I M Perfect lady

Tag: relationships

  • I answer…

    The faint lines between your business and mine oftentimes blur when it contains the life of you my child, when you bring into my life energies that affect me.

    It is crucial to separate and to focus on what is my business and at the same time hand back to you yours.

    While I can’t change your behaviors and don’t want them to change for me, I do want to maintain the integrity of our relationship.

    There has been a breach and I feel it is only right for me to state how it makes me feel.

    It isn’t up to me to change you, but I feel it is only right to state how it will affect the you and me.

    The relationship we had previous didn’t have lies, it didn’t have secrets, it had integrity and character, and I am unsure what this will mean to us in the long run to have this vein running through us, it seems to weaken the us.

    Inside of our relationship you have brought changes that will define our future, changes that I accept or decline.

    What happens if I accept that lying is an okay part of our relationship?

    What happens if secrets are okay?

    Who then do we become?

    Are we not just playacting a good relationship?
    Not only is the relationship with self in jeopardy but each relationship you have, for in every relationship you bring you.

    If you treat your self less, we all feel the less of who you are in our relationship.

    The light goes out, the feelings are dim, and we feel that.

    To me the second part of any relationship is to say what you need to say, to speak how the actions are affecting you, letting the other know how you feel.

    The relationship dance is twofold; no one gets to have more power.

    Each of us owns a set of feelings and a voice, it is up to us to express and share.

    My business is to share my feelings or hide them, to speak up or sit silently, to show her how my feelings are changing.

    She changes and I change.

    We are separated but move in the dance of life together as long as we have a relationship.

    We relate to each other.

    When you do lie I feel lied to.
    When you do something loving, I feel love.

    We are readers of each other, what you give to me I take in its full integrity, I no longer change it, but accept it as it is given.

    Your actions come across to me clearly, I read you like a book, there is no mistaking their meanings, what you are doing is speaking to me loud and clear, I am just echoing back how it feels to be on the receiving end.

    That is my business.

    I tell you how I feel.

    Your lies to me are lies about your self.
    You are trying not to show me who you are.
    I see behind the lies, I watch the actions; the wordy lies fall empty at my feet.

    Our relationship is only as good as the two people in it.

    You bring you and I bring me.

    We dance as one from there.
    You step and I counter step, you speak and I answer…

  • By each Choice we Make.

    Did you know that brainwashing is when you no longer have the option of choice?

    I witnessed my daughter lose her power of choice.

    She didn’t even know she gave up her choices while she attended only one option.

    The one option became the most important, she was willing to lie to protect that option, she was willing to give up her self for that one option, she lost her self by focusing on one choice.

    It soon had control of her and not her of choice.

    This secret life, the clandestine meetings, the specialness of feeling that only the two of them knew, created the one option.

    This one option wasn’t to be shared.

    It was separated from the world.

    It was ‘special’.

    She lost her other choices for none of them were allowed in the ‘special’ spot.

    The special spot and the man who occupied this site began changing her to fit his spot.

    She had to change to play there.

    She couldn’t bring him into her life; she could only go to his.

    This ‘special man’ didn’t fit into her old life; she had to create a new self to fit in his.

    In doing so, she lost the options.

    She lost the freedom, the flowing back and forth between two lives unchanged.

    She had to become different in both worlds.

    In his world, they had to be quiet, keep it secret, don’t let anyone know what it was they were doing, it was the key that turned the lock.

    This twisted sense of special steals away the person you are and you leave your old life and self behind to fit into this new picture, unknowingly.

    You leave yourself bit by bit by bit, until you are fashioned into this new self and the path back to your old self goes dark.

    What my husband and I had to do was let her make choices, to unlock the frozen part in her brain.

    While his key is secret, our key is freedom.

    He had taken away the choices we gave them all back.

    We had to do the opposite of what had led her down this road.

    She gets to make choices.

    We won’t tell her what to do.

    We open up the space for freedom.

    I share my views.

    I show her how I see things.

    I allow her to see them her way.

    What I love is that we remain our selves and that alone will lead her back to her self.

    She left us to play in a secret land we did not leave her.

