I M Perfect lady

Tag: self

  • Who are You Bringing to This New Year?

    I made no resolutions for this upcoming year; I promised it nothing, hoped on even less, and expect zero from the year…for I now realize it isn't up to a year, an event, a somebody or something to deliver to me that which I desire…it is up to me.

    Expecting things from a new year is pretty much hopeless, for the year is waiting on you.

    You and only you will make 2012 a year to be remembered.

    However you spent last year, you will spend this year, Unless and Until you change that which you are doing, saying and being.

    Last year for me was one of great learning, yet on the outside the average person wouldn't have been able to see the inner changes that went on inside.

    My letting go on the inside was big.  Letting go of things having to be a certain way or expecting things flowing and following a certain trail…disappeared.  

    I had been slowly loosening my grip on controlling things, and last year I was shown clearly how it isn't up to me. 

    While it is discerning to stand in a place of No Hope, No Expectations, No Control….it is very freeing. It isn't that I am hopeless, but that I am no longer hoping for things to be different than they are, nor are my expectations exceeding that which the Universe delivers.

    I feel that I am closer than ever to being on the thin line of Now…and singing the same words of the Universe; One verse.

    Just as I can't expect my body to lose weight without me participating, I can't expect the New Year to improve without me being an active partner.

    The year is just a pile of days and how we live each day builds up the flavor of the New Year…and really each moment of every day.

    Somehow we overlook this moment in time.

    Yet yesterday was the first day we added to the Pile called New Year, what was it full of???  Today is the second helping we are adding, what are you doing today?

    The year is of your making…this year is one in your life…Your life is being drawn as you walk through your days.  What you do each day is you.  

    Each day you live your authentic truthful self is singing with the Universe…each day you put aside your feelings, and not say what you need to say, is another day given to denial.

    We keep thinking denial is a big thing, but it is actually many little moments that go by where we are not ourselves.

    We keep expecting the year to deliver to us authenticity, realness, truth, and strength, when it is our choice in each moment of each new year, that decides if our year will actually make a new us.

    We somehow see the new year as a clean slate, when actually it is a year of new moments awaiting a new you.  A you that will arrive that will make a new choice.

    The only way you will get a new year, is if the you who arrives at each new day is willing to act and speak differently.  

    The year follows you…not you it.

    We somehow have this all backwards, that you can leap upon the back of a white new year and be totally different, that the year will save you, create a newness that hasn't been part of you prior.

    When in fact, just as we wake up to each day and greet each moment of time, we too step into the new year.

    It isn't about the year….it is about the You in the year.

    You bring all of you to this new year.  All your actions of past sit with you as you sit staring at the new year.

    Who did you bring to this new year?

    What does she look like and act like?

    Is she someone you would want as a friend and trust as a partner?  

    We keep looking for the year to change us into someone we may like or even love better, when the year has zero power.

    Each of us brings to the year a self…and each of us is the designer and creator of that self.

    A successful year to me is one that has required more and more of me and challenged me to be more of myself, not less.  It has shown me places where I didn't arrive, where I denied myself and ducked in order to be 'liked/approved of/or loved.

    What I bring to this year, is a me that wants to uncover more aspects of me that are not authentic. I want to live at peace with who I am and love being me…and finding joy along the way.  

    Who are you bringing to this New Year?  

     

     

     

  • All of Life’s Realities.

    It is my 53rd Birthday, and I feel so young at heart yet wise beyond my years. I feel so wondrous in Spirit and the weight of a life's journey…Light but knowing the journey it took to get here.

    The Soul Lost quilt..

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    The "Soul Eclipse" was created in 2005.  When I felt like I was drowning in emotion and the only place I felt normal was in quilting. As you can see it came through on my quilt.  Merging emotions and the sliver of gold is my Soul trying to gain ground or a toe hold on 'normal'.  I seemed so small against the world of troubles…or the messes so large.

    And then I felt the urge to create a woman…

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    This was my first lady, emerging and in a dark shadow.  She is very small against the back drop of great patterns and designs and colors, she herself is small, yet crucial in the overall quilt.

    And then I felt like I wanted to do moving ladies….

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    The great Energy behind the ladies is still there, and the ladies are now moving and dancing.  The sisterhood of Ladies….who dance to the beat of their own drum, was something for me to aspire to.  I Loved my Lady.  I just didn't know that the Lady was me for many months of creating her. She was leading my way.

