I M Perfect lady

Tag: hurt

  • Acknowledgement of Hurting.

    "Unintended hurt is as common as branches snapped in wind. But it is the unacknowledged hurt that becomes a wound."  Mark Nepo

    I believe we all will hurt others and be hurt…as long as we are living and in relationships.  It is the unacknowledged hurt that wounds us.

    "Even if our awareness of being hurtful comes years after delivering the hurt, the smallest word or gesture – owning what we've done – can reopen the heart."  Mark Nepo

    I was sexually abused as a child, but no one ever acknowledged that they hurt me.  It is the unacknowledged hurt that wounded me.

    Even when it all came to light 40 years later, silence stood in the place of acknowledgement.

    I have often felt it wasn't enough to acknowledge how I mistreated and hurt my children with my angry words and general dysfunctional mothering…this lesson today has shown me, that in owning how I hurt them, began the closing of the wound and opening of our hearts.

    This is the opening I was waiting to enter…the acknowledgement of the pain they caused me…would have allowed my heart to reopen.  

    That is the difference, the dividing factor between estrangement and growing closer…Acknowledgement of hurting.

     

  • I Run, Because you can’t.

    “There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way and not starting.”
    Buddha

    I felt the loneliness today of my Aunt who ran away. A woman I never met, yet I feel we are one.

    I felt her sadness of being misunderstood and unknown, how her choice to save herself, sentenced her to a life alone outside of her family.

    Ostracized for escaping, for saving ourselves, for walking free of abuse, we are not cheered, no clapping instead we are jeered with sarcasm.

    I never ever thought my harshest critics would be from my own family, they are forever punching the already weakened psyche.

    The Little girl within feels so sad, empty of words to make them see.

    Today I wondered about my Aunt and her life, how she survived without contact from her family, yet like me the family she missed is the same one that brings her pain.

    The intellectual part of me understands that the energy they bring me isn’t healthy, but my heart yearns for acceptance, for understanding and even empathy.

    Like missing the stick that is poking you in the eye.

    I have more empathy for folks who are set aside because of who they are, parts of themselves they cannot change.

    Maybe because my Aunt disappeared and no one spoke her name that I want there to be words about me.

    Perhaps this blog is a way that I too will not just simply disappear without a trace. (www.imperfectlady.typepad.com)

    In the first few days of my father being accused of criminal sexual conduct, I wrote.

    I wrote in disbelief, I wrote the words to anchor myself somewhere, to hold me in the sea of grief.

    Writing is evidence of my journey.

    I have kept all written communications from my family as evidence. I know that is an odd word to use.

    It was the evidence I needed to sort out which one of us was in reality and which one wasn’t.

    My mental mind fought a long hard battle up against reality and in reality there are written words from a family who is not cheering me.

    In as much as I want them to be cheering, what I needed more were their words of mental ness to shine the way out.

    Maybe in the end their shouts of sarcasm are cheering me forward.

    They are showing me there is nothing for me back there.
    They were showing me how not to be.
    Showing me how far I have come.

    I feel the energy of my runaway aunt; she joins me in spirit as I run along, lending me her courage and strength. I feel the spirit of many little girls whose time ran out, who were too empty to begin, I run for you.

    I run towards wholeness with truth at my side.
    I feel you with me as I run.

    The refrain “you are the wind beneath my wings” came to mind.

    I am so grateful I was able to run away.
    I am so not alone.
    All little girls everywhere who suffered like I, I run for you.
    I run, because you can’t.

  • Tamper with Reality.

    I was asked after my last blog, if others will think I am crazy, and perhaps they will. However, unless you have lived a life deeply in denial where your head view of life is not what is actually going on, where you body is experiencing one thing and you are telling yourself something totally different, you will not get my post, my blog or my experiences.

    What I feel happened to me was that when I found out my father was a pedophile my body’s feelings made sense, although in my head there was no evidence of it.

    The totally extreme opposites of what I thought life was compared to what it really was was mind blowing.

    It blew all my beliefs, thoughts and views to pieces and I was left with a head that had to relearn how to see reality.

    I taught my head by how my body felt, instead of allowing it access to create a scenario that opposed reality.

    If I sound crazy, well that is okay for I was for 46 years, and it is crazy to go back and discover the way I was formed, how my mind made things up, how it was detached, how it and my body saw life drastically different.

    I feel that the root of all madness or insanity is to live a life where the mind and body are not aligned.

    In cases of child abuse or where the adult says one thing but does another, is where insanity or madness begins.

