I M Perfect lady

Tag: victim

  • A wooden Lady

    It came to me while writing today, that I used to be a rock.  A solid unmoving sturdy chunk of ‘being okay’ no matter what Rock; that you couldn’t shake my good nature.

     

    I withstood false promises and never showed my disappointment, I relied on the unreliable to come through and never once stood up and walked away.  I lived for years and years being the rudder in lives that seemed to be adrift and in need of my steadiness, getting splashed upon and caught in the undertow, yet remained standing with them.

     

    I somehow felt so needed and secure to be their rock.

     

    A rock. That was my role.

     

    Not partner, friend, mutual exchanging, but a rock.

    Something to stand upon, sit upon reliable always being there, for them…my needs, thoughts, feelings hidden under the solid hard cover.

     

    Looking back at my rock days, being a rock star perhaps in a sick and twisted way, I see that I had no sense to move out of the way, that I didn’t have legs to move me, like a rock I waited for some one to come along and pick me up and throw me out of the relationship I was in.

     

    It literally never occurred to me to move.

     

    Six and a half years later I am good at moving, I am fluid like a stream, I show my emotions and voice my feelings, I am no longer stuck in the hailstorm of others peoples lives, I respond in kind to what comes my way, I move, I bend and turn…free.

     

    I watch now other rock ladies and witness the sickening way they try to control things that are out of their control, like an alcoholics wife the promises never take root.

     

    It is weird that the rock changes color depending upon who they are with, like a huge living breathing mood ring…they fill in the weak spot, overlook the negative and bring in the balance of what is missing.  It never crosses their minds to leave, to turn and get out.

     

    What I felt was a solid rock of good nature, was actually a solid rock victim.

     

    The difference of how you feel inside filling up the low spots in a relationship, like you are helping, adding, growing, when if fact you are helping them remain less.

     

    At first glance it seems like a good deed, that you are being so accommodating, but in actuality you are enabling them to treat you poorly.

     

    It is like you are helping them slap your face again and again, while you sit as a rock.

     

    I was proud of how much I could withstand, see it as my strength, and all it showed was how little I thought of myself.

     

    I was a rock…I was an island….isn’t that a line in a song?

     

    What continues to shock me is how backwards I had everything…sitting as a rock never moving, being so loyal…like a wooden lady.

     

     Smug mug pics 2527

     

     

  • Strings to my Respond Ability.

    324 days have passed so far this year, and I have done yoga for 319 of them, and it has taken this long to wrestle free my backwards sense of Respond- Ability.

    I am almost 52 years old, and I am just now feeling to the depth of each cell that I have the ability to respond freely.

    That I have wiggle free and have sprouted a new sense of freedom that is as big as the Universe, like I have climbed out of a long long dark tunnel where I had little room to express my free will.

    The ability to be free to respond is the death of a victim and the birth of a survivor and even bigger than that, a second birth of me.

    A me that will stand tall and strong in my ability to respond, no matter what happens I can respond in kind.

    I didn’t know that feeling responsible for others and the feelings I was betraying them was a huge red flag waving inside of me, screaming…you are being victimized again.

    Each and every time I beat myself up inside for being irresponsible, it was wrong, I should have been cheering each and every time I had the ability to respond from the inside out, instead of pleasing the outside folks.

    This has to be my main vein and the toughest one to overcome, the ‘feelings’ of guilt when I did for me and not for them, when I responded to the voice inside, to the little girl’s spirit, to the essence of who I am.

    It was like there were dueling responses inside and one would affect the outside attention the other inside.

    I used to be whore for anyone outside of me, and I was bought cheap and sold my inside happiness for a smile and approval while inside the spirit of me shriveled up.

    What I also thought of today, is that I have been watching the wrong window, waiting for cheers from the people who are not cheering me on, while not paying adequate attention to the wonderful strong wise folks who are.