    She would tell me I was okay, long before I knew…and would express emotions that I had a hard time verbalizing or bringing into myself.  She got it…My Lady.

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    In November 2010, I made this Mitten Tree Quilt, and felt the weight of being a misfit, of no longer fitting into my family. It felt as heavy as the cloak the Lady is wearing. But, I was resigned to my life and accepted it with reverence.  I loved this quilt for it had so much truth and wisdom there…I was okay being me, even if I only fit on the Mitten Tree of Misfits.

    And then, I created my latest one this fall…

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    She is walking with definite knowing, and great direction, confident and very much okay with who she is, celebrating it even…not wearing it like a heavy garment.  Not only has she accepted her path, she is Perfectly Perfect being her…she wouldn't trade nothing for her journey now, as Dr. Maya Angelou says.  I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be….And I LoVe Being ME!

    A journey from imperfect to perfect, by accepting all of life's realities!

  • How Low are your boundaries…

    “All children are born to grow, to develop, to live, to love, and to articulate their needs and feelings for their self-protection” ~ Alice Miller

    Who knew that in order to grow up, you have to learn how to articulate your feelings and needs?  

    Isn't it funny in a peculiar way, how the parents who abused us believe they know what our needs are.  Really?  You do?

    What is even more tragic is that we continue to believe they have our best interest at heart…really?  Are they not the same ones who lowered who I was, who didn't allow me to self-protect?  

    There is no other crime in the world where the victim and the offender have relationships long long after the crime, where there is no separation…unless, and it is a very small proportion, the child presses charges against the parent.

    In order for the crime to be addressed, the child has to put his parent in jail…and be then accussed of 'breaking up the family'. Really, isn't it really just a crime ring?

    These crimes are snuggled nicely into the family unit, where the other spouse is a knowing accomplice, and the child or children are held victims forever…

    Even the whisper of 'speaking' of this sets off and in motion a torrent of fear that pulls tighter the controls of the patriarchal power…striking the child mute once again.

    The child fears to stand against the offender/accomplice…and is persuaded to return to the 'family' or crime ring.

    What I will never underestimate is the power of the parents to sway the sanity and well being of the family unit…and they have the exact same power to create insanity and hold it tightly within.

    Parents power will either be used to abuse or be used to love…and the children will follow in kind.

    Our family used family as a place for abuse to flourish…it wasn't used to raise and teach us self-protection, in fact it did the complete opposite.

    It is said that my father clothed and fed 14 children, but they fail to report how he didn't raise us, but instead stunted our emotional growth, rendered useless our power to self protect.

    He instead, along with my mother, set us out in the world without a way to protect ourselves, we had to learn this on our own.

    It took me 40 years to figure it out, that first step in the course of self protection was to learn to protect myself from my parents….

    No abusive parent will grant a child its rights to their needs or feelings, it is impossible for them to even consider it.

    Abusive parents are very self absorbed, they don't even know what you need, but the certainly and unequivocally LET You know what they need….and like always, we acquiesce our feelings and our needs to please them.

    What other crime does the victim work so hard and give up their lives to please the offender???

    If we are not standing up for our feelings and what our needs are we are laying down in order to please the one who lowered us.  How low will you go???  It is like insane limbo….and actually it does leave you life in limbo.

    It is my belief that offenders have no low limits, they could care less what is required of you in order to please them….it is up to us how low the bar goes, how low are your boundaries…

     

     

  • A False Appearance Called You.

    Between the comments, a conversation and reading, it came to me that this isn’t unusual this indirect conversations. And in fact, the bigger the ‘secret’ or point the bigger the fear and the consequences or fall out will be.

    There is a payoff for not talking directly, it allows you to be in a pretend safe zone. Get that, a pretend safe zone or a pretend friendship, or a pretend relationship, a pretend love.

    A pretend love. What is that?

    And how is it that we are more comfortable being a pretend self, than being a truthful one.

    I know I was fricking inept when it came to being myself. I had no clue. I was frustrated, anxious, nervous, a mess, a total basket case, BEING me.

    How is that possible, that we wear the mask of pretend with ease even if it doesn’t cover up the resentment and fear that lies beneath?

