back ownership of my body.

    To not bless away others actions.

    To question all things and not just follow submissively.

    To seek my own relationship with God.

     

    Interesting to see what is programmed into you and then learn how to de-program it.  Mostly by doing the opposite of your childhood…you will find your way out of the programmed self.

     

  • Out of Control Controlled Person

    While discussing the attributes of suicide, two different people suggested that the body is out of control…and neither felt it was ‘them’ that did it, but a whole other person, a self that they did not know.

     

    I am very intrigued by how they see the person who almost died as someone different than them…and yet when they are well, or back on solid ground, that depressed person does not resemble the person who now has some control.

     

    This led me to ponder that you can be out of control as a rock, who is incapable of moving…or out of control moving… incapable of stopping.

     

    And it matters not whether you are moving or not moving, what matters is the lack of control.

     

    This lack of control means something or somebody else has control over you.

     

    You have lost owning your self.

     

    This lost self and the found self are totally different.

     

    A self that is under the control of a cult like religion and who has grown up in a dysfunctional family does not have control of her self at all.

     

    We give up the rights to our own lives, choices, beliefs…we lose control of self movement.

     

    No one says that a brainwashed person is out of control…we use that term only for moving things…yet it works the same for unmoving.

     

    The staunch faithful will not make a move that goes against the teachings of the church…while being controlled by others, they themselves have no control.   

     

    They only control themselves to remain faithful to the other that is controlling them.

     

    There is no self to control; they lost contact with the self.

     

    They see themselves through the controller’s eyes.

     

    Who would ever think that a person who is completely under the control of cult etc, is out of control?  It seems like an oxymoron.

     

    A very out of control controlled person.

     

     

     

     

  • Keep Play Alive!

    I discovered a great truth about myself and my feelings, that I want to own what I feel and it feels worse to have someone try and get me out before my time, I want feel as long as I want to feel.

    My mail route has been a five day a week job, and I found out on Thursday, that it was switching to a six day a week one week and then a five day the next, rotating every other Saturday off.

    I sulked, and I pouted, and felt deep disappointment in losing a day off, and when my boss tried to placate me with false hopes, it made me feel worse not better.

    It then came to me, it is much better to let a person sit in her pity puddle for as long as she likes and when she comes out on her own, she will be ready to face the life change that put her there.

    I felt cheated and manipulated and cajoled to be feeling a false emotion for her sake, but not mine. Me, I wanted to sit and grieve over my loss of a day off.

    And she felt responsible for my sadness and then tried to feed me false hopes of it being an error that perhaps it will change, etc.

    I told her, please just let me get accustomed to my loss, let me be here, I will adjust and acclimate myself in time. I am okay being sad.

    It began to bother me more that they couldn’t accept me being upset. I can now see it is best to honor the feelings and emotions and not try changing them with words.

    Just let them be.

    I can now see how I have mishandled or perhaps over-handled my daughter’s emotions messing around in them and confusing or mixing them up for my ease.

    I love that we have a right to our emotions and we can express them at our own pace.

    Losing a Saturday every other week does make me sad, it is like losing a play date, a recess or free time…I will have to manipulate the rest of my week to make up this time, perhaps giving up cleaning or washing clothes or cooking…sometimes it takes time to find the silver lining.

    Instead of giving up playtime, I will give up more domestic chores…every other week.

    Whatever it takes to keep Play alive!!!

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  • Colored windows lose their beauty.

    “A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still,” is a phrase that stops me from entering into a closed mind.

    What I find so enthralling is that religion isn’t a thing it is a thought.

    A thought, a wispy flighty jumble of words and it has the power to control a body and a family and a whole community a group and a bunch…just a few words.

    You can open up a church door and not find ‘religion’ and you can open up a mind and not find it there either, it is nowhere to be found, yet people build their whole lives based upon it.

    This illusive imaginative faith is as controlling as a dictator and yet there is no dictator to be found.

    When someone dies where does their religion go?

    Deepak Chopra says that you can dissect a brain and not find one single thought. And we know it isn’t held in our arms or legs, but yet we move like we are puppets on a string when we commit ourselves to a certain religion.

    Our words are tempered, our voices rising in unison using the same phrases and following the same rules, our minds are synchronized to match.

    Yet, when you take us apart no evidence will lay there.

    In fact the only evidence of your religion is how you lived your life, your life’s trail is a clue.

    What does your life’s trail look like?

    Just as there are footprints I believe there are religion prints that showed how you traversed this life.

    It shows what you leaped over or what you dodged, where you stopped and for how long, who you traveled with and why, your life history is your religious history.

    My first 46 years of my life were led by this religion, it told me who to be with and who to shy away from, what to overlook and what to look towards, who to befriend and to unfriend, who to care for and who to be indifferent to, when to shun and when to embrace, when to talk and when to sing…it controlled my everything.

    My body wasn’t mine it was a vehicle that I had to use to get to heaven and I had to do or not do certain things to it in order to arrive at Heaven’s gate.

    Heaven’s gate was the total focus and life and my body were out to see that I wouldn’t make it, they worked against me at every turn.

    It is my new understanding that what was working against my old religion was me. Me the individual, a me that wasn’t happy without a say.

