IMPERFECT Lady

Beyond Retirement

Life is interesting when you get into your retirement years. The time opens up and responsibilities fade away - and you now get to choose what you want to do.

 

While freedom sounds good - I feel that it is also complicated.

I believe I was able to hide behind responsibilities and that it is easier to just get in line and do a job.  It is much harder to not waste a life.

A part of me wants to make a difference in my life. I want to live a life I don't regret.

 

This first year I learned I am a homebody.

I can let time slip by being lazy.

 

I don't want to coast my last years of my life - I want to be intentional.

I want to have dreams and then fulfill them.

I don't even know though, what my dreams are.

 

I think dreaming was a luxury, I never entertained.

I first need to learn how to dream and seek out things that will add color and texture to my life.

 

I have been responsible for others for so so many years.  Responsibility overshadows dreams. 

I don't know if I was taught not to dream; but I wasn't taught to dream.

It seems fanciful and nonsensical.

 

Like life wasn't meant for dreams but built for responsibility.

 

Live like you are dying becomes more real after retirement. You enter into the stage of the end.  There isn't another big milestone after retirement - this is it - until we exit the stage.

 

I want live live.

To do things that have meaning.

and depth to me.

 

As I exited out of my dysfunctional family - I was very engaged in doing what was best to leave a legacy that was less toxic.  What I may have failed to do was to show how to live a fanciful life.

A life of dreams, adventures and joy and love.

 

How now to fancy up my life and add tone and texture and glitter.

It was important for me to live my truth, to find my authenticity - to drill down to the core of who I am and heal my brokenness.  And, it is equally important now to have fun. To live joyfully and dream of fun things.

 

I get a catch in my throat of how responsible I have been and how dreamless.

There is a feeling of guilt even contemplating fanciful just for me.  Or gifting me and myself nonsensical adventures.  

 

I don't yet know who I will be when I grow up.  

 

Perhaps we have dreams - dreams for our children and our grandchildren. We have dreams of being an example of a mom who does hard things. Just not fancy dreams.

 

Instead of retirement years, we should call these dream years.

Retirement means to stop working.  There should be another word for it - when we now have time to dream.

I looked up the word dream and the second part is this "indulge in daydreams or fantasies about something greatly desired. "she had dreamed of a trip to Italy."

 

Indulging in daydreams or fantasies isn't something I have done - especially just for me.

Just for me does seem indulgent.

 

I am going to become indulgent and dream.

Learning to dream beyond retirement.

 

Lookalike.

This is the Art Director posing with my quilts. I LOVE how she chose to interact with my art.  This will be one of my favorite photographs.

 

There was an artist reception for me and I decided that I would get others to interact with my art.

It was so much fun! 

When your face is being taken care of - you then use your body to express yourself. 

We all smiled big behind the quilt. Just a reflex when someone takes your picture, you put your best face forward.

The fun we had with these faces will encourage me to make more. 

Interacting with my art, brought a lighthearted fun energy to the space!

 

It was exciting for me to create them, and then fun to display them; but way more fun to pose with them.  And, what is even more exciting is that two women saw themselves in my art.  Two have found new homes with their lookalike.

 

 

(My quilts are being featured at the Gallery on 5th Street in Calumet until February 4th - where you can go and pose with a face.)

 

Exercise in Imagination

 

She hasn't always been sure of love and the sentiments of Valentines.  

It seemed to her it was a made up holiday; one where you forced love upon unloving things.

Hearts were repelling, as was the color pink.

Romantic seemed to be a game in play acting.

 

Until

She loved herself.

 

Now she sees what all the fuss was about.

How it is to celebrate the heart and how it can break and still feel love.

It seems the greatest part of her lives - from her heart.

 

Perhaps being comfortable in her own love of self - allowed her to feel the solidness of love.

 

Whereas before - prior to self love - it was all just a exercise in imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be Yourself

"Every year you make a resolution to change yourself. This year make a resolution to be yourself."  Author Unknown

 

My granddaughter and I were in the basement creating - there is a chair that is painted with a collage of words - "Be the Real you" is one of the phrases.  She asked, "Grandma what does that mean?"

I said, "When you feel sad - just be sad - don't pretend to be happy." She says, "Oh". 

 

(Here I am at my display of my art therapy quilts. Being Me.)

I know that sounds simplistic - and I also know it isn't always easy to just be your real self. However, life is so so much more simple when you can.

It may be my age - but the older I get the less patience I have pretending or hiding. 

 

Making a resolution to Be Yourself - will be life changing.

It reminds me of the year Martha Beck had - where she didn't lie.  Even the little ones - where you say you're okay, when you are not.