    So she gets to decide, does she want to play in the secret land or play in our land.

    Does she want to be the person she needs to be to be ‘special’ with him or does she want to be her old self.

    The freedom we allowed was the key that set her free to begin to once again make choices.

    Choices, they seem so obvious so simple so easy, and yet that is what the perpetrator seizes first.

    You are not given an option to do it any other way.

    Their option is the only one that will keep this relationship going.

    You have no choice but to go along.

    And sadly, usually by this time you have become friends, you have given trusts and faith and love to the individual, and in order to maintain this ‘special’ relationship, IT depends upon your silence.

    Your silence and his creates a cocoon that separates you from your self and the world around you.

    You live in this upside down and backwards ‘other’ land.

    You have to change to fit in there and the changes are so noticeable in your old life.

    You have to lie to leave your old life to go to his.

    You have to lie to your self and overlook how it makes you feel in your old life.

    You come alive in his and die in your own.

    What a tragedy.

    The greatest thing we did was to give her back her choices.
    To allow her to choose what path she wants to strengthen and which one she wants to weaken.

    Her brainwashing was in a very short time and she didn’t play in the secret land too long.

    The longer you are there, the more ingrained the false self gets and the further away the road that leads you back.

    But as far as I can tell, by my experience, is that when I gave myself the option of choice, I was free.

    Free to begin, choice-by-choice, bit-by-bit to recapture life for me.

    The freedom in allowing all in our home to be free is the key that makes this a non-brainwashing home.

    A home of choices, you get to decide which ones you want to make, but make no mistake, each and every choice comes with a consequence, and it is up to you which consequence you choose.

    We create a life and self by each choice we make.

  • I am Way beyond Okay!

    I often wondered if my clarity was clear enough, if my love was loving enough, if my wisdom was wise enough, if I had healed enough to be in a relationship where I didn’t contaminate the other with my old dysfunctional love.

    And in the past few days, I have been given the opportunity to see and feel the affects of who I am and where I was and how much I have changed.

    The greatest gift I have to offer my daughter who was abused by this man, is to see her bathed in a sea of Innocence so bright it hurts your eyes.

    We had a visit her and I last night, and she tried very hard to get me to see her in a new light, a dimmer light, a dark, guilty blaming shaming light, I simply could not go there.

    I tried. I listened and I followed the trail she walked, I looked around and there was no shame, blame or guilt that I could see.

    We even tried role reversal where I could be her and she could be me, and still nothing changed within me, instead she even appeared more innocent.

    She asked if I would speak to “the Man” and I said I wasn’t really interested, I only cared to speak to her.

    She wanted me to see how she carried half of the weight of this encounter, I just couldn’t reach that same percentage, damn, she always came up short.

    I tried.

    I tried to see her as clear as possible and I tried to see her through her own eyes, and still I came up short.

    The scales were simply unbalanced.

    He was married, she was not.
    He had children, she did not.
    He has experience with relationships with the opposite sex, she did not.
    He was her boss and her elder, she was not.

    So we then tried to see if they matched equally in what they each brought to this new friendship.

    She brought a past reputation of killing one chicken when she was near 5 years old when she accidentally dropped a water container on a little chick and he died. And she had written a letter of apology to her father stating her truth and how sorry she was.

    She also had stolen a cookie and ate it. A cookie that was for a bake sale, she took and didn’t pay for it. This had her crying uncontrollably on the top bunk she still sleeps on. Those were the two blackest marks on her reputation that we could find.

    She said she wasn’t perfect, that she has other things she has done. I said great, give me what you have so we can balance this scale.

    I asked if she had a husband I didn’t know about.
    Nope, none.

    I asked if she had a few kids off to the side somewhere, and nope that wasn’t true.

    I asked if she had experience with men that I was unaware of, and nope she had none.

    We searched her and I for things to put on the scale to make it more even, so she could carry equal weight, for this to not be so lopsided, and nothing could we drag up besides one dead chick and a stolen cookie.

    It just seemed incredible that one young lady of 20 years old had so little to add.

    I told her I would give her a few points for each.

