I M Perfect lady

Tag: line

  • Deviating from What is Standard.

    Our training last night was so revealing to me on so many levels.  

    We do role playing on the phones.  Meaning, a person is the caller and we are the liners (on the crisis line) and we then get a feel for the type of a calls and what is helpful and what is not.

    What came out last night was very interesting.  How as you sit listening, you yourself and your experience history can become a block for the person on the line. Unknowingly, you are not as free to explore their pain.  

    This unconscious belief is there, and it blocks you from moving, and you don't even know it…until it is pointed out.

    As one person is in the hot seat (being a liner) the rest of us are watching.  And being a witness to the call and not on it, you are so wise, for your unconscious issues are not threatened.  

    What I thought about as I was falling to sleep, is that we all can solve issues and problems in anothers life, especially just witnessing it and not being actively engaged in it.  However, become engaged, and your unconscious pain and wounds will not let you respond freely, you will hit a wall.

    You will only explore as far as you yourself have gone…you move up to the wall of uncomfortable, but not beyond it.  And, if you are watching the dialogue, BUT not in it, you are free to explore options, for your own unconsciousness is not engaged.

    But, put yourself into the scene, and you freeze.

    Wildly intriguing to see…and extremely telling in how we operate in life.  Very good at knowing what to do as long as we are not engaged in real life.  

    I can see as a therapist, that they will unknowingly have blocks that will block exits and pathways to healing, depending upon their own life experiences.  

    If you are seeing a therapist and it feels like you are making no progress, IT very well may be because, they can only take you so far.  

    And, it also came to me, that if your support system is all from the same stock, you may just stir the pot, but never find a solution or healing way out.

    I can see I missed my calling or perhaps I am just entering into it.  I thoroughly am engrossed in the how abuse is spoken of, not spoken of, how it manifests in lives, how it is treated, how abused individuals act and how it is best to respond, etc.  

    Widening the circle of understanding the human psyche and how abuse impacts your living and the unconscious beliefs that stunt your growth and turns your life into an anomaly.

    I looked up the word, Anomaly…making sure I had the correct meaning.

    "Something that deviates from what is standard, normal, or expected."

    This anomaly…my father deviating from what is normal, then created in me the same.  I became an anomaly when I didn't act as expected or what is normal or standard.  Meaning, I didn't run screaming and report it.

    However, I do have this one memory that I did tell…well, I showed, my private parts to my mother in severe pain…And she deviated from what was standard, normal or expected.  Nothing was done.  She didn't leave my father or bring him to the court of the land.  When they didn't act as expected, I learned that in our home, our normal was to act different from the standards or what is expected.

    It wasn't that the child didn't act normal, she did, but she witnessed how abuse was dealt with, how others responded.  They didn't act like she did…while her alarm screamed in pain, they were the opposite.  No reaction.

    It is this non-reaction that we notice.  That it is our three alarm fire, not theirs.  We are acting incorrectly. When my mother didn't respond in kind, I had to as a child read the message that all was okay.  No reason for panic.  Settle down, it is all right.

    Her deviation from a standard mother's response, is all it took for me to take cues in how to react to abusive behavior…calmly as if it is okay…no more than a scrapped knee.  

    Her reactions programmed mine.

    This anomaly is the set point for our family…deviating from what is standard.



  • The Story of Becoming Me

    In reading the comments on the Extoots Blog, I marvel at the secrecy and how they hide their identities…while commenting freely about their religion; either why they stay or why they left.

    It is like they are talking about a government that will harm them IF they are found to be in noncompliance…or plotting to leave is punishable.  

    How is this a free religion when fear is so instilled in grown adults…where they are able to vote, drive and drink…but God forbid they speak up about a religion, so they leave their names out.

    It continues to shock me….but not surprise me. 

    Fear is what keeps them hiding their true identity….like criminals almost.  Or folks on TV, who, out of fear, distort their images and voices.  

    Isn't it odd that fear is the overlying sentiment and not enthusiasm for finding a new pathway, a truer life for themselves…or being so happy within their religion.

    I can respect their wishes, but if they only knew how self defeating it is to hide their truths.  

    By standing up and saying their names and standing with the truth of why they left or why they remain inside is very powerful.  

    It isn't about the religion itself, but the power of being proud of who you are.

    I don't know if it is like this when you leave all churches, but it sure seems that there are many people who are not willing to openly admit that they are no longer members of the FALC church and why….let alone speak it using their real names.

