I M Perfect lady

Tag: impossible

  • Reposting….Naked and Imperfect.

    Who puts Perfect in us? What makes us Perfect? Who are the Perfect maker people, where do we find them and how does it work?
    And how do we know we need Perfect, how do we know we are missing Perfect?

    It seems that all are seeking Perfect? It seems that it is the prize and I want to know where is the Perfect store, the place where all Perfect is stored, I want to fill up on Perfect, for without it seems we are doomed for failure, failure without Perfect.

    Perfect, boy for such a nice word, it sure causes a hell of a lot of grief, we lose ourselves for it, we cry for it, we die for it, we kill for it, we lie for it, we steal for it, my God, it seems to be a motive for a life of hell.

    And I am not swearing just to be dramatic, I literally mean hell, if you are not Perfect you are in hell. And if you let go of that word, Heaven!
    That now seems mental, and upside down and backwards, for all our lives ever since were little, Perfect was what we wanted.

    Perfect baby, Perfect girl, Perfect mom, Perfect wife, Perfect friend, million and one Perfects! Until Perfect stands before us, always, and not just sometimes, like we can’t see us for the forest of perfects.

    How in the world have we gotten lost behind perfects? Lost behind Perfects, so we are there, just that Perfect is standing in the way?
    Who put it there? How long has it been standing there? And why do we want to hide behind Perfects? Why?

    We hide ourselves behind Perfect, so Perfect is a mask?
    The mask is Perfect? That is the mask? We pretend to be Perfect?
    That doesn’t seem right, but true.

    WE hide behind the Mask of Perfect…so Perfect is not real?
    Perfect is not real? How in the world did we go seeking something that is not real? Not real?

    So what is real? If the mask is pretend, fake, untrue, and it’s name is Perfect, than what does that make us behind the mask of Perfect?
    Just us. Just us being ourselves, what is wrong with ourselves?
    Who told us we could not be ourselves?
    Who wanted us to be different and why?
    Where did this all start, what is wrong with being you?

    Somewhere along the way, we had to hide behind the mask of Perfect, somewhere we had to pretend. Someone didn’t like us as we were, why? What happened that they didn’t want to see?

    It is shocking even as I write this to see that Perfection is a screen to hide behind! I knew I was ok as an imperfect person, but now I am way way way ok!

    For now I know that my mask is no longer needed, for I am ok without it. I stand alone, mask-less and proud.

    Our El Camino has a window sticker “Ride Naked” and I loved that saying from the beginning and now I know what it truly means, ride without a mask! And get this, my license plate says UBEEU, ride naked and you be you….

    When my parent’s masks fell, so did my world, for I was in love with their perfections, not the person behind. Imagine I was in love with a mask. A mask, and I wanted this mask to change, to do this and do that and to love me back. Oh my Goodness this is good.

    No wonder I made sense when their mask fell, for I never fit the mask! My mask.

    A mask of Perfection….that will stay with me awhile.

    Standing here naked and imperfect!

  • Unhappiness wants what is impossible to get.

    “Happiness is a function of accepting what is.”

         ~Werner Erhard

     

    I received a message from an old friend, and he was worried about me being happy, that he was sorry I felt so badly towards my mother, he hoped I would get over it and let go, he also wished me the best and a little peace.

     

    It is hard to explain how I can be happy away from my mother/father/family.

     

    What I have written about most is what was wrong with our relationship, not what was good. 

     

    Ask any divorced women if she is happier away from her ex or in his presence, and that is how a child feels who finally is able to exit a bad family relationship, no matter what age.

     

    My peace inside comes from knowing I have put up boundaries, where I will not be hurt again.

     

    My happiness is by accepting who they are and not expecting something else.

     

    I am not sitting waiting for what they are unable to give.

     

    I had to let go of my image or idea of a father and have accepted that he is sick and is a pedophile; he is unable to be a dad.  Happiness is no longer wanting what he isn’t able to give.  Happiness comes in letting go of the Hallmark picture, and instead seeing what I have.

     

    I had to let go of my thoughts of who my mother was, and had to replace them with reality.

     

    Peace comes in knowing there is nothing I can do to change who they are, but rather change how I react.

     

    Even though much of my writings are struggles to figure out all the nuances of abuse, the traces and hooks that have me mixed up inside, each time I unravel a new strand I am more peaceful.

     

    Writing is my therapy, it allows me to work out what I fail to see, what part of me is still confused, lost and unsure. 

     

    What part of me is still in the illusion of a loving family.

     

    I am not happy until I have full disclosure of what is.

     

    Happiness is being at one with reality.

     

    Unhappiness wants what is impossible to get.