    What I know for sure is that we fear a big fall out equal to the level of fear we have IF we were to be ourselves and REALLY say what is on our minds…as well as the size or the extent of the secret.

    In my family it was gigantic, earth shattering big.

    In other families it is huge and life changing for sure.

    But we fail to realize is that it will change the pretend fearful weird exchanges we have with each other to truthful ones.

    I recall my sister asking to be my friend on face book (after a four year silence and vast differences)…and being this new frank self…I asked, “why do you want to be my friend and told her she may not like the new me and that she best to go to my blog and read.” She came back and said, “Nope, not that interested”.

    While that hurt, it also set us both free from pretending. I didn’t want to begin a second time around with her and leave my frankness behind.

    Now it seems quite silly and childish or immature to even entertain the idea of pretending to get along…And that whole sentence is wrong for little children are known for their frankness.

    So, maybe it is not silly or childish, but just lingering on junior high, where we will do anything to get along, to be liked, to be part of a group. We pretend to get along and in doing so live a pretend life.

    That to me is so tragic, that many many people live their whole lives as somebody else…or for somebody else.

    Self loving is not ever having to pretend. I LOVE that.

    I used to pretend to have no fear of my father.

    I used to pretend that I had no resentment against my mother.

    I pretended that she made wise choices or that they didn’t bother me.

    I pretended and pretended and pretended, until I lost complete sight of who I was.

    I looked up the definition of pretend. “To give a false appearance.”

    Yes, I was afraid of my father and I acted like I wasn’t.

    Each and every time we pretend or cover up a feeling or not speak our truth, we lose a little bit more of ourselves…and gain more and more of a false appearance.

    Who knew that by sparing another you would create a false appearance or false self. And here is the deal, you are only fooling your self that if you don’t address each issue, that they fade away and disappear.

    They don’t.

    They are with you always.

    For your feelings can’t be erased by pretending.

    Love can’t be formed by pretending. Friendships are not bonded deeply in pretending. All pretending does is pretend that it isn’t so…when it is.

    Isn’t it funny, you thought you were fooling another when indeed you were fooling your self, creating a false appearance called you.

  • To Be Fearless.

    Inside of me resides the shadows of a very mental woman; she lurks in the background of my life.  I have worked very hard to keep her back there and not let her come roaring to the front wreaking all havoc.

     

    When my children make choices that are not my choices, or what I would like for them, she is BEGGING loudly to get involved.

     

    She would love nothing more than to toss a few choice words around, belittle, berate, and demean them.  She loves to rant and rave and direct others to do things to make her happy or feel safe or right or in control… she is the queen of all bitches.

     

    My mind gets crammed full of what her desires are, she eclipses my present moment like a very dark cloud, her wants and desires are mostly her fears and they rain down within me.

     

    I have to wrestle inside of me to shut her up.  To not weaken and let her have her way in my world, for when she does, it doesn’t come out sounding sweet nor does it fall gently upon my children.

     

    For almost 7 years now, I have fought to gain a foothold in front of her, to shut my mouth and keep her inside, to face my fears of abandonment alone, to not let escape even one sentence of hers.

     

    If she speaks, it is only to control others for her own happiness; she steals their lives and makes them her own.

     

    My hardest walk ever is to be silent, to give my viewpoint and then let go.  To release each and every person, related or not, into their lives, no matter how their choices make me feel.

     

    If my happiness is found by their choices, I am dependent upon them for my happiness.

     

    It can’t matter a bit if I am sad, devastated, lonely, or unhappy.  My state of being is about me, not them.

     

    If they make choices with a gauge on how it makes me feel, I am teaching them to be a co-dependent, and that their choices should NOT hurt others or make others feel bad.

     

    That is how I raised my children until they were in their teens, and now I am teaching them the opposite. To do what they want, no matter how it makes me feel.

     

    Instead their decisions have to be what they want and they are to be gauged by their own happiness not mine.

     

    And the way I am teaching this is to let them make choices that fill me with fear, trepidation, anxiety, loss, etc.  I have to let them learn who people are by themselves.  I am unable to forbid them; I have to let them go.

     

    My childhood home reflected the ways of the church, that our lives were not our own to live.  Our lives had to please and conform to another’s happiness or fall into the category of what a good Christian does and what a good child does.