    However, I recall knowing I no longer matched the religion and wondered how I would tell my mother, how I would leave and what it would mean to my children to stop going. Funny, but sad…the reasons had nothing to do about me, but more to do about the folks around me.

    Once the investigation about my father happened, the door swung open easily…I didn't stay for others, I left for me.

    I didn't hesitate.  I didn't hide.  I left with the fullest of understanding, what I was leaving…even if I had no idea where I was going or where I would end up.  It didn't matter what others thought or said.  I followed my inner voice, my guts, my feelings and never, not once, have ever looked back with regret.

    How can I regret being Me?  

    How can I regret my truth?

    What I know for sure, is that you can't know what freedom is, until you have experienced being controlled.

    You could say, that religion brought me to freedom. 

    Just as living in a dysfunctional family brought me to know what love and wholeness was…I had to first learn what it was not.  

    Loving that I don't have to live anonymously!  I love that I get to live fully exposed as Me!  There is no part of me I want to hide…

    IMG_3173
    Part of My Story Line Quilts….the story of becoming Me!

  • Agree With the Line.

    I finished listening to the Book "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett while I sewed yesterday afternoon.  

    The CD describes it as such;

    "Three ordinary women are about to take one extraordinary step…

    In 1962 Jackson Mississippi, two African American maids and one white Junior League socialite- seemingly as different from one another as can be, will nonetheless come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk. And why?  Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed."

    "In pitch-perfect voices, Kathryn Stockett creates three memorable women whose determination to start a movement of their own forever changes a town, and the way women – mother's, daughters, caregivers, friends – view one another.  A deeply moving novel filled with poignancy, humor and hope.  "The Help" is a timeless universal story about the lines we abide by and the ones we don't."

    I had read this book, watched the movie and then listened to it…all three times I was drawn to the courage it takes to step over the line.

    Stepping over the line, isn't done lightly or without great personal risks and consequences, and yet if someone doesn't take a chance, speak out and dare show the wrongness, change doesn't happen.

    Towards the end, the white character muses…"I may not have changed their minds… But at least I no longer agree with them." Speaking about her socialite friends.

    She had broken out of a system that had been put into place long before her birth, one she had grown up in…and dared to explore and see it from all angles.  Willing to see the wrongness of her people…

    It came with a personal cost, she lost friends and love, but gained personal strength and courage.

    I totally understand her dilemma…of stepping over the line, knowing you are stepping out of the life you have…into the unknown.

    Stepping over the line is what has allowed us as a species to evolve…if we all stayed behind the line, no change would occur.

    Once one takes a step, another will follow.

    The lines are drawn often with the mindset or understanding at the time, and progress happens when someone dares to argue with the line.

    I see one very entrenched line that is holding its ground and only a few dare to step over it and walk away…and that is the parental line.

    When you cross this line, your life will change.

    Most parents do not want their lines crossed…especially abusive parents.

    The treatment of the children in these homes is similar to the African Americans…for they are not allowed to have a voice, to speak about how the treatment feels on their end.  They are to serve the family in silence, bowing down to the heads of the households…a second class member…They are lower down on the totem pole, only those up higher can have their say, speak their minds and share how it feels…and enforce it.  Disregarding your vote without an election.

    This is the way of it, the line is not to be crossed…it stays firm until their death.  Their feelings are to be considered at all times…and perhaps even posthumously.

    At no point is a child to go against what the parent feels, thinks and believes, or they will be crossing the line…and stepping out of the family.

    I would love to see a revolution within abusive homes.  Of voiceless, choice-less children walking free.  Marching for the right to stand up. Shedding the cloak of secrecy that keeps their parents reputations clean in the social world…while the child remains in the silent darkness of abuse.  A flipping of the tables…

    Fear is what keeps most from stepping up to the line.

    The fear is as palpital as the ones the maids had. They had lived in fear of the white folks for so long, it never crossed their minds to speak up, even anonymously.

    Some may say, they 'respect' their parents too much to speak out…but respect doesn't keep you silent, fear does.

    Fear of stepping over this invisible line that has been there since you were little.  Fear keeps you on your side of the line…as it always has. 

    In life, there are always lines…and you will define yourself by the ones you abide by and the ones you don't.

    You have to wonder about lines and who they serve and why.

    And depending upon which side of the line you are, that line will represent two drastically different views.

    Look at the line of silence in abuse…see clearly how it divides and makes one a victim.  One of lesser value…and one more powerful.

    Abiding the line, you are agreeing with the imbalance.

    What I too truly love, is that I may not be able to change your mind, but I love that I no longer have to agree with the line.