    Inside of me my responsibility thirst was seeking approval from the wrong side, and I failed to appreciate the loud cheers from those cheering on my little girl, by brave woman, my new self.
    The time has come to gather with like minds, join the spirits of those who know my journey and are walking with me and letting go of the sense of guilt that I wasn’t able to respond to their needs, for their needs are not mine to attend to.

    I love that I am allowed to just attend to me.
    I respond for just me.
    I act for just me.
    I move for just me.
    I dance for just me.
    I sing for me, talk, walk and be just for me.

    I am no longer a puppet on the string, a victim, where all my responses were for the one pulling on the string!

    No more strings to my respond ability!

  • Thy Will Be Done

    A thought came to me last night as I lay down to rest, “Being a Victim is easy….”

     

    Being a victim requires NOTHING from you, you get to just sit and wait for the world to change.

     

    Victims always have someone to blame you are never held accountable, you are blame free, a loving kind individual and the world is beating you up.

     

    Someone is always coming in and wrecking your world so you lose your kind demeanor.

     

    It is by far easier to point a finger at the cause of why you act the way you act, than it is to change your actions.

     

    “If someone can steal your peace, You are the Loser”…says, Bikram.

     

    I just never felt to the depth of my soul, that being a victim was the easy way out that it required less than actually making a change.

     

    It seems that it is more painful to be a victim, but now I am wondering if that is true?  Maybe it is actually harder to change, to walk out of the old patterns, and do something different.

     

    Make a new response; require more from your self and less from the world, to bring back to you the ownership of all your behaviors.

     

    Instead of people out there pushing your buttons, keep your fingers on your own buttons; turn the buttons inward, so when you explode, it was you who did it, not some outside source.

     

    Changing from victim to empower is wearing your emotional clothes inside out, so all the buttons are on the inside, where there is no one to blame but yourself, each and every time you speak or act out, you are the only one hurting yourself.

     

    Is it possible to be Masochistic to self?

     

    It is a cycle of self-abuse.

     

    How is it easier to remain in that role, than it is to stop the pain?

     

    It just doesn’t seem right that it is easier to be hurt over and over, to have your hopes and dreams dashed again and again?

     

    How is it so much easier to be so out of control of your self?

     

    And yet, most of the victims I know are working so hard to control the world and yet are unable to see that they are the ones out of control in their own world.

     

    There is a slight but profound difference between being in control in a world that’s in control, or being out of control by and out of control world.

     

    The mirror affect yet again.

     

    If you are a victim, the world is out to get you.

     

    When you are not, the world is out to give you all that you could ever dream and more.

     

    It is literally impossible to be kind in a mad world, the laws of the Universe works beautifully always, "Thy will be done".

     

  • I picked me.

    One of the side affects to being traumatized when you are little is that you can’t rely on anything, it seems that what we see can change at any time, so it leaves you standing on unsettled ground, nothing is for sure and not what you see.

     

    You wait for the change, on guard, but not ready, for you have no way to stop it or change it.  “Ready or not, here I come….”

     

    I awoke with the thought that I don’t trust people to remain the same; I am always waiting on a change, it is my sense of people that they swing hot and cold.

     

    Like a twisting knife, you never are sure what side they will present to you.

     

    The same sick nature was in me, I too never knew what was going to send me into a rage, what seemingly small item would be the last straw, what it took for me to lose control of me.

     

    The more I trust me, the more I gain control over me, the more I am able to calm me down, to respond in ways that match reality, the less the trauma affects have me.

     

    Not trusting others is only half of the affect, not trusting that you can exit that you have a choice to no longer be with a twisting person, leaves you stuck.

     

    So not only are you playing roulette, you can’t duck.

     

    When I learned I didn’t have to be with people who are so confused, so out of control, I was free.

     

    To be free to move and duck to play or not play opens up a whole new world.

     

    I love that changes will still come, but that I don’t have to entertain them.

