I M Perfect lady

Tag: speaking

  • Not Hide

    Mark Nepo writes, "How are you tending to the emerging story of your life?"

    "Like many of us, I seem to be continually challenged not to hide who I am.  Over and over, I keep finding myself in situations that require me to be all of who I am in order to make my way through."

    "Whether breaking a pattern of imbalance with a lifelong friend, or admitting my impatience to listen to my lover, or owning my envy of a colleague, or even confronting the self-centeredness of strangers stealing parking places, I find I must be present – even if I say nothing. I find I must not suppress my full nature, or my life doesn't emerge."

    "Aside from the feeling of integrity or satisfaction that comes over me when I can fully be myself, I am finding that being who I am – not hiding hiding any of myself – is a necessary threshold that I must meet or my life will not evolve.  It is a doorway I must make my way to or nothing happens.  My life just stalls."

    "Tending our stories means that our lies must open if we are to live in the mystery; our ways of hiding no matter how subtle must relax open if we are to be."  Mark

    How appropriate this is, for just yesterday, I was once again asked to not hide myself…to speak up and for my own integrity.

    As a Mail Lady, I have a backup to do my route every other Saturday or when I am sick or on vacation.  He is waiting in the wings to be needed…to be my relief.  Yet time and time again, when I called him, he was unable to, and finally told me that he would only relieve me on Fridays and Saturdays.  Then even Fridays he was unable to. And then it trickled down to him not even returning my calls for relief.  Our communication ceased to exist, my smallest faith in him completely dried up.  I can't rely on someone who is unavailable to even be asked to be available.

    In the past, the backups and regular route drivers communicated without our boss running interference, we had an open and clear communication system of courtesy, of notifying the other of potential days that we would be unavailable…like good parents tending to the route to ensure that it was always taken care of.

    This relatively newcomer to our office has thrown a monkey wrench into how we do things, and oddly enough, it seems he has the most power. 

    The proper protocol is for my boss to find the backup, but we as drivers felt it easier to not have a middleman, but talk directly and share our upcoming events and work around each other to ensure that all of us get to take the days off we truly need.  The higher need, say a wedding would trump a day off to just be off.  Reasons carried a weight, and we were considerate of this.

    Once he stopped returning phone calls, I handed him over to my boss.  It is up to her to reach him, ask my request and then relay it back to me.  

    Yesterday, she tells me he is unavailable to work until March 1. That he has a medical reason.  Which most likely is true, but his past has proceeded him, and it just seems that he is taking me for a longer ride.  The weight of the imbalance is completely on my end.

    My nature is not to take imbalance in silence, I can't let this slip by docile and compliant, for I would not be tending to who I am. 

    As my boss stood up for him, I stood taller for me. I stood for myself and the other two who are faithful and considerate, and who now have to conform to his negligence.  

    My boss astutely felt that I perhaps had more of an issue with her management than his lack of work ethic…and I told her, "I guess I do."

    I felt that as she defended him, she left her three good employees un managed.  She relied on the good to continue to be good…to good naturally take his lack of work ethic one more time.

    What I found so odd, is that instead of coming down on him, she comes down on me.  She expects the good to carry more. And to do so without giving her any lip. Certainly, now with a medical excuse, her hands are tied, but when she stood across the line with him, it left me to stand against authority…I stood up stating my unhappiness.

    It seems like tending to me is to stand up, that I am moved to defend my integrity and faithfulness.  That her asking me to give up my days for his reasons once again is asking too much.

    She repeated many times, "I am sorry."  Until I told her that word from her sounds like a swear.  I can't feel your sorry.  I feel you supporting a man who is disloyal to us all.  Your sorry can't change the fact that I now have to work the next 5 Saturdays in a row.  And it isn't so much Saturday, but the five previous days…with one day off in between.  

    Her answer was to look into getting a backup to the backup.  My answer is to get rid of the no backup backup.  

    Her answer too was that I can find work elsewhere if unhappy.

    She doesn't see that by catering to him, she is neglecting the ones who are doing that which they are hired to do. 

    She tends to those who are neglecting their work.

    This brought me back to the imbalances in our childhood home, and how my mother relied on the good to carry the 'bad'.  That the good have to carry more and more…to keep the balance.

    The failure to carry more is seen to be more of a crime, than the crime itself.

    My mother too was unable to get rid of dead weight, so instead she piled more upon those already carrying.  Never focusing on who we carried.