    It may be hard for folks to realize the ramifications of following a religion and how it leaves out the individual freedom, where your own intuition is squelched.

    I was taught to not listen to my body and not to pay attention to the subtle and not so subtle messages it sent, to instead pull my attention away from the body and focus on the church.

    The church knew the way for me…yet many times I went against it, in shame and guilt, doing what felt right to me.

    It seems that the only way religion works is if they can control you mind body and soul. If the soul is alive if it has a whisper of breath, you will deviate off the path and be less controllable.

    What is so maddening to me is that they take the lives of people but they don’t care about the people.

    They are after the control, but not what they control. There is power when you control.

    Just as Hitler wanted power, he was able to control people to kill people…imagine???

    Perhaps religion has a kinder tone a more gentle approach a church it is housed in, with pretty glass windows, but it’s the overly sweetness that scares me.

    The charismatic chairman whose actions of indifference trail behind him. To the preacher whose trail of raped boys lie in his wake…the pretty colored windows lose their beauty.

  • Out of Control.

    The different responses to the death of a monster intrigue me and set me to wonder who in my life I needed to die?

    Whose death would bring me joy or freedom?

    Is there someone out there holding on to a part of me that is held hostage by their actions?

    No one came to mind.

    Most may think I will send up a resounding cheer upon the death of my father. But his death will be anticlimactic, for I have found my freedom and joy long before his passing.

    He is not holding on to any part of me, I am free and I don’t need him to die. I do not wait for his death.

    I heard on the radio yesterday that there are times when we have to amputate a relationship, to cut it out of our lives in order to live a whole life.

    The relationship suffered a death, I didn’t need him to die, I just needed to kill the relationship.

    I have stopped cold many relationships that impinged upon my own inner peace and wellness. I didn’t need the person to die; I just needed my relationships with them to.

    When we give them the power until death, we gain nothing.

    It is in the speaking up and taking back your life that you will find the power.

    I strongly believe that monsters need to be locked up, be made to stop hurting and killing others, but what I don’t understand is the sense of freedom and joy that rang out.

    The cheers have the markings of a monster themselves, a gleeful energy upon the death of another seems so barbaric and without reverence for the soul that was lost behind the sea of dysfunction and abuse.

    Isn’t there a saying about how we treat the least among us?

    Perhaps I have met and danced with my own inner monster and I have such compassion for the lady who stole my life and lived it out in the only way she knew coming from whence she came.

    I didn’t even cheer when she died, but I cheered when I became free from the madness inside of me.

    I cheer for inner victory.

    I cheer for being able to do this by only killing the monster inside of me, for wrestling with my shadow and winning.

    It is becoming stronger than the monster that peace will be won.

    To me we all have an inner monster to dance with and when you can succeed at winning that one, we will all live in peace and harmony.

    The seeds of a monster live within all of us and you don’t know what will make your monster come alive until you are fully engaged and out of control.

  • 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.

  • Unbelievers Live Free.

    In my old religion, those who left the church or perhaps those who never entered were called Unbelievers.

    These Unbelievers didn’t believe like we did, and in doing so didn’t move about the planet like us. They were ‘allowed’ to do things that good Believers were not allowed to do.

    Unbelievers were easy to spot, they had pierced ears, painted fingernails, colored hair, they were allowed to do things with their bodies we were not allowed to do.

    Unbelievers also had a say in how many children they would have, or if they wanted any. They had freedoms in their lives we didn’t have.

    You could almost see the Believers being stuck and the Unbelievers being free.

    It all began and ended with my mind.

    When I believed my mind, its thoughts and its beliefs, I gave up my body and my free will. When I didn’t believe, when I became an Unbeliever, I had my freedom back.

    It resembles an addiction in how it takes over your life.

    My mind became addicted to limiting thoughts.

    What is so extremely debilitating is how we are afraid to not believe those thoughts, for those thoughts were taught to us from a very young age.

    The thoughts and beliefs become who we are, and to let them go seems to be killing yourself.

    Being held prisoner in your own life by thoughts is being the jailer and the jailed.

    You have to become an Unbeliever to be set free.

    We were taught; Unbelievers go to Hell, so who wants to be free only to spend eternity in Hell.

    Isn’t there a saying “What is bound on Earth is bound in Heaven”?

    Being bound on earth is how I lived for the first 46 years of my life, being a good Believer of a very mind controlling religion.

    Becoming unbound has been a long process and one that has brought me much peace, love and joy…

    Unbelieving is unraveling the ties that bind.

    Unbelievers live free.

  • Giving up Control

    I thought this blog was over when I had the realization that my daughter had my unconditional love, that when I hopped on the back of “Mr. Heart is as big as a House, that I completed my journey, that all I had to do was ride along, ducking when the shit hit the fan….

    Nope, that isn’t it at all.

    The second part of my ride has just begun.

    I now know where I have been, what techniques I use for love and how and when to apply them, when I take out my tackle box and get busy.

    It is each and every time a mess arrives and IF the mess is in someone’s life I love, well, get the hell out of the way, I am going in.