    And now lets look at what He brought.

    She said we didn’t need to do that.

    We didn’t.

    What is so strikingly stunning is in this case, there literally is a girl with the past of one accidentally killed chick and one ‘stolen’ cookie standing up against a man who cheated on his wife, who single handedly change her from a chicken killing thief to being seen by our little community into a soiled dove.

    A dove whose wings were clipped before she even had a chance to use them.

    Her Lilly white reputation is laying on the ground in a dirty mess; she simply did not have the experience to match this man.

    Nothing in her past prepared her for this.

    She unwittingly followed where he led.

    It is an unknown as to what would have happened if the wife didn’t find the text he sent to my daughter, asking her if she could talk.
    How far would he have gone?
    How far would she have followed?

    I am so grateful it was stopped when it was.

    That now, added to the list of chicken killing cookie thief, we have a girl who listened to a married man.

    She listened with compassion, with kindness, with trust, while going against what her inside told her.

    And when it was discovered that they were caught, she literally faced the wife, face-to-face, eye-to-eye, woman-to-girl, and said how sorry she was, how she felt, and owned up to her part.

    What more could a mother ask for?

    She faced in truth and felt the weight of her actions and admitted her part, fully owing that and more.

    Being so forthright, so bold to stand in the truth makes her a very poor ‘other woman’.

    In her innocence, she felt that by meeting them with openness and admitting her part, that perhaps, they would give her the same courtesy, it was denied.

    She didn’t get back once again, what she gave to them.

    Instead the wife threw the first ball to smear her reputation, the first glob of mud landed within the hour of my daughter leaving her home.

    Ugly accusations were posted on her facebook wall.

    No matter how kind, how loving, how remorseful, how sorry, how caring, how trusting she is, they fail to see it, and instead of just the husband soiling her, now the wife has joined his team.

    My little girl wanted me to speak to him…oh honey, I have nothing to say to him.

    Silence is the only kindness I can offer.

    My ears are for her.
    My eyes for her.
    My hand for her.

    All I have to give is for her.

    There is no part of me that is interested in what he has to say, what he wants to show me…nothing.

    I will stand with innocence.
    I will walk with my daughter, head held high while they lob dirt upon us, while they label us, and shout unkind things behind our backs, I will continue to walk forward.

    I have no time to give for the reasons they are doing these unkind things, it matters not.

    The only thing that matters in all of this is her.

    Oh, the easy job I have, to be with her innocence.
    How wonderful it is to sit with her and share this spot.

    It matters not rats ass, what ‘others’ say about her, no one can change my mind, weaken my stance, shake my firm ground, I know who my daughter is.

    She is a chicken killing, cookie stealing girl who listened and followed a married man as he walked her down the trail away from her innocent self.

    She has two choices to pick from, a life with him or one without.

    We can’t make the choices for her, all we can do is sit back and let her decide, which home, his or ours makes her feel her brightest.

    Which man in her life, her father or this man make her feel special and loved?

    Which woman, his wife or I, honor her truth?

    The choice seems simple on my side, but I understand how you can get flipped upside down and backwards in abuse.

    So, I am here to be her clarity as my wise brother suggested I do.

    I will listen as she struggles in finding her balance again.

    She knows what she lost inside, she knows she has work to do to get it back, and she has the perfect environment to do this.

    I no longer question my clarity, my wisdom or my love.

    I am way beyond okay!

  • Supporting only what exists.

    Yesterday I was left with the line, “believing in something that doesn’t exist,” and it showed me the other person in the lie.

    We tend to blame the liars, but fail to point out the person who is holding it up, who is believing it, and in doing so denying the truth as well.

    I can now see the liar and the lie holder and the lie.

    It takes more than one to lie.

    The lie is a cover-up to a truth that came in that will shatter the relationship.

    Usually the one bringing in the lie is the one that has damaged the relationship.

    The one holding up the lie wants the relationship more than the truth so she will willingly carry what ever needs to be carried in order to save a relationship.

    Isn’t it funny how we become lie carriers, how we carry the lie further for the sake of a relationship.