    My boss is so similar to my mother…and our office much like a dysfunctional home, where the one doing the least or creating the most damage is protected.  And if you don't like it, "Leave."

    The only option I have is to work within her system or quit.

    I see the lay of the land, where her focus lies…and I what I will have to do for myself.  How to become self sufficient as possible and how not to rely on her or get my heart set on having days off.  Things I have to do if I want to work there.

    Just as a child learns what they have to endure to be part of a dysfunctional family.

    I can see clearly now my role as a child; to carry the dead weight.  It was expected of me. 

    The greatest difference in my job is I do get paid for carrying his weight, for working his days.  I am compensated for it…

    It is my intention to use the compensation well. Extra money to do fun things, and floating holidays in which I can play.

    My life isn't at a stall, I am making my way through, I am speaking up and evolving and learning how to use these exchanges for my benefit…to see the present and not hide!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Here in Support Of…

    http://thestory.org/archive/the_story_111611_full_show.mp3/view

     

    The link above was given to me on Facebook by Carol Cline. Thanks so much Carol for sharing this with me.  I highly recommend you all taking the time to listen to the podcast.  If you can't get there from this link, go to thestory.org and look for Sheldon Kennedy's story, "Why I didn't Tell".

    What he speaks of is so right on, and that the perpetrator doesn't groom, control and manipulate, JUST the child, but all who come in contact with him.  He is the master manilpulator.  And the child senses that no one will believe him, for all believe the master manipulator, the community buys his 'coaching'….the parents trust him, etc.  All are under the spell of his lurid game.

    What else caught my attention is when he speaks of The Bystander, of those who know and say nothing…how we need to educate the bystanders.

    Getting others to believe is educating the bystander. To try and get them to hear that the stories Jim, Josh, Carl and I are writing about is US trying to educate you, the bystander.

    The Bystander who is standing by and believing in the tales and reputation HE is spinning.  

    I can honestly say, I get the web that is spun around all the folks as well as the children, it is thick and powerful and incredibly hard to penetrate.

    You all are living in the web of lies and deceit that is spun IN order for his nest of sexual abuse to continue on.  He has EVERYTHING to lose, so he spins and spins and spins….lies and a false life.

    While he has control of our heads, your beliefs, your faith and trust, he can operate underneath and in the dark molesting children.  The molested child sees you believing in his tale, and can feel like I, how we can't make you believe differently.

    Perhaps what needs to happen the most is for you to at least ask the questions, dare to face this monster and see his reaction.  Dare to be bold and questioning, dare to not just be a passive believer, ask for more proof.  Look around.  Dig deep into His life and accept for now, the child's word.

    Just as Josh and Jim stepped forth to educate you ByStanders, they are doing so knowing you all will most likely NOT believe them.  Most likely you will look instead at the intricate web that was spun to keep you from seeing beneath.

    A minister is a grand role to use as a cover.

    All stand in a bit of awe just in the presence of "a Minister".

    Behind the 'role' of minister is a man.  A man that two generations have come forth and said what he did to them.  

    Is that enough to break the spell, to tear the web?

    As a person standing by….what do you do?

    Will you help fill in the tear?  Will you be the one who works deligently to help 'repair' this rip in his reputation….and allow the abused adult child go on not being believed?

    What will it take….A third Generation?

    Just know that we all are trying to educate the ByStanders.

    We are here in support of the Victims.

    Who are you here in support of…

     

  • Remain Unmoved.

     The gift that the scandal at Penn State is offering is it is encouraging others to stand in the long line of abused children, whether it happened recently or years and years ago.

    The adults who are standing today, are great examples to others that we can't sit down and silently pray that it will go away.  It won't.

    What I find so infuriating is that many will HEAR about abuse, but not believe it.  Which is the biggest problem victims have is being believed.  Imagine, we are not believed.

    What does 'believing' us mean?  What will show us you believe?  What actions are your changing to tell us that you are now 'believing' in the news?

    What I just get so floored by is that people listen, but they don't believe. They hear, but they continue on as if we had not spoken.

    Josh commented on my blog post, "Shattered Dreams" stating that not only did his Uncle abuse his father, he also abused him.  That means that Eric has gone on abusing now for many years.  What will that mean to you all who sit in the pews?  What will happen?  Will you contact the Chairperson of the Board of the First Apostolic Church and DEMAND he not preach?  Will you start to then question many things, or will you hear it and just pass it on as 'their story' their life, and go on unchanged?