     

     

    When I sit with the thoughts still about how many are unable to move independently, I greatly understand, for I too used to live this way.  Frozen unable to move for the fear of wrath to go against the mainstream of how we were raised.

     

    Unable to go against them for we are seen as bad and we fear that if we are bad enough, they will push us out and away.

     

    How binding to live this way. To be too afraid to move knowing it is going against the ideals of people in charge.

     

    As you sit, you teach your children to sit.

    As you act to please others, you teach your children to give up their lives.

     

    I know how hard it is to find a voice and use it that doesn’t match what others want or need. 

     

    But the only way I began to live free of the mental woman inside of me was to go against all that I was raised to be.

     

    To say and do things that make others unhappy for my own peace of mind, for doing what was right for me.

    To speak of things I used to be silent about.

     

    It wasn’t that I wasn’t afraid.  I was terrified, but I did it anyway.  Being fearless is knowing you are afraid, but doing it anyway.

     

    As I see so many silently sitting and knowing…I wonder when they will decide independently, that now is the time to be fearless.

     

  • Without your truths.

    I sat with my old self yesterday and caught a glimpse of how I used to be, how if it weren’t for the truth exploding into our family, where I too would be caught.

     

    I saw her living in two worlds, locking up her truth before entering each side, so a part of her was always in the closet.

     

    And to me the part that gets locked away is the truth, for there will be a price to pay to let it out.  And the price is very large…huge in some cases, your whole family is on the line, if the truth slips out of the closet.

     

    She continues to walk into a church she no longer believes in, to keep her family believing she is there. And her family needs her to arrive so they too can pretend she is still the same girl.

     

    She knows if she doesn’t arrive, if she speaks her truth, her whole world will change.

     

    As I left her yesterday, a song was playing on the radio, and the words filled my jeep, “I am not ready to say good-bye…”

     

    In life we are often asked to pick between staying and not being truthful or leaving with the truth and all it curtails.

     

    When you are raised and believe in a religion that is based on pretending and false facts, and your whole world is comprised of this, you will lose your whole world.

     

    While greeting the truth, you have to say good-bye to your pretend family.  I say pretend, for you will know them by how they respond to your truth, until then, it is all pretend.

     

    In my family of origin, it was built primarily on false facts, the façade and truth hid in the closet.  All then acted, pretending there was no such storage for all the sins she blessed away.

     

    It wasn’t until one sin fell out that the rest came tumbling after and I was overrun with truth.

     

    I am not certain how the rest could just push it all back in and go on pretending, but they did and have.  Their capacity for hiding is much larger than mine. 

     

    While it may seem that they have once again locked the door, I believe that we all get to face our truths some day.

     

    I can’ t know when, nor can I force you to open your door and let them out, to live with them in harmony.

     

    Our truths don’t disappear, just because we fail to look upon them, instead what happens is you live a life without them, a pretend life.

     

    You get to have a pretend father and mother.

    You can have pretend sisters and brothers.

    You then get pretend security of being surrounded by folks who care.

     

    As I found out, if you open your closet of truth, your pretend family disappears.

     

    Most are not willing to say good-bye to pretend…while I thought they did not want to face the truth.  It isn’t the truth they fear, but the façade of pretend. They truly don’t want to know it is made of up fakeness.

     

    It is better to live in the comfort of fakeness than to live alone with your truth.

    Yet who are you without your truths?

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    “Every exit is an entrance somewhere else. “

    ~Tom Stoppard

  • 100 Proof.

    When I hear people so vehemently defending their religion, it almost seems like they are taking it personally, perhaps too personal, like there isn’t a self left standing, that the self and the religion are one.

     

    In my experience within the FALC, that the stamp of the church infected each one of my roles.

     

    In fact as a child, you were first taught what a sin was.  That you could or could not do this, not by what was kind or good for humanity, but rather what is good for being a First Apostolic. 

     

    So, instilled within us was the foundation of the FALC, before we even knew who we were, we identified ourselves as First Apostolic, and it ruled our lives from the time we were very little.

     

    Not only that, but the adults in our lives, the ones we depended upon for food and shelter, also lived by this formation. The FALC controlled them, not reasonable thought or what was good for their own family, but what was seen as good within the church.