    She is the disaster team coming in and saving the day. Little does she know all she is saving is the lie.

    All her work from that day forward is to maintain the lie.

    Her main focus is to keep the lie alive, hence believing in something that doesn’t exist.

    I can see how my mother began this game and then eventually include us, how we too learned it was more important to have relationships than seeing truth in behaviors.

    We too believed in something that didn’t exist.

    What is so tragic to me is that we can live a lifetime lost in lies.

    That we will deny our feelings, what our bodies are saying, how we are feeling all to keep a lie alive.

    Six years ago I felt that my pretend to pretend button broke, that I lost the ability to go along with the lies, that something changed, I could not knowingly support lies.

    What is so odd is that when you are born into a family of pretenders, pretending is a way of life, we rarely if ever speak our truth or we have to do so on the side and in hiding.

    Speaking about them behind their backs, saying the truths secretly.

    I am not sure where social niceties begin and lying starts, but the lines get kind of fuzzy.

    I heard Oprah speak to a man on stage stating, “go ahead speak your truth it will open the door for others to do the same.”

    Isn’t it odd that we rarely see someone stand exposing their truths, but rather we live outwardly pretending a life based on lies?

    This double life is what screws with people’s heads and the cause of much disease.

    My body feels so at peace now and when it isn’t I look at what I am lying about.

    What am I pretending?

    Where am I outside of reality?

    Am I the liar or am I believing in a lie.

    Getting my life back from the pretend world hasn’t been easy, I lost a lot of pretend relationships that I loved and supported, but in doing so I began a new relationship with myself.

    Supporting only what exists.

  • I feel Solo

    As I look at my self in my life today, I am so much freer than I would have ever dreamed possible.

    While I live in the same house, married to the same man, and still have four children with me, I am no longer chained by their behavior…well okay, I still get stuck for a half hour or so, but I can usually set myself free.

    Dr. Berman spoke of the triangle affect, where relationships get stuck when couples move from one corner to the next exchanging roles and manipulating feelings.

    I lived on that triangle for years and years, and I was the master at being a hero and dabbled in the victim villain roles pretty often as well.

    On the triangle you are never in control of your feelings, somebody owns yours and you own anothers, we forever go around making other people feel and feeling how other people make us…never free to feel by yourself.

    If your not moving feelings around, there is the spot of hero, where you literally take over the responsibility of another’s life, where you come in and save the day, allowing them to miss a lesson to grow and learn by experience.

    This triangle is dysfunction and it leaves you separated from your feelings, where you are forever at the mercy of another.

    My past six years have been unlearning the triangle reflexes of blaming the other, and instead look inside to see where I gave up power.

    Looking for the power leak, where I lost control of my own power.

    Any time I say, “you disappoint me” or “ you make me feel sad” I am back on the triangle as a victim.

    Instead if I say, “I am sad or I am hurt” I am in control of my feelings and I get to explore why.

    What actions did I do to wind up feeling this way?

    What can I do now to make me feel better?

    It leaves the other person out of my feelings; it frees them up to be in charge of their own.

    The co-dependency triangle leaves you so tangled up and out of control, where you never can be assured that your peace, love and joy will stick around, that soon something or somebody will come along and steal it away.

    What I love love love, is that you are the only one who can give that away. It isn’t stolen, you literally hand it over in a victim like drama way with great words and feelings.

    When I learned that my love, my joy and my peace were mine and I had right and obligation to protect them, life was much easier, I walked away from the triangle.

    Standing authentic with your feelings isn’t always easy, but always empowering.

    I no longer disappoint my feelings or cover them up or speak down to them or pretend them to be different than what they are.

    I stand up with them no matter what.

    My feelings empower me.

    The Spirit of me is alive in feelings.

    I am as I feel or I feel as I am.

    I blame no one for how I feel.

    I feel solo.

  • We poured ourselves out for them.

    The two main things I have been striving to achieve are to mend a broken heart and to find my sense of lucidity.

    There are times when the brokenness obscures my vision of sanity.

    Perhaps a broken heart causes insanity.

    It is impossible to discern the cause and affect.
    What came first?