    I believe there is active listening where it instills actions and then there is passive listening where it requires nothing of you.

    What I want to impress upon you, that passive listening is the greatest gift to Eric, it will allow him to freely abuse in the third generation.  Imagine that?

    Passive listening is what Joe Paterno did.  Passive listening is what those in Higher Positions did.  Passive listening is how so many boys were abused, while the coach horsed around in the showers.

    I don't know what it will take in your world for you to act upon knowledge, for you to stand up and get 'involved'.  

    What I see most is the courageous abused children, even those who are now adults stepping forth…. and speaking out. How many will be believed?  Just as in the Penn State case, you will draw a side, you will decide who to believe and why….I would be curious to hear the other side.

    Josh is telling you, do you believe him?  Do you dare not act?  For all who will passively read blogs and then go on with life unchanged, you are exactly what is needed for sexual crimes to be committed, again and again and again.  There is a term for you all, accessories to the crime.

    Those who know and remain unmoved.

  • Perfect for Me.

    A thought came to mind yesterday as I wondered about the withholding of truths, that perhaps it is the desire to be perfect that stops us.
    We don't want to say things that are upsetting or we don't want to not go along to cause waves so we refrain from our truths to look better, seem more perfect, nicer even.
    Yet in this 'nicer more perfect' mode, we are not feeling that inside.
    Inside the storms rage, the contradictions swell, and it seems like we are split in two…having to wear 'nice' while feelings and emotions as well as knowledge seem to overwhelm the inside.
    Just like pretending you don't have raging reaction to a bad food, where your stomach is turning, sharp pains, nausea, etc…and you continue to have a calm pleasant face.
    Being truthful is to vomit up all what we hold inside, getting rid of the turmoil that is infesting our insides.  And we want to do this in  pleasant non-hurtful manner, or without causing grief…which is impossible.
    The reasons and sources of our angst usually aren't  wonderful experiences, but rather trauma.  Speaking up about trauma will not sound or feel like chatting about the purchase of a new car.  It will hold pieces and shards of pain, hurt, betrayal, fear, anxiety, shock and horror.  It will reduce you to a shaking quacking hurt soul, and you have to explain how you feel.
    We unveil our wounded soul. 
    The same one we had to cover up in order to survive, we now take the chance  of dying in order to speak of it.
    And there is a dying of sorts.  The death of the survival person, the one who lived pretending the abuse didn't happen.  This survival person is who people liked, who got along, who was 'nicer' and 'kinder'….and we are afraid that the truthful person will be annihilated.
    In my case it happened.  My survival self (the pretending trauma didn't live in my body) was accepted and my truthful self rejected.
    Being rejected for being my truthful self felt like being abused a second time around, but this time aware and fully present…And this time, I didn't have the the body's natural survival mode of "Disassociation"….I wanted to feel this, to accept this, to acknowledge this, to honor this IN order to now live in reality.
    I wasn't willing to revert back to my childhood ways of living a life inside that was totally different from my presentation to the world.  
    This time, what I feel inside matches the features on my face or my actions and often times, non-actions.
    I no longer care if I am perfect for you, I am always perfect for me.
    " The First Casualty of Dysfunction is truth" Carl Huhta

  • 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.

  • Freedom isn’t gained by doing Nothing.

    We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is
    visible at a glance. We err because this is more comfortable.     ~Alexander
    Solzhenitsyn

    While I have known that it takes folks with great courage
    to speak out, I didn’t realize ALL can see, but only a few will give up their
    comfortable seat and do so.

    It isn’t that they can’t see, IT is because they don’t want
    to be uncomfortable.

    Isn’t that odd? We see the truth, but err in acting so not to be uncomfortable.

    We don’t want to experience perhaps the rage or dislike
    another may send our way, if we dare to mention the unmentionables.

    The truth sits there in its uncomfortable glory, shining
    forth and many will glance away so they will not feel uncomfortable.

    What happens when a few good folk don’t want to feel
    uncomfortable? What do you all believe happens to the pedophiles, while you are choosing comfort over speaking out?

    As I wrote on my brother’s blog, “It takes great courage
    to 'tell the authorities' but if you don't, your truth and words get stuck in a loop within the structure of abuse. You are the one who needs to bust out and speak their names. Until then your silence cements the structure in place, the bars on the cage    .” www.messyguru.typepad.com

    Do the people sitting in their ‘comfortable’ spot really
    know what they are doing by not speaking out and feeling uncomfortable?

