I M Perfect lady

Tag: disease

  • The Shame Lives when we hide it…bravery is born when we don’t!

    We can’t know the obstacle courses another person is navigating in their lives, what sorts of soul wrenching choices they are making, what tricky waters they are navigating by how they present themselves daily, for most often we are taught to ‘put our best face forward’ and not share the nitty and the gritty, the sad and devastating and we have all become masks of covering up.

    How did it become more natural to pretend than to walk in authenticity, like we get points for being the most put together and champions of keeping our ‘messes’ well hidden?

    So that now it seems that a person who speaks their truth and walks it is a phenomena instead of the norm.

    What is it about human nature that we want sunshine and blue skies, peace, love and joy and push back and away from feelings and emotions of great tragedy, yet live it anyway?

    The behind the scenes drama would be better served in front and out loud. To simply present to the world your selves dressed in your dirty laundry and wear it with flare.

    To be as disheveled on the outside as the raging confusion and overwhelming emotions of pain on the inside and for it all to match, instead of primping and struggling to remain perfectly coiffed while totally unraveling.

    It seems we want perfect looking lives whether we live them or not and we will struggle to pull it off, and feel victorious if we can walk around in public hiding our broken insides.

    Imagine the world and how much more relaxed it would be if our insides would appear as accessories, if we were allowed to wear our confusion outside, what great advice would pour our way and how comforting it would be to see that you were not alone.

    And, the greatest news is that the secrets would die for it would be unfashionable to not have colorful deeply intriguing soulful items displayed on your chest.

    Imagine the white blankness of indifference compared to the wildly attractive colors of wrestling with overcoming abuse?

    How nice it would be to get rid of the social presentation and just be our selves…

    What happens with these social masks and if they are good actors, is that you never get to know the real person, just the nice set of clothes that walk around.

    In walking and talking about my ‘dirty’ laundry or my truth, I have had the greatest privilege to hear others real life…they relax and be them selves where the social outside disappears and underneath is this wildly exciting alive soul living life, going through huge lessons of growth and inner knowing.

    Life is lived underneath the perfect faces and put together clothing and if you dare wear your dirty laundry in public you will find others who are eager to do so too.

    My dirtiest of the dirt is that I have a pedophile for a father and once I openly displayed this, owned it, spoke it, I have been free to display other shades of dysfunction as well, and little by little my whole self is allowed to come forth.

    I have become comfortable in my own skin and wear my abuse as a badge of courage not of shame; it’s one of the last diseases that need to be socially acceptable.

    Human nature when its abused creates this, it isn’t a bug, it is spread from family member to family member and I truly believe that the more we talk about this and the more we openly display our abuse, the less power it will have and its insidious spreading will recede.

    Incest is hidden behind nice looking clothes and demeanors, and family’s monsters are protected and made normal so as not to stand out and look odd…and we need to undress this normalcy and own it.

    When we own it we begin treating the root cause…we find the line and the path of destruction and can one by one bring them in the open and see how their abuse affected them.

    Are they still being victims or have they taken over and become what abused them? And we have to recognize that they are acting out perfectly for being abused.

    “Hurt people hurt people.” They are not natural monsters; they became this way coming from whence they came.

    While we can see the wolf in sheep’s clothing, we never treat the wolf we just pet the lamb.

    Petting the monster will not stop the abuse; it is only facing the monster within that we can begin to affect the root cause.

    Undressing and exposing the monster is a step in the right direction.

    Isn’t it funny, but we all know we are petting a lamb with the volatile wolf underneath…yet we are too afraid to know it and speak it and do something about it. It is much easier to pretend it is a lamb the whole way through, even though the wolf fangs are showing and we have bites to prove it…

    I know the cost of not disrobing the wolf…of pretending that he is only a lamb.

    Our children need to know from us adults in the room, that a monster is sitting in their presence and if we treat him like a lamb, so will they.

    It is time we call a spade a spade, a monster a monster and a molested child a molested child. It is time for us to wear our wounds on the outside with courage.

    The shame lives when we hide it…bravery is born when we don’t!

  • A Life Review of Feelings

    While in yoga yesterday, I wondered if the body could express itself without a head, is there a way to vent your feelings below the neck?

    It seems to me that the head holds all the valves of release.

    Our tears are shed through our eyes, our mouths speak words, our beliefs and thoughts either match our feelings or deny them, but all the expressions are done above the neck, yet the feelings seem to be below.

