I M Perfect lady

Tag: masks

  • Mask of High Morals.

    When I looked up the meaning of Evil it said “profoundly immoral or wrong.” And when I looked up the word Immoral it said ”contrary to accepted moral principles.”

    And, Moral is defined as “relating to issues of right and wrong” or “derived from personal conscience: based on what somebody’s conscience suggests is right or wrong, rather than on what rules or the law says should be done.”

    So evil is breaking the moral code.

    What happens in a family where the moral code is twisted, if right is wrong and wrong is right?

    When a child breaks that code, instead of being right, the family actually sees them as evil, for they broke the family’s moral code.

    I am surprised that evil is actually defined more by morals or immoral behavior than actual rules and laws.

    Discerning evil is harder when what you call normal is evil and good is a foreign concept.

    Evil is actually only a personal affront to your own morals. And the morals are personal to you.

    Morals, “according to common standard of justice: regarded in terms of what is known to be right or just, as opposed to what is officially or outwardly declared to be right or just.”

    What is known to be right or just, not what is an official right or wrong.

    My teachings of evil or my awareness of morals were defined by my parents and my mother’s religion, the churches conscience was my mothers.

    Evil is going against the morals…and if the morals themselves are evil, then what?

    Raised in a vaccum of evil morals all good becomes evil.

    Imagine living up to evil morals…where the gold standard is far beneath its value, where bad is seen as good and good bad.

    It seem perposterous, incredibly insane, to not recognize evil, the evil of the norm. But when your evil was defined by a limited cult of religious fanatics, you are then raised to see anything outside the walls of the churches morals to be wrong.

    The church wore a mask of high morals.

  • 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!

  • Reality

    Names.  What does a name mean?  You call someone by their name, or even by their title.  What does that mean?  What does that really tell you about a person, and what does it cover up?

    A name covers things up? That seems weird?  Can you hide behind a name?  Can you use it as a mask?  What does a Mask cover?  How do you know there is a mask, can you ask, can you peek, will they tell you? Do other adults warn you?

    In the Native American way, they name people, such as Run Fast.

    And you could pretty much know what that person was Know for.  They don’t have names like Slow Walker for someone who runs fast.  And I wonder if they ever name the baby wrong and have a new renaming ceremony.

    When my son was little, he and his cousin seen a huge man trying to wiggle into a booth at Burger King….and they both were amazed and said “do you think he will fit?” of course in a voice that carried far and wide!  As a mom, my first instinct is to protect the Man and tell the boys, you don’t say that, and in fact I did. I also remember these big brown eyes look at me and say plainly, Why?  It seemed goofy to them?

    Think of how we go around and label things correctly for them.

    A tree.  The sun. A house.  The easy and plain things, but get us into an area we feel uncomfortable in….and we start to disguise, twist, sortakinda name it.  Hoping that they will not discover our lies.

    Now bring this into abuse? 

    What I would like to see is the opposite happening and teach all children to be ok with proper naming of actions….sorta like the Native Americans.  Or see all adults being true.

    Maybe in one day a person gets many names.

    In the past four years, I began noticing I no longer called or seen myself as just one role, mom.

    I would say “cooker girl”…when cooking.

    I called myself by what I was doing, not who I was.

    It sounded almost childlike, but I couldn’t stop myself.

    If you go to www.messyguru.typepad.com you can see what I mean.

    However, I will warn you right now, this is a dialogue between an abused boy and what he calls his editor.

    The editor is the one who refused to see what is, now and back then.

    Maybe you could also call him, Mr. Denial.

    It is with the greatest respect that I enter his site. 

    He and I are very much the opposites. While he remembered everything, my mind forgot it all. 

    I was literally blasted into reality with a mind full of wrong information.  It seemed a Mental Lady in reality for so much I had wrong.

    Abuse lives in the mind.

    The body holds the truth, but the mind controls our lives.

    An abused mind is the hardest thing to make right.

    I had said, “It is literally like being lost, trying to find yourself and you don’t even know your missing, or what in the Hell you look like. “   Where do you begin?

    The courage it takes to willingly go into a mental mind and sort things out, is an adventure I wouldn’t wish on a soul. 

    The greatest tool an abused person has is REALITY, Period.

    Without reality we are lost forever.

    We must go back to the seed of the abuse to see where we got it wrong and speak to denial to get it right, to argue to challenge to use our grownup big words this time.  For when the initial abuse happened, you can be sure we were left alone in our minds without adult supervision.

    Reality what a Blessed place to be!

    Reality or Denial, Pick one.

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