    I see it as either you are relaxing in the cage with the
    abusers or you are outside of the cage speaking out. To me neither seems comfortable, but only one is constructive or actively shutting down the cycle of abuse.

    Even if you only have hearsay and you are keeping that
    quiet, you have no idea which part of the puzzle piece you carry, which part of the big machine you are keeping in place.

    Each of us holds part of the cage together, and if one by
    one we start speaking out, the cage begins to fall apart.

    All it takes to get the ball rolling and to open the cage
    and let the flood of victims come forth is one voice. One voice will carry the others forth.

    The word has to get out that it is okay and normal to feel fear and terror as you break the silence, as you rattle the cage of abuse…It is the only way it will end.

    Someone has to bend the bars of silence by talking to the
    authorities.

    The reporting voices are the heroes and the heroines. They walked in fear and terror, but take the step anyway.

    They speak of fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncles,
    neighbors and friends. They share their stories of abuse…letting go of the shame and guilt, ridding them of the load they carry.

    They are willing to be uncomfortable to save a child from following in their footprints. Until and unless the abuser’s names are brought to the authorities, abuse will continue forth.

    Silence locks the cage.

    What I still find hard to believe is that it is more comfortable in a cage with a monster…than it is to leave and break the silence, yet I do understand.

    We get comfortable or numb to the fear we know…and are more
    frightened of a new fear.

    However, this new fear and terror of speaking out will free you from the cage of abuse…it is the only way out is doing what makes you uncomfortable.

    Freedom isn’t gained by doing nothing.

     

  • The enemy of Lies.

    Who I was the first 46 years is totally different than who I am now.  I went from being totally submissive, compliant and eager to please, while a bit of an outspoken person, I spoke for what I then believed…as long as I stayed within the party lines.

    I never strove to make ripples in life, but rather was the one who smoothed over the waters; I took out the waves…a calming force, I was the one who would settle the ruffled feathers.

    It shocks me at times to see me being the one making waves and saying things I know will not sit well, but I say them anyway.

    At times it was hard recognizing me or even allowing the new me to be me, to let her speak and write with such forthrightness. 

    Sometimes it seems that I myself no longer have a boundary or a line that I can’t cross, whereas before there were many imaginary but firm lines.

    Now there is nothing I can’t say, as far as speaking the truth goes, there doesn’t seem to be a topic that is off limits, it is like I have discovered my own personal freedom of speech.

    I guess it helped to have my personal wounds splashed across the paper; it really left little to protect or hide…my darkest secret was broadcasted on the Radio, TV, and in the Newspaper as well as word of mouth. 

    Of course the only ones who knew, knew me, the rest it was just another sad story, a pathetic man doing obscene things…I was the story behind the story.

    My life’s details were freely handed out, talked about, discussed with bits of truths and tons of speculation sprinkled with hearsay and conjecture.

    I had thought in the beginning that many people would be asking me details and wanting to know this or that, but ironically no one speaks of this. 

    “It is a hard subject to bring up,” my husband once said.

    “It is a hard subject to live through,” I told him.

    I blog about my thoughts and feelings, about what I feel and how different aspects have felt to me, how people connected acted or didn’t act and how too that felt to me.

    It is like the blog became the friend or tireless family member who would always sit and listen and bounce back ideas that rolled around in my head…we straightened things on the blog.  It is like a very intimate trusting friend.

    Now, lately my blog has been getting tons of strangers watching me talk and engage with this friend, they get to be voyeurs into my consciousness.  Witnesses to my thoughts, beliefs and how I see the world and others…

    Lately I feel that there is momentum brewing, sacred connections are joining and creating an even bigger circle encompassing and reaching further and creating a stir…

    It is like it was meant to be that my story get written, my truths be told, my life be this open book in order for it to dovetail with a family just beginning this process.

    Its purpose was always beyond me.

    For often times, the most difficult things to write seemed always to be the most important to put down…and ones I couldn't not write. 

    Those were the things that others needed to read; those are the crucial signposts along this journey, the game changers, the deal breakers, the key. 

    There always seemed to be a bigger purpose than just me that I was tugging and pulling on pieces of others stories, that by me figuring out apiece here and there, others would see and shift with me. 

    And at times even those who passed prior were cheering for me as I righted another wrong belief…we seemed to shift in knowingness. 

    It seemed some were leading and others were following me. 

    Follow me to their own truths, not my truth.

    To see that this journey I took is possible and that you will never walk alone, you will have angels of all kinds showing you the way forward.