    As I head into each situation, past memory, old relationship, investigating and probing, I usually become more lucid and sane and find no love.

    What is so unsettling is that I can have my sanity back, but can’t find love there.

    It seems the wires of insanity are laced with love, wrapped and wound tightly together, like white on rice, that you can’t separate the two.

    Trying to leave love unaffected while becoming lucid, is to maintain a loving family amidst the evidence of dysfunction.

    I see the love change before my eyes, as my eyes grow clearer and clearer, its to see the secondary picture emerge that has always been there, just obscured by my love.

    My insanity fades into lucidness, my love I see was poured into containers with holes.

    Leaking out not held dear.

    I can see clearly now where I poured all my love, see now where it lay abandoned and betrayed, my efforts long forgotten, my undying faithfulness cheated upon, like a used container tossed aside after its contents enjoyed.

    I see the me that was so faithful to the unfaithful.
    I see the me that was so trusting to the untrusting.
    I see the me that was so giving to the ungiving.

    I see me doing the right thing to the wrong people.
    That no matter how much I gave, I couldn’t change the people in front of me, that it is impossible to add love, trust, faith and a giving spirit to someone else.

    And I also think, I came really close in losing that spirit within me, that when the outside doesn’t change, you believe that your love isn’t good enough.

    Your faith isn’t strong enough.
    Your trust isn’t trusting enough…you are the problem, you didn’t try hard enough.

    Insanity is trying to make a loving person by loving them more.
    Insanity is trying to make a giving person by giving them more.
    Insanity is trying to make a trusting person by trusting them more.

    When, evidence showed the first time you walked up to them and handed them, your love, trust and faith, they tore them up.

    Somehow someway, as a child, we keep bringing them more and more, believing that if only we could be good enough, they could see love and kindness within us.

    We look to them to find the value in us.

    What is so shocking to see is the emptiness there, I see them not seeing me at all, and perhaps it is the empty container in front of them.

    We poured ourselves out for them.

  • Reality shows a hole.

    As I walked down the driveway to get our mail, my foot slipped on the ice and I did an impromptu triangle pose, stretching further than my muscles actually stretch, it was as if the ground shifted beneath my feet and caught me way off guard.

    You find your self in a position of surprise and pain, slipping out of control, trying to restore balance.

    That is exactly what happened when my mother’s request came in, it caught me unaware and it took me awhile to gather myself back into control, for it felt like she had snagged my life for a few hours, upending my plans by sidetracking my emotions and me.

    One minute you are walking along with a firm ground underneath you and zip its gone, replaced with rolling upsetting thoughts and emotions, going from a placid empty space to a state of turmoil.

    It is amazing that she still can tromp in and trash my space with just a few uttered words and make me feel that she has tampered with my child.

    The request is secondary to the position she inadvertently put my daughter in, playing monkey in the middle in a game of insanity, where it is impossible for my daughter to win.
    It’s the price paid for allowing my children to define their own relationship with my family, I knew it would leave them vulnerable and open to being a conduit for information about me.

    I just hoped it would never be used, or my children would be used.

    Being used is exactly how I feel my daughter was treated, my mother didn’t see the girl who she was asking to perform this act, she just wanted the picture and took the route easiest traveled, she didn’t want to ask me directly.

    I have tried hard to not use this access myself; I have tried to maintain a neutral stance as I witness their involvement with my family, allowing them to leave or stay as life unfolds.

    A phone call wouldn’t suffice, for she has hung up on me before when the words coming at her were not what she wanted to hear, so I will write a letter.

    A restraining letter.

    A letter that requests her silence between her and I, letting her know that my kids are not to be an open line for her to Use.

    This behavior of hers going to the second generation really boils me, asking others to do her dirty work.

    She knows without a shadow of doubt that if she asked me the path would be unfruitful, she wants what she wants and it matters not how the mission is accomplished, who she steps on and mistreats along the way, what she wants most is a complete set of daughter pictures.

    She wants no holes or vacant spots and she is using my children to patch the hole.

    My glaring open hole in our family will remain that way.

    She isn’t interested in knowing my life; she just wants my photograph to fill the hole in hers.

