I M Perfect lady

Tag: friends

  • Gaining a friend

    When I began writing, it was all about finding the truth.  I was so lost in knowing what was the truth and what was not…I wrote to find my way. 

    The reasons for this is that speaking the truth is not something that we all do.  Living the truth is for certain what we are not used to.  In fact I feel a flush of shame in speaking the truth.  Isn't that odd???

    You would think that telling lies would have me feeling the heat of getting caught, of being in trouble, and of losing friends…but for telling the truth???

    Even my new young friends have turned away…not because I lie, but because I say what is true for me.

    I don't get this…and yet I do.

    I wasn't taught to tell my truth, feel my truth and certainly not point out or act upon someone else's truth.  In fact telling the truth got me in trouble and was cause for a cold shoulder, annihilation.  And it still remains that way from folks who know, but don't want me to say.

    No one it seemed wanted to wave their truths around.  My father hid his and my mother helped him…and so did I.  It was a given within the family, NoT to talk about it.  To go on and present normal.

    Think about it.  Lies and lies of omission are seen as commonplace. And the truth a shocking attack.  How???

    This is a huge part of the ongoing abuse…what happens to those who speak up…and who point out the discrepancies between what is presented and what happens behind the scenes.  Doors begin to shut…distance opens up, we get pushed away…for telling the truth.

    Only those unhealed in abuse fear the truth.  

    Those who are seeking to be healed, need the truth. The truth is our way out. Untruths will keep you locked in the awkward dance of two lives.

    One where on surface it is a beautiful picture…but the feelings and emotions don't match.

    I used to live there.  I know what it is like to have a life and have feelings that are a complete juxtaposition.  I too used to lie to be normal.  I understand.

    My lies of normal did not make a father…but hid a pedophile.

    My lies supported abuse.

    I no longer can lie.

    I will lose 'friends' but friends don't lie to each other.

    I am sorry…for the potential seems so alive and electric…our similarities so great…and then.

    Then there were big gaps where truth needed to be…and actions taken.  A hole…a space, an opening, a chance, an opportunity to be forthcoming and instead silence screamed out.  Omitting the truth.

    Perhaps my flush of being caught in the truth, is a knowing.  A line in the sand, that separates and divides.

    It isn't so much me and you…but my truth and you from your truth.

    I just keep feeling flung back at the oddness of being caught with the truth and how that feels like I will get in trouble for it.  Striking to say the least.

    It is like I have been taught that telling the truth is as bad as what normal people feel about telling a lie.  Can you see the flip in how I was punished for telling the truth and rewarded and accepted for telling lies.

    It used to be more important to get along and be liked, to not toss rocks of truth into the waters and blink away red flags…but I no longer want to build a life of lies…

    My body doesn't do well knowing one thing, but saying another.  I am no longer capable of remaining silent.  I cannot omit that which I feel.

    And I will lose friends or fail to make some…but a me who lies to be liked will not be liked by me.  My integrity means more than gaining a friend…

    IMG_7410
    A lady who knows her truth…imperfectly.

  • Walks with me in the Dark

    While I was away on a long weekend getaway with my husband, a few comments appeared and a few emails, to the last few posts.

    Here is the deal.  I am only writing about my experience with the people of the FALC, certainly it is not all, but all I knew and each who knew acted the same.  It was like a perfect orchestrated synchronized walk.

    They scored a near perfect ten for keeping in line.

    What I write is my experience and the folks I am writing about are all of the same religion.  They are the ones acting weirdly.

    Here is the other thing, I did have friends (outside of the church) who after reading it in the paper did come up and respond completely the opposite. They did not turn away, but came towards me.

    I can’t help if the poorly acting folks, all happen to be of the same faith, but they are.

    And here is another thing, IF what I write fits you, wear it…if not please let it lie. 

    I am only here reporting things as I encountered them along my journey.  I have yet to meet a full fledge First Apostolic Member who reacted like the folks outside of the church.

    The drastic contrast stands alone…and it isn’t that I am just picking on my friends and acquaintances of that church, but they happen to be outstanding in their consistent response.

    Folks who were not from the inside of the church responded in various ways, listening, hugging, crying, talking in depth, sharing their experiences, and a few cards. 

    What I am mostly shocked about and have separated and explored are the reasons why those who knew me from inside the church turned away.

    They knew me since I was little, we had long history, and they too knew my father and his long history, and yet I immediately became a stranger.

    I didn’t expect folks who didn’t know me on the inside of the church to do anything…

    We expect more from the folks who know us, than we expect from strangers no matter what their religion.

    We have a belief somewhere inside of us about the folks we know, that when the shit hits the fan…they will stand with us.  And I am reporting this odd behavior, like birds all swerving in the same direction, without verbal warning, just an instinctive reaction…adversely to a tragedy.

    Okay, yes…the one phone call reminding me to forgive my father, that it was my job, and that the size of the sin should have no bearings on my task at hand…

    So, I am writing about MY experience with Folks I knew who happened to be members of the same religion and how they happened to respond the same way…This is my experience of the FALC. 

    And, if it fits wear it and explain to me why, and if it doesn’t use my experience as a reminder the next time you hear of the same kind of tragedy.

    And know, the more severe the tragedy, the more the need to step up, step in, bring it up, pat their back, give a hug, send a card, make that difficult phone call.  Be a friend in the dark times…

    As you stand back, they walk alone in their darkest days. 

    And you are sending a message as you turn and walk away…

    Silent is a message.

    I heard your silent message loud and clear. 

    You were a fair weather friend, a surface polite kind, a wave in the good times, a social niceties, a loose bond of similarities of faith, but when the chips were down and the lights went out in my world, the familiar hands were gone.

    What this made me do was to reach out into new areas and reach towards to new friends…and it also gave me great insights into friendships, relationships and how you measure friends more fully in the dark than you do in the light days.

    It is easy to be friends with folks in the good times, but I now know my friends by who walks with me in the dark.

     

  • 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

  • Being imperfect has set me free….

     

    “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”   

               Martin Luther King

     

    ‘…the silence of our friends’… it’s the silence that keeps gnawing at me.  I will get secret messages from family, but not in public, silence, why?

     

    It just dawned on me; it isn’t the silence that’s the problem it’s ME!

     

    It is Me?

     

    I am shocked and amazed that it is Me that keeps them silent, that I am the problem.

     

    I am the one that silences their voices, they don’t want to join theirs with Me.

     

    Me, it’s me…wow.

     

    In a past blog about silence from family, I discovered then that it was easier to be with my father, most actions and words were in support of him, and it is still the same today.

     

    Although I have a few secret members whispering to me, and I did ask them to join me publicly, and all declined.

     

    Declined in fear or in shame of being with me, being seen like me, being grouped with me???

     

    It did feel like I was being denied a friendship…a space remains between us and silence is the wedge that keeps us apart.

     

    At this point I want to acknowledge those of you who bravely stand with me, who are willing and able to raise your voices with mine, to link your names with mine, to publicly be with me as I speak of sexual abuse.

     

    Me a daughter of a pedophile, a victim of abuse, a confused at times, adult woman of incest; that is me!

     

    That is who I am. 

    I can’t change it.

    I am just being myself.

    I am publicly writing about how it is to be an openly abused woman.

     

    I understand your silence now and I honor it.

     

    I M perfect, and it’s impossible not to be.

     

    Being imperfect has set me free…