I M Perfect lady

Tag: lives

  • 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.

  • Recognize the Real Me.

    I wonder why it is so hard to look objectively at your self, why it is so hard to see that which you are. Doesn't it seem literally impossible to overlook yourself while you are being yourself?  Why is it that we can't feel or sense our own powerful energy and it is running within our bodies? 

     

    What I believe to be true is that I was taught to not pay attention to my feelings, to disregard the pulsing emotions, to hide or pay no attention the signals of my body.

     

    In fact, the body was so full of sin, just disregard it completely, or pray hard that you can overcome ITS urges.

     

    I was taught to become the enemy of my body and I did such a wonderful job, I created a life separated from my body.

     

    I never spoke of my bodies signals, the fear that raged or the rage and anger and fear or injustices, the overwhelming immobility of choice, I used my body but never truthfully connected to it.  Well not in words or actions.

    I had a life and my body came along for the ride, but we were each other's enemies.

     

    Its needs and mine were at odds.

     

    What I discovered is that the signals of fear that my body put forth matched the reality of my childhood, compared to the actions that I had displayed.  I acted like nothing had happened…that my father's rape hadn't occurred.  My body however, never, not once forgot. Each and every time I was in his presence, I felt uneasy…pushed back, like an invisible wall arose.

     

    Yet, my actions showed none of that happening in reality.  I pretended to pretend to pretend that all was okay.

     

    What strikes me so is how I was able to NOT join with my body, but to live a life once removed.  That my outward display shown none of the signs from within. 

     

    Like a bad dashboard, all my readings were false.

     

    While I understand in order to survive, I had to have a false dashboard, it now seems totally crazy.  People didn't know me, all they really knew was the false readings I was displaying.  But, underneath a whole different story waited to be told.

     

    The story of the body.  Its emotions and feelings are rarely displayed accurately on people's dashboards, instead we say Yes when we mean No.  We feel its unkind to speak what we feel, not realizing we are disowning our own bodies…creating a chasm that we may or may not get back across.

     

    This space between what we feel and what we say widens each time we speak against our feelings or act in opposition to what we feel. 

     

    My life and my truth were an ocean apart.

     

    The life I was living in comparison to what I was feeling were two distinct drawings…and my feeling inside that I ignored carried my truth…and the false dashboard I presented out of 'kindness' crashed to the ground, for there was nothing holding it up but pretend.

    Pretending that I had different emotions than I did.

    Pretending that I was okay, alright, fine, perfect…

    Pretending overshadowed my truth…until I couldn't recognize the real me. 

     

    (As Alice Miller's book states, "The Body Never Lies.)

     

  • What I can verify.

     

    My brother wrote a post on his blog, www.messyguru.typepad.com called, Rumor Has It.

     

    I looked up the definition of Rumor and it said, “Unverified report.” 

    I wonder how much of each of our lives gets by us unverified?

    What we mostly don’t verify is where we came from, is this normal, and is it true.

    We rarely verify our beliefs or our definitions of love or abuse, or the validity of the rules of our religion.

    We don’t verify them, but we don’t call them rumors. 

    We don’t verify them, but we believe them to be our truths.

    We don’t say, “it is a rumor that wearing red nail polish will keep me from heaven.”  Without verifying this report, we believe it and call it truth.

    Or, “It is a rumor that if I take control of my body and decide how many kids I have, I will go to hell.”  How can you possibly verify that?  Yet it is believed as true.

    And we don’t say, “It is a rumor that no sin is too great to forgive or that all sin is of equal value.”  Has this been verified?  Can a cuss word and a man raping a child be the same worth? Is that what we believe to be true?

    Doesn’t it make you wonder what we call rumors and what we call truth.

    What is verified and what is Unverified.

    Somehow the FALC has this all upside down and backwards.

    If what they believe in is unverified, than is it possible that what they don’t believe in is verifiable.