    The simple thing would be to fill the spot.

    That is what she has wanted all along, for me to get back in line, to rejoin the family, to not be standing out here alone, making her family look shattered, she wants to paint a pretty picture of all her children, to see them all unaffected and looking no worse for the wear, it will soothe her conscience, and make her feel like a whole mother.

    My refusal to slide back into position leaves her with a broken family.

    It is amazing that she wants a picture of the one who ran away.

    The striking juxtaposition of asking for a picture, when she has yet to ask in all these years, “How are you?”

    How are you feeling and dealing, how is your life going, how is it being abused my husband, how has that affected your life? How are you…?

    Nothing, silence…she doesn’t want to know or hear or wonder how I am, she just wants a pretty picture to fill her spot.

    The one sidedness of her world blows me sideways.

    Once again, she doesn’t see me or see my daughter, she sees us both as fulfilling a request.

    A request from a very selfish woman, who is so self- absorbed she is unable to see beyond the end of her nose.

    She doesn’t see the lives behind the pictures, just the pretty pictures; we have no life beyond what we can give to her.

    She doesn’t see the lives beyond the hands doing her dirty work, we have no purpose but what we can do for her.

    My giving days are over; I was done giving to this mad charity a long time ago.

    By keeping focus on the picture, you don’t see the madness orchestrating the life in denial.

    The picture completes a perfect set of six.
    Reality shows the hole.

  • Wants to see.

    My mother leaves a message on my daughter’s cell phone, wanting a recent picture of me, asking her for 4 or 5 of them. What??? Saying on the message, “she is still my daughter and I love her,” like that gives her all rights.

    What about mine, my daughters? And further more, why is she involving her granddaughter in this estrangement, making her feel like she has to pick which one to please, meaning she has to disappoint the other?

    She is okay dragging my daughter into the middle of our broken relationship, asking for a piece of me…asking an innocent bystander.

    I do not have access to her directly nor do I want to open up a line. Instead I want to close the line of communication that she feels she now has, my children.

    I will have to contact a sister whose house she is living in…and pass on that this is simply not acceptable, not now or ever.

    My home line has not changed in 15 years, she is aware of the number and can call. If she truly wants a slice of me, she will have to ask me to my face.

    The overall audacity and ignorance should not surprise me anymore, yet it does.

    Thank god she loves me… Not.

    If she truly loved and seen me, she would honor our silence, leave me alone to heal and be, letting my distance be as it is, and not try to come in through the back door stealing a ‘recent picture’.

    There is no recent me in her life.

    There is no recent her in mine.

    There is no us.

    She just refuses to let me die, to let me go, it feels like abuse all over again, this time with my daughter passing on the message and getting dirty in the middle.

    Oh the picture I would send…It is not a pretty picture.

    Will my picture capture the agony and pain, does it show the torn up insides where the wound is healing nicely, now.

    What is it she wants a picture of?

    The absence of any recent pictures slams this home.

    It shatters the idyllic fantasy she carries of us.

    A picture is worth 1000 words and so is the absence of one in this case…

    I do not feel she has earned the right to own a recent picture of me.

    She doesn’t see the whole picture of me, just what she wants to see.

  • Peace Inside.

    It occurred to me yesterday, that I was like a ghost who refused to leave the scene of a tragedy, a tragedy that I died in, that I was not aware yet that I was dead, that I was lingering around waiting, not willing face it was over.

    Facebook allows me to have a portal into lives I am not a part of, and they in mine, without fully connecting in a real one on one, face to face, heart to heart, truth to truth, feelings to feelings, actions to actions, a real life body & soul connection.

    We are ghosts in each other’s lives.

    I am sure we can be haunted by these exchanges or we can be inspired.

    It occurred to me, what would happen if I did not have these portals what would I really know about my family, for in reality I don’t have body-to-body interactions?

    It is both a blessing and a curse to have this window into their worlds, I had thought that I was better off than Edna and Thelma, that I had this thread into their worlds, and now I am re-thinking that.

    What is it keeping alive?
    A relationship or the evidence that there isn’t one there?