(This was posted on Instagram - capturing me on my way to a ladies camping trip.Totally winning at summer!)

 

At first it may seem uncomfortable, especially if you are used to hiding your real self - but over time, as you become more real - your life will be more comfortable for you to be in it.

As I look back over 2022 - looking through my photos, which are many - I had another wonderful year.  Family, Friends, Art and Adventures.  Life is good. 

I tried new new things and look forward to learning some more.

I had way too much fun -  Days of joy = a year of fun.

I am not one who is happy to see this year go - I will hold on to so many memories that I made.

And look forward to making more.  

Exploring new rivers.

And Bike paths.

And, hiking trails.

Sharing my Art and finding new friends.

As the new year approaches, I look forward to more of what I love.

May you have a year stuffed full of what makes you You.

 

Thank you to all who shared your time we me this past year and I look forward to more moments that bring me smiles as I scroll through my photos.

 

Your year will hold every choice you make - I hope you say yes to doing more of what the real you wants to do. 

May your New Year's resolution be - Be Yourself.  

 

 

Feeling Unworthy

Sending love to the deconstructed
church kids that have a weird
relationship with Christmas.
The melancholy or isolated
the ones doing their best to salvage
the good stuff. The ones reimagining
it for the kids, or tossing it altogether.
You're seen and you're doing great.

This was posted by a friend on Facebook.

 

It sorta captures my feelings about Christmas.

 

There is a melancholy for sure.

 

Music and songs from the long ago religion being sung.

Distance and lost faith.

While I feel free - there are now disturbing memories attached to the songs.

 

It isn't that I am seeking any religion to fill this gap.

But, during these holidays it leaves you feeling bereft.

 

Reminders of religion are everywhere and you are sorta made to feel less than, when you don't have a good relationship with faith. Like a true sinner.

 

When folks urge you to "keep Christ" in Christmas - I feel their overbearance.

Christmas lost its innocence - when I lost my faith in religion.

It now carries certain tones and expectations - unmet.

 

I wish there were christmas songs for the deconstructed church kids. For those of us who live outside of faith.

 

I thought of faith and hope and love this christmas.

And, I find those can be non-religious, and more - sentiments of love.

 

It would be good if you could salvage the good from the bad and make a mismatched christmas - that was more about love and less about christ.

 

I do have a problem with a god who has a special child.

Just as I would have trouble with a parent who had one.

 

My heart weeps for me as a child - in a religion that made her feel less than.

The unworthy child.  

 

O Holy Night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

My new belief is that each child is born worthy - complete and sin free.

It is only our minds that create them less.

 

Like I said, a complicated relationship now with songs of christmas.

If we were all taught we were perfect just as we are, then we wouldn't need a religion to 'save' us.

It seems that it creates the lack and then sells the fulfillment.

 

My reimagined Christmas is love.

Where each person is perfect. 

We don't need to add or take away anything.

Our worth isn't dependent upon someone else.

 

I love my kids just as they are. They don't have to do a thing to become more worthy - and the same for my little grandchildren. I would hate for them to even think for a moment they were not whole and complete just as they are.

 

I am grateful for love and the love I have for my family and friends - and total acceptance of who they are. There is nothing I could add to make them whole. 

 

At the end of the day I am relieved that it is over - tucked away for another year.

The ghosts of feeling unworthy.

 

 

 

Sees her Child

My annual correspondence arrives.

"Have a birthday doing what is important to you. 

I treasure the memories of your years with our family.

You were a great help and I was proud of all you accomplished.

I am your mother always and my love is forever.

Hugs 

Mom"

 

She pops in every year - a ghost from my past proclaiming her title and love.

 

Each year it is about how I affected her life, and never about how she impacted mine.  

 

I don’t even know where to begin to begin to process this.

 

There is always a little girl inside of me that is wanting to be seen.

 

She holds treasured memories - of the years that wounded me.

 

Reading her words without knowing the full story, you would think I left a loving mother behind.

 

This is what disturbs and unsettles me and confounds my mind. Our drastically different perceptions of our relationship.

 

Surviving my childhood created a woman who was brainwashed and lived in denial. A woman who was unable to see her own children and their needs.  A woman who sought approval and was a people pleaser.  One who went against the feelings in her body and chose to be a great help in an abusive family.

A woman who had no idea what love was, how to love - even herself.

 

The years she treasured - were the same amount of years I lived codependent.

Years I lived in a cult-like religion - without a voice or a choice of my own body, mind and soul - she treasures years that I see were void of me.