    Angels of lies kept me from going backwards.

    Angels of truth wrote books that led me forward.

    It isn’t my intention to hurt anyone with my truths, but the old adage is there, “truth hurts”.

    It hurts the illusion.  It hurts the life built upon lies. If it hurts enough, it will propel you to change, to grow, to expand, to raise your consciousness.

    Truth arrives to change you, to be your spiritual friend. Truth is only the enemy of lies.

     

  • They speak in Lies.

    Don Miguel Ruiz said “There are two kinds of Angels, the angel of lies and the angel of truth.”

    Isn’t it odd to look at the two different kinds of angels?

    I know that my family does not like to see me as an Angel of Truth; they would love me much better as the Angel of Lies, and the way I used to be. 

    Oh was I a good angel of lies.  I was the best, I would tell you anything you wanted to hear, but never, not ever the truth…for I wouldn’t want to hurt you.

    I was a good angel of lies and my self suffered greatly. 

    For in order to be a wonderful angel of lies, you lose your self.  You turn away from your own feelings, and choose not to see others in their true colors.

    The Angel of Truth speaks with impeccable words, her actions match and she says what she has to say, no matter how they land upon your world.  

    I have lived both ways and as the Angel of Lies, I seen the world through glasses that lied to me.  I lied and it lied back.

    I pretended many things, overlooked much, and didn’t see life as it was in its naked rawness and beauty.

     While my journey has been horrific in many places, where the truth is exposed like a monster, I have also seen great beauty, love, peace and joy, that my lying angel refused to see.

    When I first began to see without my lying eyes, I saw things that brought me to my knees, okay flat in bed. But those same eyes bathed my body in nature’s beauty.

    I seen the sunrise and felt God looking upon me.  The night sky was filled with loving angels, the moon another loving presence.

    I watched the flow of the river and knew that same energy flowed through me.

    My truthful eyes saw God everywhere.

    So, while it was hard to get used to my truthful eyes, especially seeing that which prior I covered with lies, it was also the biggest blessing in my world.

    I love that I can see now as God sees.

    I love that there are angels of lies and angels of truth.

    I love that I have been able to be both in this lifetime.

    What I know is that many in my family are loving their roles as Angels of Lies, and they are being rewarded by staying close to their mother, their siblings, a family of lying Angels, all resuming life after a bit of truth blew in, they quickly got back to life as it was before.

    And it is very different when you begin to see truth; you are set aside from the liars. Our words and actions don’t match; our wings clash.

    I flew alone for a while and slowly I am finding Angels of Truth to hang with.  We are a rare bunch, seen as mental by some, cold and bitter by others…(hey, isn’t it said that truth is often times a bitter pill to swallow.)  We are often depicted as home wreckers, spoil sports, insane, crazy, mad…

    What I know to be true for me is that life as an Angel of Truth is magnificent, easy, peaceful, wise, perfect, and it walks hand and hand with God.

    I do recognize that when I speak as the Angel of Truth, I will get feedback that isn’t kind or supportive or loving from the Angels of Lies.  They are first to spread lies about me, that is their role.  They are only doing what Angels of Lies do…they speak in lies. 

    Don Miguel says there is only one conflict in the human experience; the conflict between truth and lies.

  • Who is saying the words.

    Somehow we all expect people to think, act and feel like us, when in fact we are all on our own separate journey.

    I personally chose not to engage in a conversation on my blog with people who are not willing to let me see their face.

    How many of you would want to discuss your lives with a ‘known’ stranger?  Not a stranger, but someone who knows you but wants to be treated like a stranger. 

    It seems to me that like the klu klux klan you can say things you would normally not say without your sheet.

    The anonymity of you, feels abusive to me, for I am at a disadvantage…you know things about me, that I would know about you, if your revealed yourself to me.

    It is like having ghostwriters.

    I am even finding it odd that not only does the opposition have no names, but so do the supporters.  I personally would love to know who understands and comprehends my journey.

    And the only conclusion I can come up with for hiding is fear.

    Otherwise why hide?  I know one person said that being anonymous prevents being rejected.

    And that is a concept to consider.  Rejection.  Having your own opinion may lead to rejection?  Rejection by whom?

    I even feel that perhaps I would reject some comments if I knew the source, for each time we hear a bit of gossip, we always first consider the source.

    Just because it sounds good, you have to see whose mouth it is coming from.  Words sound different depending upon who is saying them.

