I M Perfect lady

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  • Fearfully love.

    “He who cares the least has the most power.” Is a quote that I heard, but have no idea who is the author, but I agree with it.

    Did you know that it is possible to care so much you are frozen to act, to speak, to do, that it will literally freeze you?

    Who would think that inside of ‘caring’ you would find fear?

    But here is the deal, if you care or love a person so much, what you are afraid of is losing something for you. It no longer becomes about them, it becomes about you.

    Who knew there was selfish caring, self absorbed caring?

    You and your feelings of the fear of losing overwhelm the situation and you freeze in fear and fear is all they feel.

    Instead of feeling caring they feel fear, isn’t that incredible?

    They think you FEAR them, not care for them.

    Sitting as a mother who has been gripped in fear of ‘losing’ her daughter, I was also cognizant of the fact that it was more about her.

    Pushing back fear and my loss, I have to keep the focus on how my daughter can regain her sense of self. Sure I slipped and fear fell out and hollering ensued, but awkwardly and in starts and stops, we are dealing together.

    I didn’t know how palatable this feeling of fear was or how it freezes you until I have witnessed so many who know and love my daughter do nothing.

    I couldn’t figure out what the deal was, why are they not actively coming in with words of encouragement, cheers and goodwill, why most are pressed back and motionless and silent, absent, vacant, not here.

    Again, “it isn’t the words of our enemies we remember, but the silence of our friends.”

    What I get now, is that the fear of losing, keeps them out of the game, and in doing that action alone, they lose.

    They lose what they love out of fear of losing what they love.

    It leaves me breathless!

    Love to me is being afraid and going in anyway.
    Being willing to lose what you don’t want to lose, being willing to let go for their sake.

    Isn’t being fearless, being in fear and acting anyway?

    What I know to the depth of my being is that a child who has been abused, feels fear coming at him, not caring. For the parent fears that they lost something precious to Them.

    The child feels fear and so they stop talking about what happened, for it puts ‘fear’ into the parent.

    They don’t want to make their parents afraid.

    I now see where love lost to fear, how it flips so unnaturally and how parents become lost in their own fears and not see the child fall away.

    They go away and go silent as well, for they don’t feel caring they feel fear. And since they are the ones who ‘changed’ due to abuse, they feel that their abuse is something others fear.

    Isn’t it incredible that the fear the parent has of losing a child is the key component to losing a child.

    Their fear is what sends the child away.

    And guess where this child feels most at home, among others who are not afraid of them, other abused people who people fear.

    It saddens me that the abused child gets pushed away because of fear and then owns and becomes that response as who they are. This becomes a new definition of self after abuse.

    And are left knowing, If I speak my truth, if I own my abuse, people will fear me, become silent and shun me.

    This is their experience when they first told.

    We either get to be not who we are with those who love us, or we can become ourselves with those who abused us.

    This new abused wound still fits with those who abuse, they do not fear us, they want us, they need us, they ‘care’ about us.

    Isn’t this a twisted circle?

    The ones who can ‘save’ us are frozen in fear and this leaves us going back to the ones who abuse us.

    I am amazed in knowing the success of abuse is fear in ‘good’ people and how the abusers must be clapping and singing halleluiah each time the abused child returns for more attention and acceptance.

    All we wanted was to feel accepted and loved.
    And it seemed that those who abused us did a better job.

    I recall telling my Aunt, my dad’s sister, that I always felt accepted by him, not judged like I did with my mother, that he loved me unconditionally.

    Imagine a pedophile loved me without conditions. He loved me innocent and he loved me abused, even if the abuse was by his hands.

    We can love or we can fear, but we can’t fearfully love.

  • With your loving support.

    My old definition of marriage was the joining of two people of like minds, and perhaps friendship held this too, but that you both viewed life from the same space and often responded to life with the same footsteps.

    Your histories and life pathways joined together for you shared similarities.

    I now find myself yoked to a man who hasn’t lived life as I have, hasn’t had to walk the same footsteps I have had to take, and we are dissimilar in the way we now respond to life as it happens.

    The yoke that held us close together didn’t matter, for we were the heading in the same direction, speaking in the same language and doing the same response.

    Now it feels odd, like our yoke is gone, and we are two separated individuals doing our own thing.

    Great freedom to be who you are, doing what you love, honoring your differences etc…all good and well, until your differences become a weak spot when combined.

    I have zero tolerance for abuse and he hasn’t been affected by it like I have so, he truly doesn’t grasp the affects, nor will he; his loving trusting belief in others is a weakness when you are dealing with abuse.