 

The past 18 years of our separation have been to undo the damage - of all those years. 

It cost me dearly to be in her family.

And, it cost me dearly to leave.

 

However my journey has not been for naught.

 

My children and grandchildren really will have years they will treasure in homes of love.

They have parents to feel proud of  - instead of shame.  

I love that their hearts can be bursting with love.

It is my hope of all hopes they won't ever have to live the shame of being raised with abuse.

 

My heart weeps that they will not have to leave their families - and live an awkward life of estrangement.

They won't have to feel the empty spot where parental love should live.  

 

They will instead enjoy years of sibling friendship and memories of real treasures. 

Not memories tainted by abuse and toxic dysfunction.

 

They will know love, real love, forever love by the actions of family who puts a child's welfare first. A treasured love from parents - that is so unfamiliar to me.

 

A mother's and father's love protects a child; always and forever.

 

She speaks of my help and accomplishments in the years I was with her family. She speaks nothing of my years after leaving.

 

She was proud of me then.

 

She actually loves a version of me that is no longer alive.

 

Who I am today - is not someone she knows, loves, or even acknowledges. 

 

She is a mother to the girl in her mind.

For that girl - she is her mother always and her love is forever.

 

But for this me, this girl.  The daughter who walked away - I am invisible to her.

She is incapable of seeing me and the reasons I walked away.

What matters most is - I see Me.

 

The older I get, the more I realize I am one of the lucky ones.

I was able to see.  

You cannot change what you don't acknowledge.

I am so happy I don't have her legacy - I have my own.

I am a mother who sees her child.

 

 

Home On the Untraveled Road

Today I sit with the date December 4th and how 18 years ago I began my journey of leaving my family and church.  

I discovered I was brainwashed and how my perception of reality was gravely affected by abuse and a cult-like religion. 

I marvel at what I survived, and more, who I have become.

 

Those early years are imprinted upon my soul.

The depth of pain my heart suffered - leaves me breathless.

 

But what catches my breath even more - is how I was able to walk forward with so much loss and gather into me, love peace and joy.

 

I don't believe I even dared to dream of the beauty that is my life now.

 

The pattern I was hoping I was creating - was a design that was unknown to me.

It grew choice by choice - with a shaky weak voice - that grew in volume.

Bold choice gathered bolder ones.

 

My life has such depth and breadth.

The early years were the hardest - to get the pattern started.

It was foreign and I was a stranger to myself.

Hoping for a better life for the generations who would follow me, I blindly set forth to create something from the ashes of my past.

 

First though, I had do it for me.

I had to know what love was, how peace felt and to experience joy.

I learned love by mothering the little girl inside of me.

When she was calm - it was my peace.

We learned about joy.

 

Often these came after making a tough boundary.

I guess I would drop the Often.  

Creating boundaries literally changed my life and set in place a new pattern.

 

I have been building this pattern now for 18 years and I love the tapestry it has weaved together.  The way the dark moments bought me brilliant clarity. The very things I thought would break me - delivered to me strength and empowerment.

 

My journey is colorful and heart wrenching beautiful. Today I celebrate the brilliant pattern of complex simplicity of being truthfully me.

I have lived two life patterns.

One I was following the generations who came before me.

In the second, I took the road untraveled.

 

On the untraveled road I broke trail, I made mistakes, wrong turns and false starts. I felt lost, alone, vulnerable, scared, and often hopeless.  Turning back was never the answer.

I knew who followed me.

I also felt empowered, strong, connected to myself and the universal energy of love.

 

I grew to trust my instincts and to honor my feelings.

On the new untraveled road I discovered me.

 

I am very grateful and content to be who I am. I am okay on the untraveled road now.

I am used to being different.

I am okay estranged.

My family wounds are faint upon my heart.

My heart now holds so many new and wonderful experiences, loves and friendships.

 

I am no longer a stranger in a strange land.

Rather I feel at home on the untraveled road.

 

Who Feel Like Home

I was challenged today about not trusting christians.  I promised to write it out.

 

This is my third draft and I think I figured a few things out.

 

First I will be using my abusive childhood to help illustrate for it shows the dramatic changes of heart.

 

My last conversation with my mother was her telling me, that we had two different perceptions of my father.

 

I recall hollering back to her, there is only one - he’s in an orange jumpsuit in the Houghton County Jail.  Meaning he no longer is a father - he changed my perception to an abuser.

 

 

Is it really possible to see the same thing so drastically different?

 

At first I thought those who are defending religion were like my mother - defending - her views against mine.  

 

But, then I realized they were more like me, or like I used to be.  