    Each of us has relationships and our past experiences with a person will color how the words land upon our ears.  We either know from the past how empty and hollow they are or how solid and firm and trusting.

    While many think it makes no difference that words are words and it matters not who speaks them, trust me it matters.

    Hearing “I love you” from someone who has neglected you and has lived a self absorbed life, falls flat to the floor after ricocheting around inside your heart, looking for warm fuzzy feelings.  And an “I love you” that comes from a mutually loving and trusting relationship snuggles easily inside.

    It matters to me, who is saying the words.

     

  • It is not how you say it, but that you say it.

    It seems that I am not the only one who is unsure of what to bring to the Authorities and what is considered ‘evidence’ or if you have the right knowledge or if it is not first hand but rather hearsay.

    What I want to impress upon all who read this blog, is that we each carry a parcel of evidence, and each part whether it be large or small, first hand or was told to us by victims or friends of victims, we are all carrying some evidence.

    Evidence we believe in.

    It doesn’t have to be bold and in detail, it can be that you too have heard about the character of this man or this woman.

    They are all, as we are all, presumed pure until told otherwise, until enough folks can say something to the contrary.

    Each of us has a ruler to gauge people and each of us have bumped into unsavory characters, and what most of us fail to do, me included is follow through and speak up, alert not only friends and family, but authorities.

    The authorities we have to presume are NOT knowing or hearing what we are, they are in the dark and it is up to us to show them were to shine their lights, to investigate and look into the well being of the people, we are fearful for.

    If someone had pressed the issue way back when my father was molesting his daughters and all of our friends, it wouldn’t have taken a great detective to canvas our neighborhood and collect evidence from the girls living there.

    We keep thinking we need to work this from the bottom up, to find a child willing to say something, but that is not our job.  We are not the investigators; we don’t have to have a complete file of evidence to alert the authorities. 

    Our job as citizens of the world is to alert the authorities of folks we have information on, whether it be first hand or second, but if you believe it…it needs to be handed over to authorities.

    As the saying goes. “All it takes for evil to continue is for good folks to do nothing.”

    It matters not if you are articulate, if what you have heard seems small, it all adds up to the complete story; a story told from a variety of angles.  It can be your personal experience or how you heard.

    They need Not just one viewpoint or one age, not just from folks within the church, but from those on the outside.  Not just the family and friends, but friends of family and friends.  We all have a thread that will make up the tapestry of who these people really are.

    They have created an elaborate shield that deflects their criminal behaviors. We each can tug and pull on one thread that will reveal to all just who lies beneath.

    Somehow our minds have us convinced that we will spot this action happening, that we have to see it with our own eyes, before we can pass on information. You need not have the whole picture, but one piece of the puzzle.

    Again, we are not the detectives; we can’t arrest them, or take them to the court of the land.  It is our job to help the detectives.  We know what they don’t know.

    And if you know enough to believe it and you don’t share it, you are adding and abetting the crime. 

    The only ones who are free from guilt in this are the ones who don’t know. 

    If you don’t know, you can’t know.

    But, once you know, you can’t not know.

    And if you know and are holding it safe within, you are doing each pedophile a great big favor.  Their sickness breathes on your silence.  

    I was even more devastated by mother, for she was okay knowing and doing nothing for me.  Nothing.  I was left alone to tend my wounds, to make right my upside down world.   For I have very little memories, but I do have one, me showing my mother my hurting bottom.  I was little, way little.  I didn’t know why I kept that one odd memory. But now I do.  I showed her and nothing was done. She didn’t leave him.  Forty years later, my niece says her Grandpa touched her.

    Silence and doing nothing kept him going from girl to girl. 

    If you believe it, believe that your silence will deliver to him/her another child to abuse. For my experience with my father shows the trail.

    I had evidence that his sickness began years ago.

    The detectives need past histories, not just what is going on today, they need to see a pattern emerging.  The more who come forth, the more chances his/her case will go to trial.  They need to hear that this ‘story’ is being told far and wide, it comes from people of all ages…

    The less that comes forth, the more chances his/her reign will be like my fathers…40 years and way too many little girls!

    What I know for sure is that I will not be the one sitting holding my evidence while a child’s innocence hangs in the balance.

    I will not be like my neighbors or other members of the church and withhold evidence.  What I heard will be passed on.  Not in the rumor mill, but to the ones who have the power to help the children.

    No matter how my evidence is taken by the law, I know that I have done my part.

     It is not how you say, but that you say it.