    Is it possible that when they hear a ‘rumor’ about so and so being a pedophile, or being creepy, they are actually spreading the truth and believing it?

    Do they even know what is truth and what is fiction? 

    This is how I found myself when who I had called dad was actually a pedophile. The people that I loved actually abused me and didn’t love me. I was completely upside down and backwards in most of my definitions and what I believed in.

    The churches ideology actually fit perfect into my backwards home life, it matched perfectly.

    My rumors were my truths and my truths were rumors.

    It is horrifying and shocking what folks in the FALC are believing in and what they are spreading as rumors.  I am here to tell you it is completely backwards.

    The rumors floating around in victim circles are facts and verifiable by the results of their lives. By the trails and trials of their journeys. 

    The suicides and attempts, depression and addictions, the mental disorders, and casual sex, the married girls using their bodies like puppy mills, generations of pedophiles, etc…are all signposts and can be verified by their lives.  These are not rumors.

    And these are not accidents or freaks of nature; they are actually perfect results of living in a home of abuse and believing in the way of the FALC.  It is a one two punch and the results are again, verifiable by the lives they live in reality.

    The victims lives are not rumors…and what you call ‘rumors’ about their perpetrators are verifiable…so they cannot be called rumor, for rumor is an unverified report.

    The wounded children are the verification as they live their lives upside down and backwards, out of control and believing they are certifiably nuts, crazy and insane.

    What they fail to appreciate is that they are perfect and the world they came from is insane.  And it is only when they continue to try and make the insane sane is when they go nuts.

    Where they come from is so insane, that they believe and die for rumors and disregard the truth as it walks talks and breathes in front of them.

    It is my humble opinion from my experience of coming out of the FALC and being raised in a family where the head of the house was a pedophile, where the mother supported him and her religion without question or verification to the contrary, that both are steeped in rumors and where truth is kicked to the curb.

    I should know, I am sitting on the curb for demanding and investigating and Verifying rumors…rumors within my family of origin and the religion I was born into.

    For forty-six years I lived an unverified life.  I believed what I was told to believe and disregarded the rest…now, I sit with rumors and look around reality to see what I can verify. 

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Words to Cover-up.

    Compassion and forgiveness when misused, covers up evil they do not delete it away.

    They become tools that are used to cover up dirt…like putting a pretty blanket over the top will change what lay beneath.

    What happens instead is you now have a dirty blanket too.

    What is so surprising to me is that many cannot see that their acts of forgiveness and compassion are fuel for evil and not only that, leave a stain on your own hands.

    I know that the words seem to have this magical power to make changes in another, but sadly the only one it changes is you.

    You become blind to the real power of evil or maybe blind to the power of truth.

    The power of the truth is often set aside for the comfort and warmth of forgiveness and compassion, and it is much easier applied.

    Kind words are spoken, prayers and intentions are muttered or uttered, words, words, words…a blanket of words.

    A blanket, which covers up the dirt/evil, becomes a veil behind which you see; eventually it is so thick you can’t see yourself.

    Not only is your sight impaired looking outward, but also the vision of your soul is hidden from view.

    In the moment I discovered all that my blanket had covered, I uncovered my soul.

    I sat with a bare soul and a dirty blanket.

    A very dirty blanket, a reality unchanged, actions unstopped, wounds unhealed, sorrows and pain lay in a heap by blanket of useless words.

    Words of morals,
    Words of value,
    Words of piety,
    Words of kindness,
    Words of forgiveness,
    Words upon words upon words…the mighty words had fallen.

    Had bounced off of evil leaving evil unscratched, words just pieces of the alphabet all jumbled up.

    My new definition of forgiveness is once again Martha Beck’s. “Forgiveness is accepting that the past will not change.” And I believe compassion is seeing what is.

    Using words to match the action, like the old sesame song, “two of things belong together, one of these things just doesn’t belong….”

    Reality needs no words to cover-up.