 

I was sold on family and religion. I believed in both - and looking back - I don’t know how I didn’t know.

 

I also thought that I was the loving one - that I brought love to my family.  But that isn’t true. I didn’t know love.  I only knew what love wasn’t.

 

Did my family and religion change?

Or did I.

 

What I believe to be more true is that I discovered love. I learned to love me.  I learned about boundaries and what my own truths were - I questioned my own values and perceptions - I watched my own actions how much I lived my own truths and spoke them out loud.

 

I believe that my definition of love changed. 

My family and my religion did not.

 

I changed my perceptions.

About love and about my self.

 

In my world, and in my heart of hearts - I feel I am one with reality.

 

 

As for not trusting christians.  I am still doubtful.

 

I would change it to being skeptical of most.

 

 

I am grateful for those who shared their words, their faith, and love of religion. You have added a gradation to my painting a wide sweep - there are tones. So not all the same.

 

I see myself in you.

 

I also see my old habits of black and white, with us or against us - sentiments showing.

 

A bad habit of mine.

 

For I do see the world more nuanced.

 

With a heap of skepticism on religions.

Perhaps our definitions of love are in various tones as well.  We all decide what love is.

 

 

I still feel the uncomfortable space that opens up when I am asked about God and Religion.

 

Equally when I asked about family.  Being estranged isn't the common path.

 

Many who have not left church or family will not be as sensitive to the phrases, questions of others.  How a simple statement - excludes you.

 

Do I trigger doubts in them or do they trigger doubts in Me?

 

I didn’t try to change my childhood family - instead I began changing my own legacy within my home.  By loving me - it is my hope that love will be passed down.  

 

I am redefining what love is - to me.

How love feels and how it engages with others.

I vowed not to let the legacy of abuse define me. What it actually was was a vow to find love - be love.  My greatest legacy to pass to my children is love.  

A love that is accepting, kind, peaceful, joyful, allowing - natural love without constraints of any sort.

 

I believe my childhood family believes in their definition of love and they find it there.

 

As for religion - I have zero desire to find a new religion.

It isn’t a place of love for me.

 

My church is where love is.

 

While the sentiments of my previous post is about religion and christians - What I believe the source of both is - is love.

Each person and the church they follow - has a definition of love - a sentiment that has standards and morals.  Your love matches.

The old adage, "Birds of the feather flock together" has relevance.  The flock is what they called parishioners in the past.  Who you fly with matters.  

My flock is small - misfits - who find themselves outside of what is called normal - the imperfect souls.

The tagline of this blog "I M Perfect and it is impossible not to be.

We fly with those who feel like home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A mask I wore

I think the value of a christian is more in the eye of the beholder.  It appears quite different from the outside looking in.

 

I feel I am less in the eyes of christians.

And more in my own.

 

Back when the label fit me - I wasn't that kind - nor was I loving.

I was judgmental and had a value system based on my limited beliefs.  I categorized people based on the rules I believed in.

 

Rarely did I see the person, or their life and pathway they walked.

Okay I didn't really see anyone other than those who believed like me.

I disregarded many or felt them to be less.

 

My worth was not in question - theirs was.

 

 

What is so interesting to me sitting on this side of Christianity - is how I see myself. Or more how I weigh myself and who I am.

 

When you are part of a group, you become lazy in yourself.  You are on the team and do what the team does.  

 

Especially in the strict religion I grew up in.

There was little free will.

 

Making a choice for myself was unheard of - all actions sifted down through the veil of our religion.  What to do and what not to do. Who to be with and who not to be with. Where to go and where not to go.  We followed.  

 

On the outside of religion is a vast land of possibilities and choices.

Each person who comes along is no longer seen through the veil of the church. 

But they are seen as I see myself.

 

It feels good to me to be without the burden of being a christian.  

I wonder what label carries the most weight with me?

Who do I identify with most - which part of me is mostly me.

 

Sitting here I don't feel any label over another.

Who I am seems to change from moment to moment and who I am with.

 

I feel this body - even more now as it ages.

I feel the sense of self inside.

I don't have a name for it.

I feel the accumulated past of me.

I don't know how I would now label me or others anymore.

 

What matters to me most perhaps is truth, authenticity, realness - just being yourself.

 

I value a person who wears no masks.

 

A person who is comfortable in their skin and in their lives.

 

After leaving the church, it amazed me how some people are lost behind their religion.  That there is not a separate being. Just as I once was lost - to me.

 

 

When I left, I had to find out who I was.

 

It was thrilling and terrifying.

 

The other side of christianity - feels like love to me.

Unconditional - accepting.