    I slip off, okay I jump off the motor bike and leave my world behind, I roll up my sleeves pull out my tongue, engage my mental mind and I am in your business up to my neck, and Mr. Big as a House heart rides alone.

    And here’s the deal when I leave Mr. Big Heart, I leave my own heart, my own love and passion and become stuck in the quick sand of your life.

    That is what I do, Miss Mental Lady loves to play in your lives, your world, and moves around and the more she moves the more stuck she gets, it is indeed like quick sand.

    What I need to do most is close my eyes, shut my mouth, and enjoy the ride.

    If I am riding along and holding on and letting the Universe lead, I cannot be responsible, I cannot just jump into lives unasked, unsolicited…oh my God what a meddlesome woman, an unwelcome intrusion.

    How much can you decide if someone is in there deciding it for you? Who needs a mind if my mental mind is coming to your rescue?

    I know that Michael Brown of the Presence process says, “If you pick someone up, when you put them down, you put them back where you found them.”

    While we think we are saving, we are delaying or stealing their lessons.

    My job, my only job as I can see it now is to hold on to my business, my world, my joy, my love, my life and to gracefully sit silently looking upon my daughters and any other.

    I had said to my mother, “Silence is the kindest thing I can offer…” Silence and a loving heart is the best of me I can offer, if my mind gets involved we are off to the races, the struggle of you running your life or me running your life.

    Pick one.

    If I don’t pick running my life, I have learned nothing.

    I am back.

    I am in my business.

    Whew, another close call…

    I am holding on Universe…here we go!

    I keep forgetting I am not driving! UGH…
    Backseat drivers only annoy whose driving.
    It is best to sit back quietly and enjoy the ride.

    The second part of this blog is me learning to walk the walk
    of giving up control…

  • By each Choice we Make.

    Did you know that brainwashing is when you no longer have the option of choice?

    I witnessed my daughter lose her power of choice.

    She didn’t even know she gave up her choices while she attended only one option.

    The one option became the most important, she was willing to lie to protect that option, she was willing to give up her self for that one option, she lost her self by focusing on one choice.

    It soon had control of her and not her of choice.

    This secret life, the clandestine meetings, the specialness of feeling that only the two of them knew, created the one option.

    This one option wasn’t to be shared.

    It was separated from the world.

    It was ‘special’.

    She lost her other choices for none of them were allowed in the ‘special’ spot.

    The special spot and the man who occupied this site began changing her to fit his spot.

    She had to change to play there.

    She couldn’t bring him into her life; she could only go to his.

    This ‘special man’ didn’t fit into her old life; she had to create a new self to fit in his.

    In doing so, she lost the options.

    She lost the freedom, the flowing back and forth between two lives unchanged.

    She had to become different in both worlds.

    In his world, they had to be quiet, keep it secret, don’t let anyone know what it was they were doing, it was the key that turned the lock.

    This twisted sense of special steals away the person you are and you leave your old life and self behind to fit into this new picture, unknowingly.

    You leave yourself bit by bit by bit, until you are fashioned into this new self and the path back to your old self goes dark.

    What my husband and I had to do was let her make choices, to unlock the frozen part in her brain.

    While his key is secret, our key is freedom.

    He had taken away the choices we gave them all back.

    We had to do the opposite of what had led her down this road.

    She gets to make choices.

    We won’t tell her what to do.

    We open up the space for freedom.

    I share my views.

    I show her how I see things.

    I allow her to see them her way.

    What I love is that we remain our selves and that alone will lead her back to her self.

    She left us to play in a secret land we did not leave her.

    So she gets to decide, does she want to play in the secret land or play in our land.

    Does she want to be the person she needs to be to be ‘special’ with him or does she want to be her old self.

    The freedom we allowed was the key that set her free to begin to once again make choices.

    Choices, they seem so obvious so simple so easy, and yet that is what the perpetrator seizes first.

    You are not given an option to do it any other way.

    Their option is the only one that will keep this relationship going.

    You have no choice but to go along.

    And sadly, usually by this time you have become friends, you have given trusts and faith and love to the individual, and in order to maintain this ‘special’ relationship, IT depends upon your silence.

    Your silence and his creates a cocoon that separates you from your self and the world around you.

    You live in this upside down and backwards ‘other’ land.

    You have to change to fit in there and the changes are so noticeable in your old life.

    You have to lie to leave your old life to go to his.

    You have to lie to your self and overlook how it makes you feel in your old life.

    You come alive in his and die in your own.

    What a tragedy.

    The greatest thing we did was to give her back her choices.
    To allow her to choose what path she wants to strengthen and which one she wants to weaken.

    Her brainwashing was in a very short time and she didn’t play in the secret land too long.

    The longer you are there, the more ingrained the false self gets and the further away the road that leads you back.

    But as far as I can tell, by my experience, is that when I gave myself the option of choice, I was free.

    Free to begin, choice-by-choice, bit-by-bit to recapture life for me.

    The freedom in allowing all in our home to be free is the key that makes this a non-brainwashing home.

    A home of choices, you get to decide which ones you want to make, but make no mistake, each and every choice comes with a consequence, and it is up to you which consequence you choose.

    We create a life and self by each choice we make.