    I am sure it is as hurtful to them as it is to me, the misunderstanding that cuts deeply each time we see their written words.

    Words online, the ghost connection, with great amounts of energy connected.

    It’s the energy I feel more than the words.

    The energy is alive and electric, cutting and decisive, very much a one-way street, no U-Turns here it screams.

    No one is willing to turn around and make a new choice, not me and not them.

    Our streets are running parallel but disconnected.

    A cement wall running between us broken now and again with facebook, a portal opens and we can see what the other is doing.

    Two roads.

    One road traveled by many, one road traveled by few.

    How can I know what it feels like to travel their road, I can’t. I can only write about mine.

    My road is leaving a family of dysfunction.
    Their road is traveling with family.

    Each of us took the road our hearts and souls directed.

    They say I chose this road, but the road chose me.

    A road that began as a very little girl…

    This road I am on was not an option then, but it was offered to me on December 4th.

    Something within me came alive, aware and alert; a voice of truth woke up.

    It spoke and I followed.

    The Universe and I walk this road, the road back to my true self.

    I am sorry we can’t agree, but it can’t be so, you can’t win the world and gain a soul.

    I know to the depth of my being you all can’t see and understand my walking, that what I say is hurtful and it is not intended to be, that my blog say things that don’t feel good, but guess what, the truth first hurt me.

    It hurt me to know what I had to know, to see what I had to see, to feel what I had to feel, yet in doing so it put me on the road to my soul.

    The soul of me, the spirit of my little girl is alive and well within me…even though this road is hard and misunderstood, it is the only road for me.

    I hope your road fills your soul, makes you dance and shine, gives you life and feeds your passion, that you are walking hand and hand with your truth. There is nothing more I can want for you is for you to be at Peace inside.

  • Cover Your Truth.

    The phrase, “The Elephant in the Room” what does that really mean and how is it used properly?

    Have we been taught to not speak about things that are there, due to the reaction they bring?

    What are Elephants in a room?
    What is that?

    Is it a truth that is too much to bear?

    It seems to me that IF all know the Elephant is there and will not speak of it; we are all playing a game called, ‘lets pretend’.

    And ironically, it isn’t the Elephant we are pretending about but ourselves.

    A silent unspoken agreement that states, I will pretend to like you when I know you do things I don’t agree with, if you pretend to like me for pretending to like you.

    It seems to me that allowing an Elephant/truth to sit unspoken about is to pretend to pretend to pretend that there is a common ground that slipped away with the truth.

    And in order to maintain this false relationship, the Elephant/truth must not be mentioned, we skip around the mountain, and reach the summit of social niceties.

    We then form a new relationship that requires us to not go near the Elephant or truth.

    So what are we really preserving by being so courteous?

    Isn’t it just an old relationship minus the new and changing truths?

    This Elephant in the room that no one speaks about or entertains, to me is just dancing in denial with another.

    Being in a relationship that dishonors both.

    If truth isn’t allowed into a relationship, then I have no interest there.

    I am almost positive that the Elephant that arrived in the room with my father is he is a pedophile. If many adults in my youth had spoken of this Elephant, perhaps a few little girls would have been saved.

    It isn’t so much about the Elephant, but the ones who sit silently and allow it to be there.

    Elephants don’t disappear, don’t change, aren’t healed or treated in silence, nope, instead they continue to live out their sickness in full living color, while many courteously look on, being much to kind to speak of such ills about another person, to kind, to much into the social niceties, preserving a family, saving a father, sparing a brother, keeping sweet, that which isn’t.

    An Elephant in the room is showing you what is wrong and you will either see it and respond or look away.

    Pretending there is no Elephant is denial.

    And denial doesn’t heal, cure, erase, etc to the Elephant, it says much more about you than them.

    They are being their true selves; you are not willing to see it.

    You want to preserve a relationship of old, like good memories, and not willing to be present with who they are today, for it will crack, shatter, and explode the person you need them to be.

    At some point in time, it will be harder and harder to be in a room with an Elephant, it will simply cost you too much.

    My silence is not for sale, it cannot be used to cover your truth.