 

The god I learned about was not unconditional or accepting - let alone loving.

 

The christian god I learned about - didn't feel loving.

Hence, I don't feel like being a christian is a good thing.

 

I don't know what to say to someone who identifies as a christian.

I don't know what that means, truly to me or how they move in the world.

 

What I know to be true in my experience, is that a whole bunch of good christians knew about the abuse in my childhood home, blessed it away and moved on - repeatedly.

 

It is no wonder I don't trust christians.

 

Their religion told them what to do.

 

I too learned the ways of blindness, of forgiving and forgetting, of seeing the world through the dark drape of the cult.  Christianity didn't serve me well.

 

When I meet someone who claims they are a christian, I try to see if there is a separate being. A person behind that label.

 

Who are they?

How do they love?

How do they see others?

How do they see me?

 

I wonder what other label carries as much weight or worth as a Christian.

It has more value to other christians than those of us who are not.

 

I feel free, kind and more loving being a non-christian.

A concept that some are terrified of.

 

Interestingly, the religion didn't actually give me worth nor was I less for leaving.

 

I found that christianity wasn't who I was - the real me lay dormant - underneath the brainwashing.

 

To me christianity was a mask I wore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Played So Much.

The only Art Show I do, is less than a week away.  It is time now to look up from what I have created, price my art and start getting organized to show.

There is a big difference between doing art, showing art, and selling art.

 

I love getting lost in new ideas, in playing with colors and fabrics, and this year new mediums.  

 

It is like each new idea gives birth to another idea - a cascade of inspiration.

These faces were so much fun to play with, they captivated me for weeks!

These are inspired by Freddie Moran.  They are way too fun - I can't know if they will sell - but my joy has already happened.

If you try these, I am pretty sure you won't stop with one.

 

I then saw these scrappy trees - made from Fabric Twine.

Oh my gosh. I LOVED making the twine - great for at the end of the day - keeping my hands busy while I watched my latest binge on Netflix. 

Another addictive activity - I loved the twining and I love the tree making and I love the final trees.  They filled me with joy and happiness - while I worked on them.

 

That led to scrappy cards.  These were way too much fun. I had a packet of blank cards and envelopes from many years ago. I used what I had.  It was interesting to sew on paper - and so much easier than actual quilting. I will play more with this medium.

 

Those inspired Gift Tags. Smaller and I had to cut the paper etc. I kept them all trees. I didn't want to put too much time into these - this close to the show.

I would love to play more with fabric, inks and even paints on cards - no time now - but this has fueled a new avenue to explore.

I inherited a boat load of old jewelry and so I began to recycle it.  What fun this was. I found out I am pretty much a bohemian sorta girl.  I loved the imperfection of it all.  I got a few made for the show - but will continue to explore this after as well. 

 

And, those led to Fiber Beads.  Oh My Gosh who knew there was even such a thing. In researching if you will - what to do with old jewelry I happened upon the fiber bead.

Again lots left to explore. An endless road of possibilities.  This new art also filled me up with new energy, ideas and joy.  

 

In the midst of my own art journey my daughter came home - she wanted to do projects while here - one was to play with clay. What fun we had.

My girls did a much better job than I - handling the clay. But, I was still joyful in what I had made.  So these too will be part of my display at the show.

So, I have expanded my art - I have tried new things and had a ton of fun playing.  

 

Now the business side of the art is here. Pricing and anticipation of showing what you made.

A part of my soul is in each piece or for sure a my signature expression.

 

I am now tasked with pricing what I created.

Putting a value on it.  

There is a place where it honors the art, me and the customer.

 

To all the artists who are in the show - this last week as you sit surrounded by your art - you look outward now to how others will receive it.  You start looking more critical or at least I do.   This is the hardest part of being an artist, show yourself in public.

 

In this process the head takes over from the playful confident artist.

This is where the judgement comes from - and the self-conscious part.

If you give it free will, the head will convince you you are worthless - and so is your art.

I am thinking that doing art allows me to live away from my head and all its rubbish.

I also know that the energy I experienced while doing my art  - it is what is in my art - not the false words of my head.

 

So, I just wanted to put this out there, for I know I am not alone.

To all the artists that show and sell art - you are badass for taking what you created in private and put it on display for all to see.  

 

What I love is to see new art, to witness creativity in action.  I LOVE art, the artists and the shows.  

A friend reminded me, that by being in a show, it makes you more creative. I believe this to be true.  Without a show on the horizon - I don't believe I would have played so much.

 

See my play on display on November 12 from 10am until 4pm at the Houghton High School - Keweenaw Art Affair.