     

    I select my response to all changes.  I decide how I will respond, it isn’t pre-programmed, and when change comes I get to decide what to do, it isn’t forced upon me.

     

    Being forced to weather changes.

     

    Forced to withstand what ever is assaulted upon you.

     

    Leaves you a prisoner in your own life.

     

    Where you and the jailer are one.

     

    I used to pray and hope and that others would change so I could feel better, yet I never prayed for me to change, not once did I see it was me!

     

    I was the one who allowed her self to be forced; it started as a child and became a way of life.

     

    A forceful way of life.

     

    Forced to be where you don't want to be.

     

    Until I was forced to choose them or me.

     

    Forced to pick one life.

     

    I picked me.

     

  • Victim to Victor.

    Maya Angelou spoke of the differences between whining and protesting, that it is okay to stand up and speak up and take actions against those that harm, but not to sit and whine about them.

     

    When you whine she said, ‘you attract more predators, for they hear your weakness.’

     

    And the phrase, ‘don’t whine about it, do something about it’ comes to mind.

     

    What I know for sure, my whining about my parents and their behavior would not have set me free. The only thing that would, was to protest by walking away.

     

    I am not whining about my past, I am protesting the behaviors and or treatments that were handed out. 

     

    Your actions are all it is needed to protest.

     

    Whining is speaking without actions.

    Only actions will move you from victim to victor.

     

  • Silence of our family.

    While pondering how my family didn’t like what they saw in me at the time of our discovery of my father being a pedophile, they didn’t seem to have the same adverse reaction to him.

     

    While I reacted viscerally to him and this new news, they seemed unaffected, meaning they treated him as before. 

     

    Yet they began to treat me differently.

     

    My father and I, it seems stood in the truth of who we were.  His role and then mine, and it seemed for some reason, they were not able to handle mine, but his.

     

    Isn’t it odd that they were able to bring him to counsel, to visit him in jail, to pay his defense fees, to give him a lighter sentence, to make sure his every need was taken care of in this new Light.

     

    But when it came to seeing me in a new light, no one even tried.  And here we are four and a half years later and ‘I can’t read your blog.’

     

    I am not asking them to escort me, to pay any money, to excuse my behavior, to take one step for me, but it is not something they want to do.  More repulsed by me!

     

    I just find this fascinating, how it reveals and sheds light on why abuse is able to prevail, for the families stand arm and arm with the perpetrator and let the victim walk alone.

     

    My mind has a hard time understanding how this works in their world.

     

    What I had felt at the time of his arrest, trial etc, was that way more attention is paid to the pedophile, and very little to the victim.  I know that I am not a victim of that trial, that I was too old, too many years have passed, I had nothing to contribute to his trial, but from my prospective the system is only catering to one side.

     

    Off balance in society and in families.

     

    I am not surprised that little children are silently suffering alone.  I am not surprised, for they too felt it viscerally to the depth of their beings; they were being left behind, because they were now changed.

     

    Two people are changed at the time the child speaks, two people are turned into something different, and in my experience, the child/victim is to blame, feels the responsibility in turning a so called normal man into a monster.

     

    In fact it is up to the child to ‘prove it’ they have to be strong enough to stand against a team of people that are daring you to expose the unthinkable.

     

    Even at my big age and size, it is daunting to sit in a place where they don’t want to hear your experience, and the hurt they project that we caused.

     

    Again, two people changed that day, and I was the worse of the two, I was one who they didn’t want to hear. 

     

    I know they will say, that I did not try, but I recall the phone calls where it seems I was going against the power of the Universe to convince them our father was a monster.

     

    Impossible task, and what I was really stating, I was not going to be the usual sister, I wasn’t going to be the usual daughter, the usual victim, and it was easier to assume his new change than mine.

     

    This will ride along with me today as I once again toss mail.

     

    I am harder to deal with than a pedophile, wow.

     

    We both turned and he was easier to be with……incredible!

     

    “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”   

               Martin Luther King.