    Love hurts is an example.
    Relying on someone who repeatedly lets you down.
    Where we are unable to put up boundaries we then make up stories to live with instead.

    So much so, that we live in an alternative reality.

    If at anytime you let your feelings down, by not voicing them, by fooling your self that you don’t feel what you feel, you are dabbling in insanity.

    What I learned most in these 6 years, is that I not only have the right, it is best if I walk hand and hand with my feelings, and my thoughts and beliefs will follow.

    I have learned that by watching actions and feeling the sensations in my body, I can navigate myself in reality and be authentic in words, thoughts, feelings and actions, we all agree.

    Sanity does not have to pretend a feeling doesn’t exist.

    What some call social niceties are close to insane allowances, pretending to pretend not to see/feel/know what you know.

    I again feel that some of what we call ‘Mentally Handicapped’, are actually more sane than most, for they don’t seem to have the flipping switch to pretend.

    They call life as they see it, as do little children, they are not looking to spare another’s feelings; they are just calling it like it is.

    Sparing another’s feelings by making up a lie…just seems odd to me, are we not making up a new reality?

    Anyway, call me crazy I don’t mind, but I am no longer interested in sparing someone’s feelings.

    I spared my father, I didn’t want to disappoint him, to make him unhappy, and look where it led?

    I would rather hurt your feelings than tamper with reality.

  • Your love inside.

    It came to me while doing yoga, that the only way you can feel sad, hurt, upset is when you lose your power of your love, peace and joy.

    So, you are either living in your love, your peace or your joy….or our sad because you lost your way.

    You forgot to remember that it is your voice that needs to speak up about what you feel, that you are in charge of your feelings.

    When you are feeling sad, hurt, lonely, etc, that means you lost your being in charge button, you silenced your voice, you pretended not to notice your love, peace and joy slipping away.

    I love this.

    I love that feeling sad, hurt, confused are just sign posts letting you know, ooops you lost love, or joy or peace and they are loud shouting voices informing you of such.

    I will now welcome the feelings of sadness, for they are really angels bearing gifts of letting me know I am doing something that leads me away from love, peace and joy.

    Feeling hurt is feeling the absence of your love inside.

  • “With Love always mom”

    As I began my workday yesterday morning, I am in high spirits using all my efforts to stay positive with the large volume of mail, willing myself not to get weighed down by the load.

    I am happy to start sorting letters, the tray is filled with colorful envelopes, and a gold one sits in front.

    As I pick it up, my eyes focus in on the familiar name, mine, and the handwriting is hers.

    My high spirits escape in one breath.

    The restraining letter meant nothing to her.

    The weight of the mail meant nothing compared to the heavy heart of disappointment.

    She did not honor me.

    I tossed it into my home slot, and continued on for a minute or two, and then the not knowing was too much of a distraction, so I stopped, opened it up and read.

    “Noel” is printed in fancy letters on the front, and inside the card’s message, “Wishing you peace, love and joy this Holiday Season,” and her added line, “With love always, Mom and Gramma.”

    It is ironic that what I need for peace, love and joy is for her to honor me, and yet she stomps down upon the restraining letter I sent and sends her usual card.

    Her love always is one that disregards my needs, my wishes, and me.

    I am not seen at all, as she continues on, her stride unbroken by my restraining letter to her.

    My last written words to her, my first in 6 years, was a plea for space, for her to honor and respect our silence…

    My last line was, “If you fail to honor our separation as it is, you are deliberately seeking to disrespect and hurt me; I will take it as such.”

    Her love comes in with disrespect and hurt.

    I felt it as I stood there in a mountain of mail holding a card that yet again doesn’t see me.

    Feeling abused on the inside, my feelings tore up, I tossed it back in my slot, and tried to gather myself back together to continue on.

    Her failure of honoring my words should not be a surprise, yet I guess I am the ultimate believer.

    Believing that one day she will see me, even as sit behind a wall of restraining words, that she will hear them and see me.

    See me telling her, you hurt and disrespect me.

    My words to her fall upon deaf ears.

    It’s like my needs were never written.

    Like a bad energizer bunny she keeps going and going and going.

    Her blind bullheadedness is abuse.

    She is bullying me.

    With words of love.

    Love that knows no boundaries.

    Love that doesn’t hear.

    Love of a bully.

    A one-sided affair.

    Being bullied by words of peace, love and joy.

    The juxtaposition, a card of noel, a Christmas song…carrying the tune she has always sung.

    Actions of hurt and disrespect signed, “with love always mom.