     

    If you look at how we were indoctrinated from the time we were just babies, it is easy to see how any comment that is shining a light or seemingly smearing the church, it is actually feeling personal, for there is very little about the self that isn’t created by the FALC.

     

    And while deeply invested and entwined within the confines of the religion, there is very little self exposed, so any comment will feel like a direct hit.

     

    Otherwise, if this weren’t so, the reactions would not be so rabid…there could be two people having a discussion.

     

    Yet as far as my experience goes, having a dialogue with someone who is 100 proof of religion or abuse, all you talk to is the religion or the abuse.

     

    You can’t get to the individual or self, for each role and thing they do is seen first through the lens of abuse or religion.

     

    There is no separation…or awareness, it is one solid piece and no matter what words you use or what tone of voice or what research you have found, what the truth literally is, IF it something being said about the 100% make up of who they are, they will react and not respond.

     

    Their reactions will be from fear and understandably so.

     

    I have very little recollection of my years in the FALC, for I was missing.  There was no self there.  I moved through life following the group more or less or feeling shame and guilt if I didn’t.

     

    Mostly I would say shame and guilt for not being a good member.

     

    I didn’t marry within the religion, and I feel that was the first weakening of the hold the religion had on me.  And they do preach that the devil is out there waiting to pull you out.  And it does, but I don’t see it as a devil.

     

    I seen myself from the view of the church or the view of how my family saw me…or the view of how my husband saw me, or the view of how my friends saw me. But never a view of how I saw my self.

     

    If you took all the views away…or without them giving me value, I disappeared.

     

    And in fact, when my family’s abuse came into view, I lost a huge part of my self, for I lived for them.  Then when I discovered that the church knew of my abusive father and that he was blessed repeatedly, even for the latest little girl BY her father, I lost another huge chunk of who I was.

     

    In a few short days, I stood alone.

     

    It was then that I knew I had no me.

    All I had was a person who had been built up by what was needed by the religion and family too. But I had built very little of me and I was 46 years old.

     

    Oh, I suppose I had 25% me.  My art…well maybe not that high, I guess it was more like 5%. 

     

    That 5% was pure me.  And it was from that small beginning I began adding more and more of me into me…and each time I discover another vein of religious or abusive beliefs or thoughts…I know it is another percentage of me coming forth to be brought upright.

     

    So, as I read the comments of those who feel so viscerally attacked, I understand.  For there is very little of you that isn’t made up of FALC ingredients, you may be 100 proof.   

  • Rob me of being Me.

    Doesn’t it seem like people lose their senses when it comes to love and religion, that they leave their common sense and critical eyes behind, and blindly follow?

     

    How is it that matters of the heart and soul are often sold to snake oil salesmen speaking of a promise land, someday?

     

    The seemingly intelligent folks who fall victim to the fairy tale most religions spin is utterly amazing to me, that we will give up the very insides of us for their cause.

     

    We will give up the right to our bodies, our minds, our hearts and our souls…until all that is left is a shell.

     

    A useless shell, for there is no heart, no soul, and no mind.  We become members along their narrow pathway leading to the promise land.

     

    We sell all our todays, all our feelings within our hearts, all the stirrings of our souls, for Heaven after we die.

     

    What they fail to tell us is we are the walking dead.  That we of our own free will and ourselves is dead.

     

    We have no I.

    We have no me.

    We have no self that is free to live, as it wants.

     

    And grown women give up the rights of their bodies, minds and souls and call this a spiritual experience with God?  How???

     

    It sounds like a very dysfunctional love affair.  Where one has all the power and the other is stripped of all sense of self.

     

    That was my old relationship with God…it was self less.

    Without common sense or my eyes, my ears, my feelings, my intuition, my gut, my instincts, my heart and my soul, my passion, my gratitude.  I was absent; I disappeared in order to love that god.

     

    And that god as far as I can tell is the devil who wanted my soul…a destroyer god, one who stole my free will.

     

    In my experience the God that I now know, the one who orchestrates the stars, the moon, and is intimate with each blade of grass, wants for me more than I can dream myself.

     

    He isn’t here to rob me of being Me.

     

  • Right or True

    A new young friend of mine wrote about Normal in her blog (http://www.erinstales.blogspot.com/) and it led me to the point of just because it is normal doesn’t mean it is right.

     

    Somehow we believe that normal equates right, just because most are doing it.