    We feel deeply with our heart, our gut has instincts and intuitively knows, we feel ‘something’ deeply in our bones, and the truth of our experiences seems to reside in the torso.

    Yet the head is where we can articulate what the body feels.

    It is like the head needs to tune into the body, open a line, and form a connection.

    When the two are joined as one, we can live a life that is steered by feelings and emotions allowing us to express specifically our needs, wants and desires.

    Living totally in the head leaves you separated from feelings and emotions.

    I am not certain you can release emotions with out a head.

    The vents are in the head as far as I can tell.

    If a body is detached from the head, it just fills up with unexpressed emotions, which grows into rage, rage that explodes and subsides all without ever delving into their formation. I believe the root of disease.

    A head that is detached from the body, is a senseless head.

    A head that is making choices based on whims of others, for it has no roots, nothing to anchor it down, it is not grounded in feelings or emotions connected to your life, it floats a few feet ahead of your body.

    Amazing to witness this, live this way and then get the opportunity to experience the rejoining of head to body, to feel feelings that have long been stuffed down, to go back in a life review of feelings.

  • In Peace I Lay Down

    As I lay in a floor pose in yoga today, I became aware of the lump in my chest, and I wondered what they would find at my sonogram today.

     

    My doctor thought that perhaps it is an infected milk duct, and I thought while on the floor, how odd that is, since I am not nursing, I wonder how that could happen.

     

    My next thought, what have I been nurturing or holding close like a baby to my chest and what energy is in this area?

     

    The energy in this area is my heart, where I feel my feelings, where I express my self.

     

    My next thought was that I have been holding close to me things that hurt me. 

     

    Holding and wanting to nurture hurtful people, allowing them close into my space, opening my heart, and then getting hurt emotionally when I am misunderstood and once again and set outside.

     

    There is not only an emotional toll, but also a physical toll this is taking on my body.

     

    Today as I lay there I knew I had to let them out of my heart, let go of hanging on and release them…and the line in a hymn came in “God will take care of you…”

     

    In tears and in peace I lay down.

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Upon His Knee.

    It would be nice if it were all lies, just a made up story, a figment of my imagination, as an email suggests.

     

    ‘you are FEEDING your anger with LIES. Just to carry on the hated/evil.’

     

    The lie I told was that my mother stayed in the same house as my father while in Texas, I guess I was wrong.  She was in the same neighborhood, just not the same house.

     

    I don’t know if she spent time with him or seen him or anything, all I knew is her destination was the same as his.  Okay, I get it ….  I was wrong.

     

    I was wrong about that.

     

    Yet what they fail to realize is that I am not looking to be fed, nor am I creating lies to fuel an evil to carry it on, the evil is being carried along by them, not me.

     

    The wonderful technology of Facebook reveals to me in pictures that don’t lie.

     

    My father is posing with his granddaughter, grandson and newest little great granddaughter, with captions of ‘grandpa’.

     

    The sender of the email is standing at his side.

     

    What they fail to notice is that THEY are the ones who allow another little girl in his presence.

     

    I am not the one who is allowing this, but the one who is trying to tell them not to trust this old grandpa man.

     

    I sent an email to the lady of the house where my father lives, informing her that I will be contacting the Family Independence Agency in their town letting them know, a child is in danger.

     

    The family can’t see the danger and while they are blind to it, the danger continues on to another generation, the third. 

     

    I thought they knew who they had in their homes, the picture tells me they have no idea.

     

    They think I am the one, who keeps this sordid tale alive, that I am the creator of this sad little tune, but little do they know; they are the ones who sing the chorus line.

     

    They think I drum up new little lies to keep their world a mess, while they are looking at me, HE is looking at his newest littlest victim, waiting for her to ripen to the perfect little age.

     

    My anger, my hate, my evil they believe I carry is the opposite.  I care enough to try and wake them up.

     

    Hate me, be angry with me, and lose your respect for me that is fine, I will do my best to keep his hands off another little girl.

     

    The picture is the picture of denial.

    Denial is seeing a grandpa where a pedophile stands.

     

    He looks the same.

    Harmless.

    Old.

    Familiar.

    Himself.

     

    What I needed the most way back when, was someone to alert the family, someone to protect me from this man.  I can now be that person to the newest little girl to join our family tree.

     

    I will be the one who tries to stop the spread of his disease from touching her.

     

    Perhaps her grandmother will now take heed, pay attention when it is her first grandchild who sits upon HIS knee.