    Abuse and its manipulators can get away with what they do, for they bank on your trust and your kind nature and that you won’t hold them accountable for what they do.

    They rely on you seeing their behavior as an anomaly in their otherwise normal world.

    What we fail to appreciate is that the anomaly is the truth and all the ‘normal’ behavior is a shield to hide it.

    What I trust now, is what do they do when they are asked to stand with or against abuse, no matter who it is that is doing the abusing, be it a friend, a spouse, a father, mother, sister, brother, is who they are.

    I see who you are by who you support.

    The greatest weakness and hole that a perpetrator, or even an abusive man hurting a woman, uses is that we trust and believe that they are more good than bad.

    We want to believe that they just had a moment of confusion, a slip of control, a ‘moment of weakness’ but that all in all, they are good people.

    If we all stopped and cut our old opinions up the moment abuse entered the picture, we would save a lot of little children and even young adults who find themselves in a relationship that is detrimental to their well being.

    It is the stopping and not continuing that is the key.

    When people show you who they are, believe them. Damn it, Believe them.

    It seems so easy, so simple and yet time and time again, abuse slips by attached to the one you love.

    Attached to the one you trust.

    Attached to the old relationship, the kind man, the loving brother, abuse is attached to them, and you just refuse to see it.

    Oh, yeah…sometimes you see it but you will not toss out the old relationship for one little act of abuse.

    Or for one little moment of supporting abuse…we overlook the supporting for they too may be someone we love and trust.

    It is this blind trusting faith in a person who has abuse attached to them that keeps this cycle going, the legacy of abuse is mostly to blame on the ones who love and trust the ones with abuse attached to them.

    I never knew that abuse thrived more because of the love and trust than it did because of the driving desire of the perpetrator.

    In my one experience with abuse, if you don’t see the abuse attached to your loved one, and you continue to have relationships with him, then abuse gets attached to you.

    You are now the carrier, the supporter and the accomplice.

    The ‘love, trust and belief’ that my family had in my father has allowed him to be a free man.

    Each one of them who didn’t not see the abuse attached to him, now are carrying his legacy forward, in love, trust and faith in a man who gives abuse back.

    So, each time I am faced with a similar type event in my world, where abuse is attached. I see abuse and let the rest fall away.

    Again, the greatest supporter of abuse is love, trust and faith.

    Imagine?

    And yet the schools are teaching, good touch bad touch.
    Stop.

    They need to teach that we have the right to revoke friendship, love and trust, we can withdraw it at any time.

    So, my loving trusting and believing husband and I are on the opposite sides of this and my behavior seems harsh and so narrow minded. And it is.

    What I needed the most as a little girl was for someone to see the abuse, to act with the abuse and to see me and not see the man who clothed and fed 14 children, a lumberman, a hardworking, not asking for anything man.

    I needed one eye to see me, one ear to hear me, one hand to hold me, and to let him go. Instead all eyes, ears and hands reached out to him and they let me go.

    Me the abused child.

    Refusing to let his image of goodness die, instead they let me fade away, the one ‘insane’ voice against many.

    The majority wins; abuse will prevail…with your loving support.

    (What happens when in one home you have opposing voices?)

  • Cold without a Heart

    “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”
    ~Confucius

    Going forward with your whole heart is heart breaking, for you are wrenching your heart out from all the people you gave it to.

    What I failed to understand that it isn’t so much as finding new steps, new friends, new routines, new traditions or even getting used to the new me, but rather the yanking and pulling on my heart as I leave.

    For it is impossible to head out ‘half hearted’ and fully embrace life, with pieces of your heart dragging along getting snagged on old memories.

    Even the good old memories feel tainted with fresh paint of recent events, their red marks slashing over familiar “remember when…”

    I saw myself in past Christmases, the gifts made, the parties held, the efforts bestowed, the carols sung, the decorations hung, gathering everything I could to drape a happy Christmas upon so many. It began when I was very little.

    Many holiday memories hold parts where I used to be, for them and for me.

    The years of the oldest shopping for the youngest began when there was just two oldest…and a lot of youngest.

    The years spent making and creating a new ornament for each.

    The years of opening my house, giving of my time, until nothing was left to give.

    My heart emptied itself into them, little by little, child by child, I poured myself into their lives, and now they are all gone.

    It feels that I am ripping my heart to pull it back inside, gathering it from places far and wide, in events, tucked in memories, sewed into projects, knitted into scarves, pulled from lives…

    You can’t take your heart back without ruining the old memories, when you take your heart back; they fall in a discarded heap.

    Heartless.

    The memories turn cold without a heart.