     

    We somehow have fallen into compliance with the majority and forget to have independent thoughts and even worse separate actions, we tend to find comfort in moving in huge numbers and then call it normal.

     

    No matter what the swarm is doing.

     

    Fitting in seems to be the way of it instead of fitting out.

     

    Even if fitting in means you must do something wrong or go against your inner compass.

     

    I love that normal only means the majority…okay, here is the definition from her blog.

     

    nor-mal
    adjective
    1. conforming to the standard or common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural,
    2. serving to establish a standard.

     

    What is standard for cult like religions? What is standard or common for dysfunctional families?  It is this that is their normal, but it doesn’t make it right or healthy or anything.

     

    Somehow normalcy has slipped by us as a character of being good, when in fact it simply means a repetitive behavior, but not the content of it.

     

    When my life was turned upside down and I went in search of normal, it was illusive.  I didn’t know who I was nor could I find a template of normal anywhere, nor perfection. 

     

    Normal changed for each person and in each situation and again, ruled by the majority.

     

    What I had thought were ‘standards’ of my old religion, were just behaviors all succumbed to…but they were lacking of content…or when put to practice fell apart.  Their only strength came from the number of people believing in them, not in the actual belief itself.

     

    I am certain this is true for most things.

    My father is being held up by the volume of people who call him father, but not by his own content.

     

    I am very wary now of what is called normal…for it could be a lens that changes what lies behind.

     

    I am also very happy to say, I am not a ‘normal’ member of my family of origin.

     

    Normal doesn’t make anything right or true.

     

     

  • I am allowed to feel…

    I lose control of me, when I feel I have lost control of others, and it puts me in a very immature action, where my voice gets higher and higher the more I feel I am losing.

     

    What I can’t understand is why I want control in the first place, when life is showing me I have none, nor will I ever, nor is it mine to have.

     

    Being a mother tests this in ways you would normally not have, or perhaps it is in relationships too, but for me it is in mothering where I lose it.

     

    I lose my decorum or any spiritual idea of being in love, peace and joy…it evaporates quickly and in its place rages an out of control woman who wants control of the uncontrollable.

     

    My son’s life is saturated with folks I would rather he keep his distance from, and this fills me with anxiety that explodes unexpectedly for both of us.

     

    It seems so simple to him, let me be with my friend, let me work for a cheating man, let me hang with friends from a cult like religion, just let me be.

     

    And to me it seems I am knowingly allowing him to engage with folks who are confused at best and due to this fact alone, will not hold his best interest at heart.

     

    Yet my hollering is not helping…and I have no other response.

     

    While I lay in bed after he happily was off again, it came to me to let him go, as he is long gone already.  He has always been there; he hasn’t left just because I have.

     

    I somehow missed this, that when I left, I felt I pulled them all out…even when and if reality and life are showing me different. 

     

    I fear losing them, and instead they are already gone.

     

    I guess I didn’t want to know I walked away from the crowds and places they are comfortable in.  I didn’t want to know I left my children there, but I did.

     

    I raised them with the ideas and thoughts and beliefs of the cult like religion, being comfortable around dysfunctional people, and now I appear like the madwoman as I rant in fear because they still enjoy being there.

     

    I seethed in hatred for living here, for that bunch still having an influence over my children, and I knew that my hatred was directed at me.

     

    That what I rail against is not about them, but about me.

     

    I hate me for the dysfunction I brought to my children.

    I hate it when they show me over and over what I taught them.

    I hate to see it and I hate to own that it came from me.

    I hate that while I became aware, I can’t change my children, I can’t stop the train I put them on as children.  I hate that I now must find peace in allowing them to be where I planted them.

    I hate that I have no control, that I can’t rip them out of the dysfunctional gardens I planted them in and transplant them in a space that is much more kinder to their souls.

     

    I hate that I have to watch them grow there.

    I hate that I am aware in moments like these.

    I hate that loving someone means letting them make choices that are not like mine.

    I hate that I hate that which I cannot change.

    In hating it keeps me from accepting, but accepting at times is a hard pill to swallow.

     

    I am granting me time to hate…like a mourning process.

    I am allowed to hate until I accept.

    I am allowed to not like that which I don’t like.

    I am allowed to feel out of control, when I am out of control.

    I am allowed to feel…